Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
He stepped closer, only a few feet away, looking down into her hate-soaked eyes with a cocky, insufferable grin.
“You’ve changed.” A slight accent rode his words, the vowels somewhat softer. He tilted his head, studying her. “When I met you last, you didn’t have magic. It never mattered, though, did it? You always noticed me. No matter how tightly I wrapped my glamor around me, your gaze found me every time I was in your presence. In the halls. In the garden. There was no hiding from you. Your gaze and yours alone. I thought that curious, so I sought you out. Do you remember the first time we met face to face?”
Memories crowded in before Daisy could do damage control. The thrum of her body, the fire in her gut.
His lips curled devilishly. “Yes, exactly. I felt just like that. I feel just like that, right now. Curious, isn’t it?”
Curious? Maybe. Frustrating? Absolutely.
His hand blurred when it moved. An artfully decorated, curved blade appeared in his palm.
Her training finally kicked in and she reacted. Her hand swung forward, the throwing knife with it. Her fingers relaxed at the right moment, releasing the knife.
He realized it too late. His twist wasn’t fast enough, and the knife lodged into his side.
He hissed as he stepped forward.
She swiped her hand away and ducked into the fight, her dagger in her palm as if by magic. She sliced across his chest and angled the blade, shoving up to get him under the jaw. His height made the move easy. His longer reach made his counter in such close proximity more difficult. She’d learned to use her smaller stature to her benefit.
Both of her hands were on the hilt. She’d need all her strength.
Right when the blade neared that incredibly handsome face—such a waste to slice it off—a shock of pressure stopped her limbs. Her hand was forced open, letting go of the dagger. Tingling air slammed into her body, but it didn’t feel like what Kieran could do with Poseidon’s magic, a wall of air. This felt wilder. Unruly. Uncontrolled, almost, like it was writhing and twisting over her skin.
Fae magic, obviously.
An earthy fragrance coincided with her slamming back against the wall. Her hands were glued to the hard surface, as were her feet. An invisible band of dark air, shimmering with golden hues, wrapped around her waist to ensure she stayed put.
Well, shit. This fight hadn’t gone well.
She sucked in a deep breath and tried to relax, pushing away the fear. There was no point in struggling while magic secured her. She’d have to wait for an opening to try again. A slip-up. Even the most experienced fighter made mistakes. One just needed patience to take advantage of it. She had to believe even fae made errors.
“Ouch,” he said with obvious humor as he plucked the throwing knife from his side. “Look how vicious you are! Adorable. That was a very hard love bite, little dove. Wrong type of weapon to make the effect permanent, however. This won’t slow one of my—” He paused as he looked at his torso. “You’ve ruined my shirt! What will my new friends think?”
He glanced at the apartment down the way to relay who his new friends were.
“It doesn’t really matter,” she replied. “They’re all dead. Or nearly, at any rate.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good, then. Saves me the trouble.” He tossed her throwing knife off the ledge and bent to pick up her dagger, balancing precariously on the edge. He hefted it once, twice, and then put his own knife away. “This is well made. Still the wrong type of weapon, obviously. The gashes you created are nearly gone already.” He paused, looking down at her. “You are very fast, little dove. I am truly impressed.” He wiped the blade free of his blood, further ruining his shirt. “Fast, vicious, and exceedingly beautiful. Like a fragile vase—when broken, its shard will slice a vital point and spill all of one’s lifeblood.”
“Poetic,” she said dryly.
“Yes. I moonlight as a bard.” His grin was mischievous. “Just kidding. I kill people and take their possessions. It’s nearly the same thing, don’t you think? Anyway, back to our friendly conversation that you ruined by trying to kill me. The feeling when I was around you at that convention caught me by surprise. And it clearly caught you the same way, both then and now. You weren’t magical at that time, correct? Now, however…” His eyes narrowed as his gaze delved into hers. “What has happened? What has changed with you? I feel the magic, but it isn’t yours. How is that possible?”
Tingles washed over her body. Pressure pounded behind her eyes.
“Are you shuffling through my memories?” she said warily, trying to hide the panic.
She’d known from four years ago that he must possess the mindgazer power, something necessary in his line of work, given he ransacked people for their knowledge. Demigod Lydia had mentioned something about that…before she forfeited her end of their deal and her life with it. She was the reason this fae had needed a “distraction.”