Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Blythe dropped the organ and stumbled, collapsing. Blood poured from her wounds. Her eyes drifted closed.
“She outlasted the unibeasts, making round two officially over,” Roux bellowed. He flashed and gathered her near lifeless body. At last the screams in his head quieted. “Stay with me, Lyla.”
She panted shallow breaths. Alive! But she didn’t open her eyes.
He straightened, clutching her against his chest. Where to take her? Staying in the palace, being surrounded by all those prying eyes and ears right now held no appeal. Nor did camping near Wraith Island.
An idea rose. He flashed into the circle of Oath Stones and scanned the area. Abandoned. Excellent. Silvery moonlight glinted off the rocks. Far too soon, the sun would rise, starting another day. Another battle.
While cold winds had plagued the royal grounds for days, warmth enveloped the private haven. After gently stretching out on the soft grass and arranging Blythe against his chest, facing away from him, he sliced his wrist and held the wound over her mouth.
Crimson dripped past her parted teeth. She needed the blood of her consort to heal. Would she tolerate Roux’s or not? What if he was wrong and he didn’t actually belong to her?
They would find out.
“Take everything you need, Lyla. Heal.”
At first, she didn’t act as if she’d heard him. Or react at all. But as more and more of his blood dripped down her throat, her eyelids popped open and narrowed. She grabbed his arm with her working hand, bit into his flesh, and gulped him down.
“That’s my precious,” he cooed. Careful to hold his arm steady for her, he stretched out at her side. “Not just blood. Soul, too, she-beast.”
A soft light glowed around her lips. Usually, when phantoms fed on his soul, cold flowed to his limbs and an itch he couldn’t shake tormented him inside and out. Here, now, satisfaction inundated him. Color was returning to her cheeks. Gashes were closing, and her missing hand was reforming.
She continued to drink with greedy abandon. Even as a new tide of weakness washed in, his satisfaction remained high.
He petted her hair, telling her, “No one fought harder or better than my Lyla.”
When the suction ceased, he almost protested. Curiosity kept him quiet. Maybe a dash of uncertainty, too. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her belly. Do not vomit me up, Lyla. Please.
Tension roiled inside him as one minute bled into a second. Then a third. Another five minutes passed. She merely turned and settled more comfortably against him. With her head crooked on his shoulder, she molded her body to his.
He exhaled a sigh of relief. She’d kept him down. He was her consort. Her male. Pride infiltrated every inch of him, and he locked his arms around her once again. Possessiveness sparked and spread. Mine. My female. Always. Never giving her up.
Would she ever fully accept his claim, though?
Sighing, he stared up at the night sky. Perhaps not. The jewel remained embedded in her throat. A sight he suddenly resented. It represented the biggest obstacle between them.
“Thank you,” she muttered with an almost drunk tone. “In case you were wondering, Astra tastes good. You are pure power.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “You will want more of me?”
“Babe, I’ll demand it.”
A full-blown smile bloomed. Since she hadn’t brought up the consort thing, he wouldn’t, either. Yet. “I look forward to this,” he replied.
“Good.” She got more comfortable. “So, um, where’d you go earlier? During the battle, I mean. Not that I was obsessing over it or anything.”
He kissed her temple. “I went back to the wraiths. As long as I feed them once a day, Penelope isn’t allowed to drain you.”
“That’s...wow.” Her voice wobbled. “That’s some kind of a romantic gesture, Astra.”
For the first time in his life, he felt the urge to tease another living being. “Oh? Does my harphantom approve of romance now?”
“To her absolute shock, she does indeed,” was the prim reply. A yawn cracked her jaw. “Round three begins in an hour.”
“Forty-nine minutes, twenty-two seconds, actually.”
She pouted. “So, not nearly enough time to provide my own romantic gesture.”
“There’s time to describe it,” he intoned. “Begin with the removal of your clothing and end with your shouts of pleasure.”
A soft laugh left her, the warmth of her breath fanning his shoulder. “Talking about getting naked and drowning in sexual bliss will only drive us both to the brink of insanity. So, yes, you’ve convinced me to do it.” She lifted enough to prop up her elbow and rest her cheek on her palm—and give him the sexiest grin he’d ever had the privilege to see, setting his blood on fire. “Why don’t we pretend I’ve already verbally stripped us both so I can tell you everywhere I plan to put my mouth...”
“Yes! Start there and spare no detail.”