Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Avery!
I looked up to see my small, blond roommate lying on the bed under me. It was his chest my head had been resting on and his arms were still wrapped loosely around me, holding me to him.
His own head was turned to one side, exposing the vulnerable side of his throat. I winced when I saw the dark, reddish bruise surrounded by bite marks—my bite marks, I realized. I had bitten him hard enough to draw blood when my Drake demanded his submission.
I remembered fighting with my Drake, who had been insisting that if we couldn’t have Avery, no one else should either. He had wanted to bite harder, deeper…the thought was almost too awful to remember and I tried to push it away as I traced the bite with my eyes.
Then something else caught my gaze.
Avery’s thick blonde hair was pushed back from his forehead and there, glimmering like a soft white star between his eyes, I saw a Mark—my Mark.
Reaching up, I felt my own forehead and a tingle ran through me. Not only had I Marked him as my own, I had insisted that he Mark me as well. Just as though he really was my l’lorna and we were destined to be lovers and fated mates.
A wave of shame ran through me. Not because I had Marked another male and let him mark me in turn—that had been my Drake’s demand. No, the shame I felt was for what I had put Avery through. He was smaller than me—not as small as a female, but small enough that I felt I had abused him—forced him to do things he didn’t want. Of course he couldn’t fight me off—not with my own strength multiplied many times by the power of my Drake!
Dios, what was wrong with me, treating one I cared for like that?
I levered myself off him, being careful not to wake him, and went to my own bed. I missed his warmth at once, but I didn’t deserve it—didn’t deserve him. He had been so kind and good and patient with me and I had done nothing but hurt and scar him in return. What was happening to me? What was I becoming?
My Drake—it’s his fault!
But I knew that wasn’t strictly true. It wasn’t only my Drake who longed for Avery’s touch.
I longed for it, too.
Even now, I wanted to go back to bed with him. Wanted to wrap my arms around him and feel his skin against mine—wanted to hold him and be held by him as I breathed in his scent. I wanted to wake him with a kiss and look into his eyes as I took his mouth with mine, wanted to feel his hands in my hair and all over my body as we lost ourselves in each other…
I had never wanted anything more badly in my life and my Drake had nothing to do with it—he was sleeping.
I pushed these thoughts away. None of that was true—it couldn’t be true. All my life I’d been raised to believe how wrong it was for two males to be together. I couldn’t be a man-lover.
Could I?
I was still struggling with that question when I at last closed my eyes and fell back into an exhausted slumber.
20
AVERY
I woke up the next morning feeling cold and stiff and uncomfortable. Frowning, I looked down at myself with blurry eyes. Well, no wonder I was cold! I wasn’t even under the covers and it got chilly in the dungeon at night. Also, why had I gone to sleep with my trousers on? They were unfastened, as though I had meant to pull them down but…
Wait—I’m not the one who unfastened them!
Suddenly I remembered Saint’s hands on my body, stroking and touching, telling me he wanted—no, needed to be inside me…
Oh Goddess—we hadn’t done that had we?
No, I remembered, as more of the night before came back to me. But we had certainly done…other things. I touched my fingertips to the spot between my eyebrows and felt an answering tingle. Oh yes, we had done more than enough.
“Good morning.” The low, rough voice to my left made me turn my head. I saw Saint sitting on the side of his bed with his elbows resting on his knees. He was looking down at the flagstone floor between our beds, not meeting my eyes.
“Uh, good morning?” I said, not sure if it really was a good morning or not. It certainly didn’t look like my roommate was having one—he had yet to look up at me and make any kind of eye contact. “Saint?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
He gave a short, barking laugh that had no humor in it at all.
“You’re asking me that? After the way I treated you last night?”
“You were kind of rough,” I said cautiously. “But your Drake—”