Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
He held his tongue, supplying only a grunt.
With twenty-two minutes remaining on the six-hour date clock, a large body of choppy water came into view. Even as a thin white vapor blew over the surface, he caught sight of a bobbing dark head at last. Blythe! She didn’t appear to be drowning but swimming strong and fast toward a large island with a heavily wooded mountain rising from the center, its top shrouded with a much thicker mist.
“Stay here.” he ordered. But, when he tried to flash, he failed. Roux swallowed a curse. His oath. He couldn’t leave the siren behind.
“Sorry, lover,” she said, understanding, “but abandoning me for any amount of time isn’t how this date of ours works. If you want to flash, flash, but you gotta take me with you. Them’s the rules you agreed to.”
“Very well. We do this together.” He slung an arm around her. “Prepare yourself. This might be jarring.”
Just as before, she melted against him and ran her palms over his chest. “I’ll be sure to hang on real tight.”
Flash. They materialized directly in front of Blythe, chin-deep in the icy water. He treaded his feet, holding the siren with one hand and snagging the harphantom with the other as a wave rolled past.
Monna screeched. Blythe fought him, but it was too late. He held fast and flashed to the beach.
Upon landing on solid ground, the siren curled against him, muttering, “So c-c-cold, k-k-keep me warm.”
Blythe wrenched free from his clasp. He expected an immediate attack, but she stayed where she was, drenched and glaring, her eyes a haunting mix of black and blue. The gown clung to her water-dotted skin. And he’d considered the garment transparent before. Every curve defined...
Roux licked his lips. His flesh might be the temperature of ice, but his blood burned white-hot. The sight of her body, a perfect hourglass...
He thought he heard Monna exclaim, “So big! And still growing! By the way, you touched me first, and I consider that my permission. Stay silent if you agree.”
Focus on what matters. Right. Anger overlaid his attraction. Blythe had endangered herself as well as his mission. She must be stopped from ever doing so again.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Blythe’s teeth chattered. “You’re making it difficult to contain my hatred for you.”
“Go ahead. Unleash it.” He stepped toward her in challenge. “Let the wraith drain more of your strength.”
She jumped to avoid contact. A mistake. Her knees buckled. She careened to her backside and stayed put, panting and glowering up at him. The hem of the dress—nightgown—whatever bunched above her knees, revealing more of her legs.
Roux scrubbed a hand over his drying mouth. Too beautiful, and too stubborn. That’s what she was. Why not keep the ruby on her until the end of the tournament? Forcing her to dial down her abhorrence for him could only aid his task. There would be fewer attempts to take Roux out or reach Wraith Island. The weaker his charge, the less damage she could do.
As long as he kept her by his side, she would be perfectly safe. Yes. He liked this plan. Once he’d successfully crowned the new queen of Ation, he would work to free Blythe. Until then...
Best to hobble her in other ways, too. He reached behind his back and summoned the chains from his pack. The metal links with accompanying shackles appeared in his waiting grip. If—when—he did this, Blythe’s loathing for him was sure to double. Triple. Harpies were notorious for their aversion to fetters. But so what? Wasn’t as though he had a chance with her anyway. Or that he even desired a chance.
The burn to touch her and be touched by her would go away sooner or later.
“Know you brought this on yourself,” he grated, revealing the contraption to Blythe.
“Ohhhh. Is that for you or me or me and her?” Monna squealed with happiness. “Never mind. I say yes! I’m into it.”
The harphantom clambered to her feet. “Don’t you dare come near me with that thing.”
“I dare anything when it comes to the well-being of the Astra and the safety of my task.” Perhaps her safety factored into the equation as well. He kept his gaze locked with hers as he prepared the cuffs for her wrists. “I gave you a chance to behave. Now I’ll force the issue.”
“I won’t go down easily,” she snapped.
“I know. But you will go down.” He wasted no time, flashing closer and caging her in his arms.
She fought hard, injuring herself to injure him. He absorbed any abuse. Twice he lost his grip on her. Such soft, slippery skin. A thousand times, he lost his mind. Such lush, feminine curves. Fire consumed his veins, a distraction he couldn’t afford. In the end, he had to drop the shackles, pin her atop a mossy rock with her arms over her head, and straddle her waist to subdue her. Unexpectedly winded, he summoned the chains.