Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Rathbone hung his head, an invisible dagger twisting mercilessly in his chest. “What can I do to help you?” he croaked.
“You can leave,” she snapped. “I’m not sure how many other ways I can convey the message. Exit. Vanish. Flash onto a pole.”
The barb cut ever-deeper. “Forgive me, and I’ll double your payday.” He would give her anything she desired.
“I don’t want double. Now, take your balls and go play with someone else. I won’t buy you new ones if I’m forced to break the tiny pair you’ve got.”
He blinked. The one who’d gone toe to toe with the Astra Planeta to score a payday now despised Rathbone so much, she turned down double?
“I’ll fetch a healer,” he rushed out, an old, familiar desperation taking hold. He didn’t wait for her response but flashed to Hades’s palace.
The sovereign wasn’t in the throne room. Or the war room. Or the barracks. Or his bedroom.
A splash sounded from the bathroom.
Rathbone flashed inside. Hades lounged in the bathtub with a nymph on each arm. The trio hadn’t gotten to the main event, but they were gearing up for it. A huge ornate mirror hung directly over them, reflecting even the smallest undulation. The mirror. Hades’s greatest treasure. A cursed goddess resided behind the glass.
Hades, being Hades, perceived Rathbone’s presence and opened one eye, pausing to say, “You stink, and I’m busy.”
The females began to gag. “Are those...intestines dangling from your ear?”
They ran from the bath, water sloshing over the rim.
“The oracle requires a healer experienced with zombider bites,” he told the male. “Your very best.”
Hades arched a brow at him. “That’s a tall order. One you’ll have to pay for. The usual fee will do.”
“Yes, yes. A Spy On the Enemy coupon, to be redeemed at an interval of your choosing.” He pushed the words past clenched teeth. Rathbone might be family, but that didn’t mean he received a discount.
“I’ll have the good doc sent to your front door in—”
“Now,” he interjected.
Another sigh. “Now,” Hades agreed. “You’ve grown into an annoying adult. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Often. Hurry.” Already impatient, Rathbone flashed to his palace’s entryway. He counted the seconds. When no one appeared at the fifteen second mark, he geared up to return to Hades. With knives. Just before he acted, the healer arrived. A fae with a medical bag in hand and a note pinned to his tunic. That note read, You owe me. H.
Not bothering with a discussion, Rathbone flashed the male to Neeka. She hadn’t left the bed, and her condition had worsened. A white cottony substance rimmed her mouth. Her eyes were fully bloodshot.
“I told you to leave,” she shrieked, thrashing atop the mattress. “Why are you still here? I want you out! The other guy can stay, though.” She released a hollow laugh. “You brought drugs, right?”
“What happened?” The fae set the bag at the foot of the bed and dug inside.
“Zombider bite,” Rathbone grated.
The healer reared back, the bag falling to the floor, the contents spilling out. “You must chain her, or we must leave. If she bites us—”
“She won’t,” Neeka snapped. “Unlike foolish kings, I prefer quality to quantity.”
Rathbone took the insult as his due and nodded, echoing, “She won’t. Now, make her feel better.”
Terror radiated from the paling healer. “She’ll either expunge the toxin or she won’t. We’ll know the answer by nightfall. But we shouldn’t be here. We should leave.”
“Make her. Feel better. Now.” Rathbone rolled his shoulders, adapting a battlefield stance. “Her bite isn’t the ending you should fear.”
“Y-yes. Better.” Agitated and jumpy, the fae inched toward the bed once more. He gathered his scattered medications, then selected a syringe and a vial of gray liquid. Took several tries to make the needle sink past the vial’s cap, but he succeeded.
His trembling intensified the closer he got to Neeka. He stuck her in the arm as quickly as possible, leaping back when she hissed at him.
“Nothing’s happening,” she burst out, slurring the words. “I don’t...you can’t... don’t you dare look at me, Rath...” Her lids slid shut, her head lulling to the side. Her body went lax.
A small bud of relief flowered. Asleep, she felt no pain.
Rathbone drew in a heavy breath. She’d wanted him to leave. Fine. But he would return.
“You will wait in the room next door,” he told the fae. “If she wakes, you will administer another dose. And just so you know, I’ll sense each time you enter. Harm her in the slightest way—I suggest you do not harm her. Your treatment is tied to hers.” He deposited the male in the other room, then flashed to his private bathroom for a shower.
As the scorching water poured over him, washing away evidence of the battle, his thoughts remained on Neeka. He was responsible for her condition. The fact that he’d let her get hurt after he’d pinned her to the blanket and ravaged her mouth for a too-short stolen moment...