Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“Well, Torin could have picked a better time,” Dante complains. We stopped by a lovely brook to rest for a bit before moving on. The sun is warm on my face, and I allow my worries to drift away. My skin still sings from the morning session with Dante. He proved true to his word, waking me up by rolling his body on top of mine. He kissed me and played with my breasts. By the time he thrust his cock deep inside, I was begging him to take me.
We stopped twice since we left camp this morning. Each time he pulled me off into the woods and had what he calls his “wicked way” with me. Once, he fed from me.
Oh, I love when he is hungry. When he first caught me with his eyes, I lost all fear. After that first time, I was happy to submit. The pleasure that courses through me when he feeds is like nothing I felt before. For the time he drinks from me, I am connected to him. I am warm and safe and loved.
But I can no longer see his soul. The first time he fed, I saw pieces of his childhood. It was a flash of Dante and his family. There was a bowl of something called punch and candles floated on top. He was a boy trying to blow out eight candles so he could have his toys. When I was in the moment with him, I felt like I belonged. Dante’s parents loved him.
But then the vision closed, and though I tried to get it to come back, I could not see it again. There was only pleasure, but none of the spine-melting intimacy of the first time.
Meg shakes her head and relaxes back on the grass. “If I get murdered, it’s going to be all your fault.”
Dante’s eyes open. “Kaj, love, do you sense an army coming after us?”
I take the question seriously. I close my eyes because they often lie. My nose does not. I breathe in the world around me. Dante’s signature is the strongest. I love the way our scents mingle. He is on me and I on him. I can still smell our lovemaking. I find the scent comforting. I sense Meg. Beyond that there is only the forest and the clean smell of the water.
“No. Though there are several small creatures near.” My stomach growls. I glance back around at the brush behind us. There is a slender tree standing right in front of the bush.
I straighten up because I am absolutely certain it wasn’t there before. I remember staring at the bushes, thick with brambles, and knowing I could find a meal there. There was no tree in front of it. I study the one there now. It is slender. A mere babe compared to the giants around it. The trunk is an ashen gray, and there are lovely, graceful branches sprouting from its top. I note that the dirt around it has been disturbed. It forms a near perfect circle around the tree’s base, as though it was planted by two hands rather than growing in a natural way.
Gently, I ease Dante’s head from my lap.
“Kaja?” Dante sits up, but I am working on the problem. My brain races. There is something about that tree. I search my memory. Trees look alike. But smell does not lie.
I get to my feet and approach the tree in question. I touch it, feeling the bark. It is a youngling. The bark isn’t rough yet. It is soft against my hand. I sniff at the limbs. They smell like another part of the forest. I remember it from the night before.
“This tree is following us.”
Dante is on his feet beside me. “Maybe you don’t understand things on this plane. Trees tend to stay planted in the ground. You see, they have these things called roots.”
Dante continues on, but I smile. The little tree shakes its branches. It is as though it knows it is caught and gives up the game. One limb comes out and pats my cheek with playful affection before turning its attention to Meg.
Dante throws his hands up. “See, that’s weird. What the hell is that? Is it a weird Fae thing? Maybe we should chop it down.”
A single branch extends, and the leaves form something like a human hand. I think the tree is going to wave, but it merely closes its “fist,” leaving only the middle “finger” extended.
“Now that’s just rude.” Dante stares the tree down. “Since when do saplings give me the finger?”
Meg walks forward, tears in her eyes. “Cian.”
“Since when did Cian become a tree?” Dante reaches out to me, his hand finding mine. He pulls me behind him.
I am not sure what he is trying to protect me from. The tree does not seem to be hostile. And the tree seems far more interested in Meg.