Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
I leap to my feet, knocking my chair back.
Everyone stops talking, glancing at me.
“Adriel?”
I ignore Damrion and stride toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Reaper calls.
I don’t answer him, either—I can’t. I stumble out the door, gasping for breath as it slams behind me. The icy mountain air blasts through me. I suck it into my lungs in greedy gulps, allowing it to ground me and shore up the walls in my mind.
I’m not in Jotunheim. I’m not in chains.
I’m in Eitr. I’m free.
But Abigail isn’t.
I feel Damrion behind me long before I hear him. I always feel him when he’s nearby—he’s an electric current running down my spine.
“We’re going to find her,” he says when I spin to face him.
But I’m not in the mood for platitudes and promises. Not right now.
I’m not in the mood to talk to him, either. For the first time in 2500 years, he let me into his soul today. Without reservation or hesitation, he let me in, sharing his grief and pain with me.
"Back off, Damrion," I warn him. I don’t want to fight with him tonight, not after what we’ve lost today. But the memories of Jotunheim are too close and my emotions are too raw. There’s only one way this will end between us—the same way it always ends. In a fight.
“You’re in pain. Let me help you. Please,” he pleads. The same plea reflects in his golden eyes.
"Help me? You can't help me," I snap. The weight of our shared history presses down on me, suffocating me. There’s so fucking much of it, and most of it hurts. We’re fire and ice, destroying each other over and over again.
“What do you want from me, Adriel?” he sighs, his expression pained. "I'm trying here.”
“I don’t recall asking for anything other than for you to back off.”
“Do you want me to walk away from you and the way I feel? Is that what you want?" he asks, frustration burning in his eyes.
I stare at him for a long moment, anger and bitterness churning inside me. After all these years, he finally lets me into his soul, and he’s already trying to run.
“Do whatever the hell you want, Damrion. You will anyway.” I throw the words at him like daggers before turning to walk away, refusing to have this fight with him now. The past is too heavy, the present too uncertain, and our future too dim.
He grabs my arm, refusing to let me walk away. “Nei, don’t walk away. Talk to me, Adriel.”
My temper flares as emotion bubbles over. I slam him back against the wall, my hand around his throat. "Don't fucking touch me," I snarl, my face inches from his. "You lost that right when you left me to die.”
"For the last time, I didn't know you were alive!" he growls, his golden eyes locked on my face. “I never would have left you there had I known.”
"You should have known!" I shout. "If you'd let yourself love me, you would have known. You've been in my soul for 2500 years. I’ve felt you every fucking day. I knew that you were alive. I knew when you were hurt. I know everything because I feel you. But you never let me into yours until today. You were always too goddamn afraid." I hate the way my voice cracks as if I’m some Fae recruit facing his first battle.
“Adriel,” he says.
But I don’t allow him to finish. It’s my turn to talk. "I waited 2500 years for you to let me in. And it takes Abigail being taken from us before you finally do. And even now, you’re still so fucking ready to walk away. You'd rather break everything than let yourself love either one of us. She deserves better, Damrion. We both do. So you can go to hell." I push him away, desperate to escape the memories and emotions tearing at me.
But before I make it more than a step, he grabs me again, shoving me up against the wall this time.
“Damn you,” I growl, trying to push him off me, but he’s implacable, a wall of fury and determination.
His mouth comes down on mine in a searing kiss.
He consumes me, his lips hard and demanding against mine. His fingers tangle in my hair, his touch lighting up the sparks of Magn flowing through my veins.
My hands fist in his hair, tugging him closer as I rise up to meet his savage possession with my own. I nip at his bottom lip, and he groans into my mouth, the sound shooting straight to my already throbbing cock.
His hands are everywhere—sliding under my shirt, gripping my hips to grind his erection against mine, pulling me into him. I touch him, too, desperate to feel him in a way I haven’t in millennia. Desperate to feel anything but the emotions threatening to drag me under.