Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Yes.” He turned a corner, his jaw still tight. “That is something.”
She studied his face, her arms wrapped around his neck. His knees nearly buckled at the soft look in her eyes, speaking directly to the warmth radiating in his middle.
The soft look currently warring with her annoyance, at any rate. He felt like laughing. Definitely scribe material. Above all, she wanted answers. Well…him and answers. Equally so. He wanted to comply, but not yet. Not until they were in the safety of his chambers and she was properly seen to.
“What did I do wrong?” she asked. “Should I not have killed— Oh shit, did I kill the princess? I couldn’t tell what sort of creature it was. It was too far away for me to feel its soul—if it had one—so…” She grimaced, fear running amok. “Fuck, I wasn’t thinking. Fuck! It was just that…it was so twisted and wrong. It was—”
“Daisy, steady,” he said, holding her tighter. “I don’t know what—or who—it was, but it wasn’t any of the royals. The king wouldn’t have allowed them to leave. None of the nobility would leave, either. The Fallen will report to us shortly.”
“Okay, seriously…what, then?”
He reached his chambers and pushed open the door. Once inside, he cut straight for the bedroom. He set her on her feet and slowed, his gaze stopping on the blood crusted on her dress.
It’s ruined, she thought absently, noticing his gaze. Not that my alterations hadn’t already started the transition to “unwearable.”
He smirked. She had an acute eye for fashion. He absolutely loved that about her, especially when she was hard on herself for it. Everyone else thought her alterations were fantastic. She’d only roll her eyes to hear it.
He delicately lifted the fabric over her head. She slipped off her bangles as she bent to look at her stomach. Five puncture marks were evident, all of them somewhat healed but bleeding again from her exertions a moment ago. They were as clean as if a sharp knife had pierced her. Magic, obviously.
He gritted his teeth as a wave of rage tugged him under. The princess would watch her world burn for what she’d done to Daisy. He couldn’t directly harm her, but he knew enough to indirectly tear everything down that she held dear. Every fae courtier, every priceless relic, every last comfort she thought she kept private. She didn’t know what pain was. He’d show her.
“Stay there.” He stopped in his turn to go and put out a finger. “I mean it. Don’t move.”
His tone means he’s serious, Daisy thought, unable to help her running commentary. But then, isn’t he always? I’m not accustomed to—
He lifted one eyebrow.
Her mental commentary reduced to a slight buzz of internal pain. It would have to do.
He nodded and left the room, still paying attention to her mental voice. It never stopped, and it wasn’t quiet.
Her mind replayed images of the fight, the magic, and how she’d used her power to snuff out the threat.
Maybe I shouldn’t have killed the creature on the other end, she thought as he grabbed a bowl, water, and bandages. It didn’t make sense not to, since they were attacking, but…maybe there are…some rules I don’t know…
He shrugged out of his jacket, laid it on the back of the couch, and brought the supplies into the bedroom.
“Here.”
Her eyes widened in fear and worry. Images tumbled through his mind, her projecting without meaning to. It was something she did when in a heightened state of anxiety. Blood marred various places on his ripped undershirt. The wounds lay open and bleeding. Pain throbbed from them, but they looked worse than they were. Mostly.
“Oh my—” Her hands shook as she reached for him. “Don’t here me—Tarian, hell—get something on that!” She snatched away the washcloth he’d brought, threw it on the bed, and reached for his undershirt.
“I’m fine. I’m fine—” He pushed her hands to her sides before reaching for the washcloth. “Daisy, I am fine. I’ll heal. I’m fae. Let’s get you taken care of.”
More thoughts and images jumbled in her mind.
This feels like back when I was a Chester without the Demigod magic and they babied me because I got a scrape. Images accented the thoughts. Scents. Feelings. A random song played in the back of her head that didn’t pertain to anything at all. Well, now I have magic. I’m not even remotely as breakable as these arrogant fucks think. I will not be babied. It’s insulting.
Her eyes narrowed as they moved around his face, violence imminent.
I don’t want to punch that pretty face… came floating out. A fat lip would ruin him for kissing.
He chuckled. In times like this, it was impossible not to laugh or react.
He applied the cloth to her stomach. “Okay, you are not as breakable as fae might think. Yes, that Demigod magic does help. Honestly, you’d be dead now if it didn’t. Yes, you will very likely give any fae competitors a run for their money. Okay? But Daisy, just—shut the fuck up and let me tend to you. Hide your thoughts.”