Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
"You're having second thoughts about marrying a human because everyone back home is going to think you're insane?" I set the pastry down in front of him on a small plate and then sit down across the table, licking my fingers clean of sugar.
"Something like that, yes." Zhur nudges the plate with his fingers but makes no move to eat. "A person like me is supposed to uphold high standards of conduct."
I hold a finger in the air. "Ah, but you're not supposed to tell me who you are, remember?"
"I remember."
Smiling, I continue. "So blame the situation on me." When he frowns in my direction, I continue. "You were forced to work with me to ensure my silence. To humor me and throw the officials off your trail, you had no choice but to don a disguise and fake a marriage. Sure, some people might give you crap for it, but you just enlist some publicists and tell them to spin it as a survival story. That you did what you had to do in order to keep going. They can angle it where you seem scrappy and determined instead of desperate. It's all in the spin."
Zhur stares at me in surprise. After a long moment, a smile curves his face. "You are rather clever, aren't you?"
I preen at his compliment. Is it the first one he's given me? Possibly. But that makes it all the more meaningful. "I like to think that I have a few good brain cells rattling around, yes. Just...don't stress about the future, all right? Keep taking it one day at a time."
He nods slowly and then picks up the bun and takes a big mouthful out of it.
I watch him as he eats quietly, wondering what sort of thing he's running from. A society marriage, maybe? Political rivals? Something tells me that he's not on the run for murder or anything like that. He's too...well, prissy. He wouldn't get his hands dirty. He'd make it someone else's problem. Maybe financial woes? Illegal trading of some kind? But if he was doing something against the law, where's his money?
Then again, that might be the problem. Maybe he spent all his clients' money and they're looking for it—or to take a piece of it out of his hide. Now that I could absolutely believe.
Zhur finishes his bun and eats a second one and then looks around for a finger bowl to wash his hands in. I roll my eyes at his demand but get it anyhow. "You're too fussy."
"And you are an absolute savage to not have one on your table," he agrees, his expression a bit more cheerful. "Imagine, the solution to dirty fingers is to smear it on a piece of perfectly clean linen. Only a human would think such an idea is a good one."
I roll my eyes at him, but when he puts it like that, it does sound kind of gross. "Quit fussing at me. You want to check out this vial they sent home with us?"
Zhur shrugs. "I have never done recreational stimulants. I have never even put a carcinogel to my lips. The closest I have come is a few rather potent aged wines."
"Why am I not surprised?" I smirk at his answer. "You seem like the type to get drunk on wine. And I'm with you. I haven't done drugs either, but I figure at this point, who cares, right? Being a straitlaced law abider got me sent here, so maybe I can break a few rules now and then."
I pull the stopper out of the vial and smell the contents. It...doesn't smell like anything. That's disappointing. It doesn't even smell herby. I shake the ingredients, trying to get a scent going, but the green, crumbly mixture inside does nothing for me.
"Do you know if we're supposed to smoke this or snort this?" I ask Zhur.
He grunts, an acknowledgment I take to mean that he doesn't know, either.
"Huh." I tip the vial and spill a bit of the contents onto my fingers and rub it between them, then sniff it again. Still nothing. "Maybe we should hold off until I can ask how it's used..."
I trail off as I look at Zhur.
His pupils have grown huge, his eyes black as coal in his buff-orange face.
Well, it's working on someone at least.
CHAPTER
FORTY-TWO
MAEVE
"You okay?" I ask as Zhur slowly rises to his feet from his end of the table.
He takes a deep, shuddering breath, but his gaze remains locked on me. "No."
Shoot. What did the shopkeeper give me? I head for the sink. "Let me get you a glass of water—"
My words cut off as Zhur rushes across the room, and in the next moment, his big body is framing mine, pressing me up against the counter. His arms wrap around me as I make a startled squeak, and then his mouth is on my neck. I squeeze my eyes shut in terror. Oh god, he's going to rip my throat out—