Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I turn around, unsure what to do with him. I never intended any of this, but when that motherfucker shoved him around, all I could see was red. “I don’t intend to hurt you. This is temporary. Probably.” Ugh. Shouldn’t have added that last bit, I know that by the expression on his face.
His eyes remain red, and the skin under them is puffy, with a purplish tint, but now that I have the chance to see his face from up close, the shade of his irises draws me in, as if he brought a piece of the sky into my underground home.
“I-uh… that’s okay. I’m just scared. I did not want to hurt you,” he mumbles and, after a moment’s hesitation, reaches to the wound on my arm.
I shrug. “Don’t worry about it,” I say even though it just barely stopped bleeding a while ago. “I brought you this. I was going to just leave it on the nightstand, but then you woke up, and…” I drift off. This is why I don’t date. Holding my ground with enemies, sure. Keeping my brothers in check, doable. Whatever I’m doing right now? Pure fucking agony.
I reach into my pocket and present him with the large smooth amethyst I got from our resident witch, Brigid. She told me this crystal is calming and promotes restful sleep, and going by the contents of my guest’s home, he likes that kind of thing.
His lips are plump and pink as he bites them, taking in my gift. “That’s… so thoughtful. Are you also into crystals?” he asks and gently takes the stone from my hand.
“Not really, but a friend of mine is.”
And all I can think about is that he knows. He knows I like him. He knows I licked cum off his fingers. I need to leave before I embarrass myself further, but he won’t have it and pulls me toward the armchair. “I practically live in the store that sells crystals in my town. Marina is so kind and always keeps the best stuff for me, even the things that sell out fast. Do you know your birthstone?”
I can’t believe he’s talking to me instead of trying to stab me again, and I’m not sure what to do with that. “No.”
He only lets go once the backs of my knees hit the seat. “Oh, so when’s your birthday?” he asks and walks off. I stiffen, worried he might bolt for the door again, but instead he grabs a clean towel and a bottle of water, and returns to my side.
“June twenty-fifth.” I’m not sure what to make of him dabbing the towel on my wound. It’s… nice. I feel so exposed though. Am I even doing the conversation right? I usually don’t give a shit, but I want him to like me. Even if the circumstances are not playing in my favor.
He grins and cleans my wound with more water, as if he really cares whether I live or die. “That’s a good month. Let’s see, there’s pearl, moonstone, and alexandrite. The fun thing about that last one is that it changes color depending on the light. I suppose that’s a bit like you,” he adds, meeting my gaze.
I swallow, because I don’t remember ever having a boy this handsome touch me, and I hope he steps back so I can discreetly place a cushion in my lap before my excitement becomes too obvious.
The last thing I want is for him to bear the discomfort of my attraction to him. This cave is my home, not a cell, but he doesn’t know that. To him it’s probably a serial killer’s lair.
“I… change color?” I frown at him and attempt to bite my nail but my captive gently pulls my hand down.
His lips crook. “You’re getting a bit pink right now. But you’re a Cancer, so it makes sense you’re very passionate about things.”
I feel my face burning. He’s taking so much time washing the dried blood off my forearm I could be fooled that he wants to touch me. “Oh no, I’ve never been called ‘passionate’. ‘Emotionally stunted’? Sure.” I snort like it’s a joke, but is it? Maybe it’s one of those ‘it’s funny because it’s true’ kind of jokes. “What’s your star sign?” I ask to change the topic. I don’t know much about those, but if he cares, so do I.
He puts away the towel and strokes my arm. “I’m a Pisces, and you were actually spot on with the amethyst, since that’s my birthstone. What are the odds, right?”
It feels as if something is blooming inside me. Moths flutter their wings in my stomach, and while I’m lightheaded, it’s not from blood loss. I smile. “One in twelve?”
I make a mental note to ask Brigid if Pisces and Cancer would make a good match. She’d know about those things.