Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“Oh, I wasn’t— I didn’t—” Oh God. I’m dizzy, and I take a quick gulp of my drink just to steady myself. “You know that woman we saw camping? The one with the Jacobins?”
“What about her?” Micah immediately sharpens.
“She was there.” It’s easier to focus on hard facts and not how I suddenly feel very vulnerable in the gold-tinted darkness of Micah’s den in this pretty little dress with him so close. It’s not a bad feeling. I kinda like the strange thrill of it, but it still makes me nervous so I just ramble to distract myself. “The tall one in the old-fashioned dress? The mean-looking one? When Xavier walked me out, I saw her hanging around the front foyer behind the door. She stared at me the entire time. It was really creepy. Like she was mad at me.”
“More like marking you,” Micah growls. “That’s something, all right. I’ve never seen Xavier Arrendell and the Jacobins together with my own eyes. You just did. She’s probably relying on the fact that you won’t recognize her, but hell…”
“I’m a witness to the link.” I swallow. “But I don’t recognize her, besides seeing her that night. I don’t even know her.”
“Eustace,” Micah answers grimly. “Eustace Jacobin, Ephraim Jacobin’s wife. Mother of the late Culver Jacobin and a mess of other kids. I’ve long suspected she’s the real brains behind their entire operation.”
“Huh?” I stare. “I didn’t even know Ephraim had a wife. I’ve seen the Jacobins lurking around my whole life and I’ve never seen her.”
“For good reason,” he replies. His expression is a cold mask, dark with loathing. “You can’t arrest her if you barely know she exists. She hides in the shadows, pulling strings with clever fingers. A black widow.”
He leans close to me until our knees bump with Rolf trapped between us, so intensely near that I squeak.
Embarrassing.
But I’m caught up in those stormy eyes again and the harsh, almost desperate way he stares at me, his lips pulling back from his teeth.
“Never go out alone after dark again,” he bites off. “I’ll take you home tonight. Be careful. Always stay in plain sight of others. If you see the Jacobins in town, ignore them. Don’t acknowledge them, don’t glance in their direction. If Eustace Jacobin thinks you’re a threat, or even just a loose end…”
He doesn’t have to finish that thought.
The horrid danger hangs in the air between us, heavy and frightening, making my heart hammer.
Or maybe it’s not the threat of the Jacobins hanging over my head.
It’s more that Micah is so close I can feel his breath, just barely teasing my lips. And I can’t escape how he is when he’s this fired up.
His skin flushes in beautiful hints of red against white skin, making his red mouth stand out more starkly, so unintentionally sensuous it’s obscene.
The man is mystery and moonlight, an arctic fox, and the firelight licks gold along his cheekbones and swims in his eyes.
When his gaze drops to my mouth, I shiver.
And I realize he’s staring at me as intently as I’m staring at him.
There’s something there.
Something I’ve never experienced in my life, and it pulls me closer.
This dangerous thing, so dark and hot it makes the air vibrate as he sways closer, too.
His teeth gleam white, just past his parted lips—hungry, so hungry, just like the stars in his eyes.
This is pure want.
The kind I know too well.
Wanting the anticipation building between us.
Wanting the way my lips tingle as he tilts his head, bending over me, so close, deliciously oppressive as I rise to meet him and—
Rolf shoves his big furry head between us, panting cheerfully and nosing for attention.
I pull back with a muffled sound.
Micah slumps back too, giving me an almost guilty look before he turns his head away, looking through the tall windows to the pond at night.
He adjusts his glasses and strokes a soothing hand between Rolf’s ears, taking another sip of his whiskey, but he says nothing.
Holy hell.
I don’t even know what to do with this much tension.
So I just look down into my drink. I’m tempted to throw the rest down to ease this feeling inside me, but when I get too drunk, I get even more jittery. So I just take a delicate sip, filling the silent, strained seconds.
Maybe I should let myself out.
I said what I came to say, after all.
He knows he can hit up Joseph Peters, and he knows I saw Eustace Jacobin at the manor. Just like he knows I probably caught Xavier when he was high as a kite.
This is a business meeting. Nothing more.
So I really should go and stop flipping daydreaming.
“Listen to me, Talia. If Xavier Arrendell ever lays a hand on you, you tell me,” Micah says, still staring out the window. “I will break every last one of that man’s fingers into pebbles.”