Born of Blood and Ash (Flesh and Fire #4) Read Online Jennifer L. Armentrout

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Tags Authors: Series: Flesh and Fire Series by Jennifer L. Armentrout
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Total pages in book: 362
Estimated words: 347293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1736(@200wpm)___ 1389(@250wpm)___ 1158(@300wpm)
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Ash smoothed his hand up my back. “No, liessa.”

I swallowed, barely tasting him anymore. “I took a lot of blood from you when I awakened. And this wasn’t a little bit either.”

“My body will quickly make up for it,” he told me.

I stared at him, uncertain. I knew that as long as he wasn’t injured, consumed food, and rested, he would replenish what was lost. But I also knew that his body was still playing catch-up—and I knew that because I’d seen it before when Veses fed on him. I just hadn’t known the cause then.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes, liessa.”

I didn’t move as a different kind of need filled me and urged me to prove that I was being silly. That I wasn’t afraid. That my time in Dalos wouldn’t have any lasting effects on me.

That I was right.

Nothing had really happened to me.

My mouth felt dry. “Ash?”

“Mmm?” His eyes were closed.

My heart thundered as I touched his chin. “I want to do for you what you did for me.”

“I know, liessa.” He tilted his head and kissed the tip of the finger that had been on his chin. “But if I drink from you, I’m going to fuck you again.”

Desire fisted deep inside me. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

A deep rumble radiated from him as he hooked his arm around me and pulled me back down to his chest. “If that happens, we’ll end up breaking this couch, and I’d hate to have to explain how that happened.”

Well, that would be awkward.

“We could always move to our bedchamber, where there is a very nice large bed,” I suggested, unwilling to give in quite yet. “And maybe you could, you know, control yourself.”

“Like you just did?”

“Touché,” I murmured. “Sorry about that.”

He chuckled. “Don’t apologize, liessa. I love that greedy pussy of yours.”

I choked on a laugh.

One side of his lips curled. “Plus, if I feed, we’ll never make it to the Thyia Plains.”

I nodded. “You’re right.

“Always.”

I laughed, but I didn’t feel it as my stomach churned with the guilt that flared to life the moment I felt relief at Ash’s refusal to feed.

We planned to leave for the Thyia Plains after sharing a quick meal.

But that didn’t happen.

Attes arrived in the Shadowlands instead.

Concern grew as we neared the main hall, and it didn’t help the churning in my stomach since I’d finished eating. There was no way Attes had finished with the Primals already. As Ash and I saw Rhain and Saion, he squeezed my hand. Just that small gesture calmed some of the worry.

“He’s in the throne room,” Rhain announced.

Ash sighed as we turned left. “What is he doing in there?”

“I have no idea,” Saion said. “But he’s not alone. Thierran is with him.”

Ash stopped abruptly, his head cutting toward the gods. “What the fuck?”

Saion laughed. “That was pretty much my response.”

“Who is Thierran?” I asked.

A faint grin appeared on Ash’s lips. “A walking nightmare, in both the literal and physical senses. He’s an oneirou.”

I wasn’t expecting that to be the answer. At all.

“Thierran has a lot of sway over the remaining oneirou, even though they tend to stay out of Court politics,” Ash quickly explained. “Which is normally a good thing. But it also begs the question of why he is here with Attes.”

“Maybe Attes came upon him when he went to Lotho,” I suggested. “I assume he can be trusted?”

“Trusted in the general sense? Absolutely fucking not,” Ash said as we began walking again. “But when it comes to Kolis? Thierran’s never been a loyalist.”

I wasn’t exactly reassured by that, but I didn’t think Attes would bring the god here if he believed he was dangerous.

We walked through the open double doors between two pillars and entered the throne room.

Thousands of candles jutted from the smooth, black walls of the vast, circular chamber, and hundreds more hovered above the main floor, scattered throughout despite the sunlight pouring in from the open ceiling.

My gaze immediately landed on the oneirou. Hair as dark as the shadowstone around us lay against his chin, shielding his face. He stood to the left of the center aisle, between the rows of benches, and was almost as tall as Ash. What held my attention was the sword strapped to his back, the daggers sheathed to his upper arms, and the hilt of another blade I saw tucked into the shaft of his boot.

Good gods, this god carried a small arsenal on him—one Bele would be impressed by.

He looked up then, turning his head slightly toward us, and my back straightened. The man appeared to be in his twenties—there wasn’t a single crease or line in his skin, which was a color somewhere between sun-kissed and olive. His features looked like they’d been carved from some fine stone by a master sculptor. Every feature was perfectly symmetrical—the angular cheekbones and jaw, the blade-straight nose, and the dark, arched brows matching his sculpted lips and framing the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. They tapered upward at the outer corners and tipped down toward the bridge of his nose at the inner. The irises were a shade of bluish-purple so deep and dark it bordered on amethyst, and he looked like he’d come very close to losing both eyes.


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