Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“It just amazes me that a person can make something like that. Really. I mean, it’s one thing to see a picture of a sculpture. It’s another thing to stand next to one, see it from every angle, and realize that someone actually made it by hand. Are all your sculptures so dark?”
“Most.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Look, if you’re here for Lydia or Iris—”
“I’m here to see you.”
Her pulse skittered. “Why?”
He’d just needed to be around her, check on her, and breathe her in. Also . . . “I was curious about you.” About where she lived and what kind of space she’d need for a studio, because Trick would have to make sure she had one on pack territory. He intended to make sure she had everything she needed to be happy there.
“Well, I’m pretty busy.”
“You can take a break, right? All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”
She sighed at the dumb phrase. “Who is this Jack? And why should I care if he’s dull?”
Trick’s mouth quirked. “It’s just a turn of phrase.”
“Yeah, but I don’t understand the point in using proverbs when you have the option of saying something that makes perfect sense.”
He supposed she had a point, though he didn’t see why they annoyed her so much. “Okay, I’ll rephrase. Working too much isn’t good for you—you need to make time for fun.” Glimpsing a door ajar behind her, he asked, “What’s through there?”
“It’s my display room. I keep all my finished pieces in there.”
“Can I see?”
Since he was already heading right for it, Frankie grumbled, “I guess so.”
Trick pushed the door open and stalked inside. What could only be described as nightmarish sculptures filled the space. Among them was a gargoyle, a large face scrunched up in agony, a nun wearing an evil smile, and a creepy-looking kid on a chair. “Wow.”
While he studied her sculptures, Frankie studied him. Trick Hardy was something of a mystery to her. Why? Because she could sense that he did his best to downplay his dominance around her. It was a futile effort. He had a powerful presence. The air in the studio seemed charged with the compelling intensity that practically bounced off his skin like tiny little sparks. He could play the easygoing charmer all he wanted, but she wasn’t buying it. Not even with his slow, lazy smiles and the sexy swaggering gait.
Trick turned to her, surprised to find her watching him. “Jesus, Frankie, how did you make this stuff? Every piece is both eerie and captivating at the same time.” Her cheeks reddened at the compliment. Trick skimmed a knuckle over one of them, felt the heat of her blush. “Not used to people admiring your work, are you?” It made him wonder . . . “Do your grandparents approve of what you do?”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
“Neither of them are arty people, from what I remember. I just wondered if they’d find it hard to understand that you have a passion.” As her mouth clamped shut, Trick nodded and trailed the tip of his finger over the row of piercings on her ear. “Okay, I get it, you don’t want to bad-mouth them to someone you barely know. Loyalty is good.” He wanted some of that loyalty for himself.
Frankie stepped back, a little uncomfortable with how casually he touched her. No, a little uncomfortable that it didn’t bother her wolf the way it should. The animal generally didn’t like having her personal space invaded, but she didn’t seem to mind sharing it with Trick. “You’re pretty tactile, even for a shifter.”
“You’ll get used to it. Your wolf will let you know if I’m taking it too far. Has she ever surfaced?”
“Sure.”
“How old were you when it first happened?”
“Thirteen.” And she’d been scared out of her mind, because she hadn’t known what to do.
Trick’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me you didn’t do it alone.” Her eyes slid away, and he growled. “No one should be alone during their first shift. I’m sorry you were.” And he felt like shit about it. He was her mate; he should have been there. If she hadn’t gone to live with the Newmans, he would have been there. Those humans had a lot to fucking answer for. “So you’re not used to being around shifters?”
“Nope.”
“How does your wolf feel around me? Threatened? Edgy?”
“She likes you.”
He smiled, since he’d half expected her to claim that her wolf didn’t want him around. “I like that you’re honest, Frankie. Far too many people aren’t.” Closing the distance between them in one fluid stride, Trick traced her cheekbones with his thumbs, all the while drinking in every curve, every line, every dent, every freckle on her face. “I’d like to sketch you.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
Trick laughed. His wolf was delighted with her. She was unexpected in the best ways. “I’m serious. I like sketching. It relaxes me. The same way I’m thinking that sculpting relaxes you.”