Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
She couldn’t help but say it out loud. “I thought that she was different.”
As she looked down at her master, she realized . . . he had thought so, too.
“Aye,” he agreed.
And it hurt all the worse to know that he had been wrong.
PART VI
THE WINTER SOLSTICE
Chapter Fifty-One
The last thing she wanted was to trek fifty blocks north in the cold. But without the Dreadlords to drive her or cash on hand to take a cab, she had no other choice. She braved the 14th Street subway entrance, paying off a particularly irritable troll, to take the 1 uptown. She pickpocketed her way through the platform to rejuvenate her magic, and by the time she exited onto the Upper West Side, she was starting to feel better. The magic burn was dissipating.
Her previous disdain for the neighborhood was completely gone. Even a few weeks ago, she would have sneered at the clean, well-lit streets, and now, this felt . . . right.
She breathed a sigh of relief as Graves’s brownstone came into view. There was so much more inside those four walls than she had ever dreamed. Though it felt like coming home, her steps were tentative as she approached the front door and its ostentatious dragon knocker, knowing the firedrake that lived within. She smiled at the thought. But the look vanished when she lifted it and knocked.
She could easily just walk across the threshold. His magic couldn’t keep her out. But she felt more a guest now than the last time she had knocked on this door. She didn’t know if she was welcome.
The moment lingered. She lifted the knocker again and banged on the door. A moment passed, and then the door heaved slowly inward.
Graves appeared before her. He was dressed in a rumpled dress shirt and slacks. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone at the top, and the sleeves were rolled up nearly to his elbows, revealing his holly tattoos. A half-empty bottle hung from his hand. His hair fell over his forehead, the streetlight catching on the midnight-blue strands. His eyes, those dark storm clouds, took her in in one long, lingering look. He looked like he’d had a worse few days than she had, and that was saying something.
“Kierse?” he asked in what could only be described as shock.
She had never heard the tone from him before. Never heard him even use her name on his tongue. She had always been Miss McKenna or Wren. It was unnerving.
He looked at her for a moment like she was a complex math equation. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
“I don’t believe you have ever asked permission.” He recovered his bravado long enough to sweep his arm out and allow her inside. He dropped the bottle of bourbon on a console table as he toed the door closed behind her.
She rubbed her hands together and then blew on them. “Why is it so cold in here?”
“I’m alone.”
They stood together on the cold threshold. No words crossed between them, just silence. Graves was rattled by her appearance. As if the string that ran between them was tenuous and at any point could snap.
She needed to get the words out, but somehow seeing him like this made it all the worse. They both had their backs to the wall. Neither of them had fully put their faith in the other. Not even as everything began to change over the weeks together. And now she had to find a place within herself to let go. Something she never did with anyone.
Before she could begin, he asked stiffly, “Are you here for a reason?”
“I came back to . . . apologize,” she forced out.
He arched an eyebrow. “Apologize for what, exactly?”
“For what happened with Nate.” She stared down at her hands. “Can we sit to discuss this, please? I have a lot to tell you.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed once before he nodded. They stepped into the sitting room, and Kierse couldn’t bite back the smile. The little green book sat on the side table. Her blankets were folded neatly next to her favorite seat. No sign of Anne, but she came when she pleased.
Graves went immediately to the dead fire. It made the room feel so much colder and less welcoming. He got it going again in silence as she settled on the couch. Soon the warmth from the fire radiated throughout the room, and the feeling slowly returned to her hands.
She waited until Graves settled into the chair across from her before continuing.
“I don’t know how else to explain it,” she said, dropping her gaze and trying to find the courage to open up to him. “My love for exits isn’t manufactured. My father abandoned me young, and I lived on the streets. It was a terrible situation,” she said with a shudder. “I don’t even like to think about those years.”