Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“It’s no use, shining one,” the thing above said as I lay there. He spoke my language perfectly when he wanted to. “You can’t change. Don’t fight it. I’ll get a good price for you. One of these days my clan will have to thank that jackass Torin. We’ve made more money off the slave trade in the last ten years than we could have imagined. Behave now, little dog, and soon you’ll have a new master to take care of you.”
The Nightmare Man picked me up and carried me. My weight slowed him not at all. He found a cave, but the entrance shimmered, and when he walked through it, I found myself in another world. The new world was warm, without a hint of snow. It took a day to get to the village and my cage.
I shake my head and pull myself back into the present. I worried at first that I was in Hel, the place where wolves go to die, but this male makes me doubt it. He must be the master the Nightmare Man spoke of. I watch him, trying not to let my appreciation show. I saw several males over the days I spent in the cage. None of them showed me his glorious fangs and claws. All the men seemed appalled with me. They looked at me with disdain, as the pack did. This First isn’t afraid of me. He fought me. He fought for me.
“Come,” he says, his voice taking on that deep cadence that pulls at me.
I am shocked. That word makes sense. “You want me to come?”
“That’s just cool,” the second man with midnight hair says. There seems to be two of him.
After I calmed and accepted the First’s dominance, the second man with black hair was allowed inside the tent along with a pretty red-haired woman. The two men won’t let their woman get as close to me as she obviously wants. The woman complained but backed down when the one with the sword growled.
“I am not cold at all,” I reply. Their words suddenly make sense. They seem to be learning my language. Or perhaps there is some magic at play, after all.
The second dark-haired man smiles broadly. He seems to do all the smiling for the two. “I wasn’t talking about the temperature, dear. I’ve spent too much time with my wife. It’s a human saying. It means I think the technology is very advanced. I’d like to take one apart and figure out how it runs.”
“Small words in the beginning, Ci,” the First says. He frowns. I like the fine line it puts in between his eyebrows. “And she won’t understand slang at all.”
“What is slang?” I ask, settling on the word I don’t recognize.
The First turns to me. His eyes seem kind as he walks over and kneels down. He takes my hand in his. His skin is cool to the touch, but I like the feel of it against my own. “It means this is going to be hard, sweetheart. Trust me. There are going to be words you don’t get.”
I don’t “get” half of what he says. I do understand the request. He asked me to trust him. I breathe in. He’s so close. I open my senses and let him fill me. Oh, I like his smell. I lean over and let my nose run against his neck. He smells of many interesting things. Beneath all of it is a scent that is uniquely his own. I sigh as I catch the scent of his arousal. He is interested in me. I feel my own body respond, softening and preparing. The First wants me.
“Hey!” the black-haired man—the irritable one—calls out.
“Back off, Beck.” The First holds still and lets me smell him. He honors me by allowing me this close. And in front of his kin. “She isn’t doing anything to hurt me.”
I revel in him for a moment. This is the closest I have ever been allowed to another being. Even when Sven forced me, he simply shoved me on my knees and thrust in from behind while some of his kin held me down. He didn’t allowed me the intimacy of rubbing skin to skin and covering myself in his scent. I like this First’s warmth and the faint sound of his heartbeat. I breathe him in, memorizing his smell. Like a memory, a smell is something to think upon long after the action is done.
After a moment, I lean back. The First stares down at me, a curious look on his handsome face. He is so beautiful, with vibrant green eyes and sensual lips. His face is not covered in hair. His skin is perfect, and I long to trace the utterly masculine line of his jaw.
“I hope that wasn’t some formal greeting, sweetheart,” the First says with a chuckle that does strange things to my insides. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to return it right now. You stink something horrible, love.”