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)
Slapping on a smile, she approached a female dressed in a checkered Mad Hatter–type suit, minus a shirt, putting her ginormous bazongas on display. A top hat was pinned to her hair. An oversized bowtie complimented a jacket with floor-length tails. Judging by her pent-up-aggression vibe, she was a wolf-shifter. And bored. She held a clipboard, checking names against a lengthy guest list.
Behind her, the party raged. Groups of immortal females clustered together, drinking beer from cans and chatting, clearly pretending not to be as bored as the shifter. Everyone represented a topless character from Alice in Wonderland. No males were present. But then, Neeka had uncovered just enough information about the realm to know Hera, its owner, hadn’t visited in centuries. Now Rathbone’s somehow-eternally-sixteen-year-old son ruled the land, and he’d instituted a No Other Dudes law. And also topless Mondays. And Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays.
Neeka stopped in front of Clipboard, who didn’t bother glancing up as she intoned, “Name?”
“Blaze Champagne,” Neeka stated, letting instinct guide her.
Clipboard looked up, exasperation evident. “Well, it’s about time. You’re only five minutes early, which means you’re fifteen minutes late. The other strippers are already in their cages.”
Cages? Neeka cast her gaze over the garden. Lush green bushes acted as walls, with flowering trees providing shade for tables peppered with energy drinks, more beer, and all the fixings for chili dogs and hot wings. “Um... I see no cages.”
“Go past the bushes, through the maze, and to the right,” Clipboard said. “And hurry! Trust me, you don’t want His Hotness getting upset.”
His Hotness? “Ten-four.” She strutted forward, immediately refocusing on Rathbone. “Your son sounds like a real tool, by the way.”
—He might not be my child.—Rathbone’s rough and tumble voice whispered through her head, and she yelped, drawing the gaze of several attendees, all of whom eyed her with varying degrees of pity.
“You can communicate telepathically in this form?” Dang it, dang it, dang it! That was next-level intimacy and it unleashed a more intense avalanche of tingles. This one left a trail of fire in its wake. She sailed through an open arch between bushes. “Why didn’t you reply sooner?”
—You can hear me?—Shock saturated his words.
Guess he hadn’t known. Which meant she was a first. An only.
Pride infiltrated her cells. Unless this was proof they were maybe, could be, possibly inevitable? Brought together by destiny?
Ribs drawing tight again...
—Hera paid a sorceress to allow my nanny and the military commander to communicate telepathically with me. Until you, I was never able to reciprocate.—His tone held notes of frustration and amusement.
“Am I your nanny or military commander in this scenario? No, don’t answer. We both know it’s both. I promise I won’t use my position for personal gain. Other than a few times. A couple dozen at most.” Skipping now, she maneuvered through the maze. Considering an endless parade of signs read “This way” and “No, that way,” she navigated with ease. “Since I’m your overlord, as you just admitted, I insist we take this moment to discuss your thoughts and feelings. What if Maximus is, in fact, your child?”
—I’ll deal. But I expect my nanny to help me.—
“Not your military commander? You’re too macho to admit you secretly long to obey my every order?”
—Yes, thank you for noticing.—
The dry response extracted an unexpected laugh from her, and ushered in the most delightful waves of affection. She tried to make light of it, saying, “Rathbone made a funny.” Adorable male.
A weary sigh drifted through her head. —I don’t know what to think or feel. So much has happened. Astra surprised me in my own home. I dreamed a memory that’s made me question what I thought I knew, and learned I might have allowed a cold, calculating queen to raise a child I should have protected. Now I’m traversing the childhood home I despise with a female I crave far too much.—
Neeka drew to a halt. What memory had he dreamed? What did he question? This was his childhood home? An amalgamation of fictional fantasy lands? Skipping over his “female I crave” confession was a herculean endeavor. For peace of mind, she did it and said, “I’d love to hear more about your childhood.”
—Hera wished me to become her personal guard, devoted to her protection. Loyal without reservation. But the trainers she entrusted with my care were too afraid of her to correct my mistakes, and servants catered to my every desire, unwilling to tell me no. Anytime she deigned to visit, I acted out, and she explained how thoroughly I disappointed her.—
His matter-of-fact delivery broke Neeka’s heart, but his trust in her helped weld it back together. He felt close enough to her—safe enough—to share painful glimpses of his past. The events that had shaped him into the steadfast male he was today.