Series: Charmaine Pauls
Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
What the heck? How the hell did those lizards get in? Gaia said it was safe in the palace.
Aruan’s chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. Voicing my thoughts, he asks angrily, “How the dragons did they get in? None of them could get past the main entrance, and the guards sealed all the exits.”
“I don’t know,” Tarix says. “The bastards are like insects. They crawl out of the wood like termites.”
My relief is so great I can’t help myself from exclaiming, “Aruan, thank goodness you’re okay.” I don’t examine that relief too deeply.
He turns his face my way, and what I see in his expression stills me. Sure, there’s that murderous intent, that killing vibe from earlier, but there’s also unexpected tenderness and stark relief that reflects my own.
“Elsie.” He frowns, his eyes crinkling in the corners with concern. “Why aren’t you in my quarters?”
Something passes between us, a knowledge that one of us could’ve lost the other, and it sparks a deep and disturbing discord inside me, an ill feeling that makes me want to howl and tear my clothes in a dramatic act. And that says a lot because I hate drama. I’ve never been the dramatic type.
Awareness sizzles between us, crackling in the air. His focus changes from killing to something else, something that heats me like a red-hot rod dunked in a cup of water to boil it. My skin starts to tingle, and the tops of my ears begin to burn. Static noise drowns out all other sound. He watches me with undivided attention, his scrutiny so intense that it scares me.
Tarix and the rest of the world vanish. Nothing exists but Aruan. I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s as if everything has been condensed into a narrow tunnel, and I already know I’m going to barrel down it no matter where it leads.
Aruan makes it to me in a few long strides, carelessly dropping his sword in the midst of crossing the floor. He aims for me like a missile locked onto a target, and I welcome the explosion with open arms.
His lips are on mine before I have time to suck in a breath. My heartbeat is all over the place, a crazy, wild rhythm that gallops in my chest.
“Elsie,” he breathes against my lips.
I pull away to look at him, a desperate need compelling me to study his handsome face. Just as I do so, something moves in my peripheral vision. I turn my head toward it, and then horror turns me to stone.
A Phaelix has jumped out from behind one of the side archways, his sickle raised in the air, and he’s charging straight at Aruan.
“Aruan!” I scream, but it’s too late.
The tip of the halfmoon blade catches Aruan’s shoulder. Aruan must’ve caught on just before the Phaelix dealt the blow because the Phaelix is already disintegrating. But the blade has done enough damage. Blood pools from the cut in Aruan’s shirt, blooming red over the white fabric.
“Aruan,” I cry out again. “Your shoulder! You’re bleeding.”
He bends his arm and touches the gash at the back of his shoulder. Then he wipes his other hand over the wound and brings both hands to his face. Surprise transforms his features as he stares at the blood coating his palms. He didn’t even feel that cut, but that fact doesn’t put me at ease. The disconcerting thought that hits me is that Aruan isn’t entirely invincible. Despite his strength and power, he’s capable of dying. Very much so.
I’m trembling from my head to my toes. I’ve never felt fear so acutely, and it isn’t for myself. The fear is for Aruan.
Aruan turns to me frantically, cupping my cheeks with his bloodstained hands. “Are you all right?”
I manage a terse nod.
He pulls me roughly against him, sheltering me against the hard wall of his chest. For once, I’m glad that I can lean against him and borrow some of his strength.
“Dragons,” Tarix says. “I tried to get to him, but he had too much distance on me. It’s a good thing you vaporized the vermin before he could get his blade deeper into you.”
Despite the blood running down Aruan’s arm, his stance remains vigilant. He doesn’t show any signs of weakness or pain. “We’d better check if there’s more of that scum hiding somewhere in the palace.”
“There are none,” Kian says from the double doors, entering the hall with long, easy strides. “The palace is empty of any signs of their pea-sized brains.” He stops short of us. “We’ve cleared the grounds. The Phaelix have retreated. The village is safe too.”
“Thank the dragons,” Tarix says, wiping a hand over his brow.
Kian nods at Aruan’s wound. “You’d better have that looked at before you bleed out. I’ll tell Vitai to come.”
Aruan glances down. “It’s just a scratch. I can take care of it myself.”