Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I move the other items to the top of the dresser and dig around my bag for my phone. A warning pops up, then another.
Low battery.
No service.
Fantastic.
I search my bag for my charger and find the cord. After a quick search, I can’t find a single outlet that will work with my cord in this museum.
Should I go next door and ask Declan for a charger? Does it matter, if I can’t get service out here? I walk over to the window and the bars in the top right corner of my phone flicker from one to two.
Quickly, I tap out a message to Wren.
With Declan Sterling. Researching town history. Service is crappy. Call you in the morning.
There. Enough to let her know who I’m with but not enough to make her worry and call the FBI to search for me.
Unless I don’t make it through the night.
Stop it.
…sending…
Finally, a check mark indicating the message was sent blinks. Then my phone powers down.
Damn. Hopefully she gets it and doesn’t freak out when I don’t respond to any follow-up texts she might send.
I pull the heavy covers back and crawl onto the high mattress. The bed’s huge, chilly, and smells faintly musty but the sheets are soft. I roll from one side to the other, trying to get comfortable, desperate to clear my mind. With my phone dead, I can’t even listen to one of my bedtime meditations to ease myself into sleep.
Declan’s right next door.
Does he sleep naked? The question throbs through me, more insistent than the brand on my wrist.
Disgusted with myself, I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on my breathing. Eventually, I start to drift into the slow, easy waves leading to sleep.
A creak splinters the silence and my eyes snap open.
Is that the old house settling? Or is something breaking in?
I clutch the sheets tighter. If it’s something bad, surely Declan heard it too. Everything’s fine. Probably.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Declan
The Sterling house groans around me. Normally I don’t notice all the little noises, but with Emery here, I need to stay vigilant. Every sound could be a threat.
Knowing she’s just on the other side of the wall won’t allow my body to settle. My ink crawls restlessly under my skin, itching like it remembers the way she touched it. The way she was marked.
I press my palm over my chest, willing the lines there to still. They don’t. They haven’t since she came prying into my life.
I focus on the quiet. The wind sliding through the trees outside my windows. Nothing else. No hoofbeats. No iron tang in the air. No pressure in my skull that tells me the Rider’s near.
For now, she’s safe, and I’m able to drift into sleep.
A floorboard creaks outside my door. More than the usual creaking of this old house. I cock my head, listening for it again. There.
I toss the covers aside and hurry to the door. I left it ajar earlier to make sure I’d be able to hear Emery if she needed me. I open it wider and step into the hallway.
A shadowy figure. Slight green glow moving through the shadow. Coming closer.
“Emery?”
“Ack!” Thud. Bang.
I flick the hall light on.
“Ow,” Emery moans, rubbing her hip. The movement draws my attention to the shirt she’s wearing. My T-shirt. With my shop’s logo flowing softly over her generous breasts, fabric tight where her nipples press against it. The sight squeezes my balls, heat flashing down my spine before I can stop it. I slide my hungry gaze over her body. The hem stops above her knees, showing off her bare legs and feet.
Desire thrums through me, low and insistent. “Aren’t you cold?” I snap.
“What?” She screws her face into a scowl. “No. I thought I heard something. And this,” she holds up her wrist, the green light glowing and swirling around her wrist. “Doesn’t have an off switch.” She glowers at the table. “Then I banged my hip into this lovely thing, that I assume is some fancy antique?”
She raises her eyebrows but continues rubbing her hip.
I should ask if she’s okay, but my tongue’s glued to the roof of my mouth. I can’t tear my gaze away from the hem of my shirt where it keeps moving up and down, revealing then shielding her smooth thighs.
Two snaps break me out of my trance. Emery’s fingers move in a zigzag in front of her and she snaps again. “Uh, hello? Did you go back to sleep while you’re standing there?”
“No.” My gaze shifts to her wrist. To the green mark. “Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore.” She frowns and twists her arm back and forth. “It’s just bright.”
Because we’re so close.
It would burn if the Rider were near.
What if we were even closer?
I curl my fingers around the edge of the table she bumped into, hard enough the wood bites into my palm. My gaze drags down her legs again. “Why aren’t you wearing the pants I brought you?”