Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
He kisses the insides of each of my wrists, his touch soft and warm.
“What goes on in the camps? Tell me the truth.”
Dropping butterfly soft kisses along each of my knuckles, he says, “Take whatever horrible fate you’ve imagined befalls the humans who volunteer and triple it, then you might be close to the answer.”
I yank my hands from him. “Why?”
His look isn’t mocking, not cruel. Just frank. “You know why, Georgia.”
“You’re just killing people? Is it you? Is that where you go?”
He scoffs. “I have no need of cattle.”
“We aren’t cattle!” I yell. “We’re people. Idrine was a person, and you killed him!”
“I didn’t kill him.” He stands, his gaze snagging on the lamp in the window before returning to me.
“Not him, but others?”
“Many others,” he admits.
“What was I thinking?” I press my palms to my face. “Letting you in. I never should have—”
“You couldn’t stop it.” He takes my hand again and pulls me to my feet.
I push away, but he holds me fast, one of his palms going to the back of my neck, collaring me. “Let go.”
“Never.” He grips my hair, pulling my head back as he glides his tongue along my throat, sending a shiver through me. “Listen,” he whispers. “Listen to your blood dance at the nearness of mine.”
I shudder as he sucks my neck, my traitorous knees going weak. I’m enraged, horrified, but that doesn’t stop the electric pull I feel to him. “I hate you.”
“You keep saying it.” He yanks on my strands, making me gasp. “But I can scent your need. It tells me you’re lying.”
I press my thighs together, heat rushing into my face as he slides his other hand down my back and grips my ass.
“You want me just as badly as I want you.” He kisses lower, his mouth at my collarbones. “My blood calls to yours just as yours does to mine.”
“Leave.” I gasp as he lets me go, one of his hands at my waist, steadying me. “Now.”
“I’ll be back for you, Georgia. Always.” His sharp gaze cuts through all my reasoning in the same way as his touch. He sees me. I don’t know how, but he sees so much more of me than anyone else ever has. I only wish I could see him as clearly.
He leaves, and I melt into a puddle on the couch, a million conflicting emotions flooding through me. He’s a monster. A killer. One who finally told me the truth about the camps. I hate it when my mind whispers that he’s been far more honest with me than Juno has, that he’s been here for me when she’s all but a ghost. Even so, she’s my sister. Not by blood, but she’s my family all the same. Valen and I aren’t even the same species, I remind myself.
For hours, I stay on the couch and try to read. The words in my book don’t have any meaning. They run together on the page again and again, but I force myself to focus. To do anything other than wonder about Aang. The impulse to go check in with Wyatt hits me again and again, but the rational part of me knows it’s a bad idea. Not because I might overwhelm Aang, but because my sister may be responsible for his partner’s death. Wyatt didn’t say it, but I know he was thinking it when he asked us to leave. I can’t blame him.
I’m dozing when I hear my doorbell sound. Scrambling up, I dash down the hall and press the button. “Hi?” It ends up sounding more like a question than a greeting.
“Roof,” is the gruff response. I don’t even see anyone on the camera.
I want to ask if it’s Gage, but I’m scared to say his name if he’s in danger just being here. Besides, who else would show up and ask me to meet on the roof?
Just in case, I grab a knife from the kitchen, then enter the stairwell and look up. I’ve never explored higher than my floor, but I suppose now’s the time. I climb two flights before finding a door marked with warning signs. Pushing through it, I find another short set of stairs and a door with even more danger signs and warnings plastered on it.
I push the bar and open the door just a little, but the wind catches and swings it wide. Scrambling out, I wrestle it back and close it, then turn and look around. My hair whips in my face as my eyes adjust to the darkness, the half moon overhead not granting enough light.
“Georgia?” Someone steps out from behind one of the large air conditioning units. Even in the low light, I can tell he has copper hair.
I lower my knife. “Gage.” I ease around a skylight and then the metal vents, giving the edge of the roof a wide berth, to reach him.