Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 107652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“I don’t r-really care if it’s d-dangerous or not. I-It still m-made you bleed.”
“Stop chattering. It’s incredibly annoying.”
“I-I’m not doing it o-on p-purpose.” I tried to see his back again. “Let me—”
“Leave it alone. That’s the last warning I’ll give you before I get angry.” He didn’t shiver like me but radiated a false fever that felt utterly inhuman.
My heart hammered. “But—”
“I said leave it.” He was close enough that the temperature difference felt as if we were completely different species: him made of volcanic fire and me cocooned in a snowdrift.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, lingering with all those dark, conflicted thoughts. The raw tension between us was almost unbearable—his proximity, his half-nakedness, his pain and hate and fury.
For one suspended moment, I swore he might kiss me in a fit of rage.
But then his hands spasmed around my hips. His touch scalded through my sodden clothes and with effortless ease, he hoisted me up to sit on the edge again.
I shivered harder, the sound of water dripping off me the only noise as thick awareness roped us together. He didn’t step away—staying between my spread thighs, his hands still gripping me. His arms flexed as he steadied me, veins standing out like dark lines beneath his skin.
The longer he stared at me, the more I crumbled. I didn’t trust what I’d do the longer we shared this intimate intensity.
“Why...” I swallowed hard, my breath catching. “W-Why are you t-torturing yourself in this f-freezing pool?”
His eyes shuttered—everything about him shut down as if he’d reached his limit.
I slouched, accepting he wouldn’t answer me—
“It’s the only thing...apart from you...that helps,” he said, rough and low. “The cold dulls whatever they use to subdue me. It keeps me from burning alive.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
His jaw clenched, his eyes once again diving into mine with a hint of surprise. “You’re not the one who did it.”
“They keep you in pain constantly.” The ache in my chest swelled until it hurt to breathe. My eyes fell to his mouth. The sharp perfection of it and the streak of blood ending at his chin.
I reached to wipe the redness away, but he caught my wrist, his fingers snapping painfully tight.
“What are you doing?” he growled.
Good question.
What was I doing?
Why was I drawn to him again and again?
Why did my annoying crush get stronger and stronger the more I was around him?
Why did the urge to help him chase away my shivers and fill me with injustice for his pain, his suffering, his misery—overwhelming me with the need to help?
Twisting my wrist in his grip, I tried to get free.
He didn’t let me go. “What exactly are you up to?”
I didn’t know if it was rioting emotions inside me, my lack of ability withstanding them, or the way he held me, but truth escaped against my control.
“I-I want to do s-something for you.”
His eyes flared. “Do something for me?”
“Something that w-will make you h-happy.”
“Happy?” His entire hand jerked around my arm. “Why?”
I winced at my audacity but stayed as honest as I could. What was the worst that could happen? He wouldn’t kill me. I didn’t know why I was so certain of that but...he won’t.
“Because you’re not happy,” I whispered. “And I d-don’t think you have b-been for a v-very long time.”
He froze. The flicker of wary shock on his terribly handsome face made my stupid heart skip a thousand beats. He stared at me, jaw tight, eyes unreadable, the fire beneath his skin and the cold air merging into one impossible connection.
Neither of us spoke.
Neither of us were experienced enough to know what the hell was going on or how to stop it.
At least panic did it for me.
Wrenching my arm out of his hold, I scrambled to my feet. Water splashed off my dressing gown as I wrapped my arms around my middle and squeezed, my bones jangling with cold. “I’ll...I’ll g-get changed and we’ll d-do something together? Okay?”
I didn’t wait for him to reply.
Bolting to the changing rooms, I prayed I wouldn’t slip and pretended I didn’t hear him mutter to Whisper: “That girl is ten times worse than the drugs in my veins. What the hell am I supposed to do with her?”
The panther didn’t reply.
Chapter Forty-Two
“WHY THE HELL DID YOU DRAG me here?” Lucien muttered as we came to a stop outside a door in a part of the palace I doubted he’d explored in years—judging by the amount of dust I’d found when I’d cleaned.
I had a sneaky suspicion that I knew his home better than he did now—thanks to the past five weeks of snooping, hoovering, dusting, and mopping. He didn’t venture out of his sprawling quarters—quarantining himself as if forsaking the world, just like it had forsaken him.
“You’ll see.” Pushing open the door, I stepped aside for him to enter. Whisper streaked from nowhere, slipping inside without an invitation.