Total pages in book: 203
Estimated words: 199654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 998(@200wpm)___ 799(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 998(@200wpm)___ 799(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
But the fact that we’re not holding the artifacts, the fact that Danica took off, dropping Bailey off at my hotel and not speaking to me has me thinking I was played. Maybe we both were. Played by the Young witches to put me and Bailey somewhere where I’d suddenly recognize her scent. But why the fuck here?
She has never smelled like apples before. And I just started dreaming about them again after years of not having those dreams, so I did wonder if I was dreaming of my mate’s smell. If I was being introduced to it in my dreams so I’d know it when I found it. As soon as she fell into me in that car, it was crystal clear. And shocking as fuck.
I know full well that the Young coven played games to get Tyson and Ivy together. To get Mason and Amie together. I don’t know if they set any of the Grey and Stacy events in motion, but there was all sorts of coven involvement surrounding Riley’s mating and the ensuing seven years of grief for him. Are we another couple of chumps? More targets of this meddling coven? How long before they figure out they fucked up and put us in the clutches of a dark magic hungry Starling witch?
I blow out a long breath in an effort to calm myself down. So I can think. Is there an expiry on this thing? Is there anything I can have her do to get us out of this without putting her in harm’s way?
My throat is like a desert. And the odor of this flower is cloying, clawing at all my senses, driving me half-mad. And beyond that, smelling her, knowing now that she’s supposed to be mine. Wanting to dive into that smell with nothing in between us…
It hasn’t fully sunk in, I guess. Because all this other shit is in the way.
And Bailey is sitting beside me, crying. Her shirt is still nearly halfway unbuttoned and driving my cock half-around the bend to the degree I can see me using it to drill straight through this bubble I’m in to get to her.
Bailey Blackwood. My closest friend’s little sister. The bookish, little librarian with a body made for sin who’s been crushing on me since she was in pigtails. Fuck sakes. What’s Grey gonna think about this? I don’t know what I even think about this.
All I know is I’m pissed at her and maybe for no good reason because evidence points to those Young witches setting us up, obviously not realizing what this Starling witch had planned. And I’m also pissed because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. I can’t protect her, can’t claim her. And I can’t seem to calm my shit down, either. Testosterone keeps flooding my adrenals and I’m a cornered, trapped predator. I am pure rage.
Footsteps again. I hear the door creak open and the light flicks on so I fly to my feet, moving close to the bottom of the staircase so I can block whoever it is from getting anywhere near her.
I hold steady despite the nausea.
It’s the second guy, not the one who drove or who carried her down here. He’s holding a bag out. He looks intimidated.
“Food,” he says and sets it on the steps halfway down.
I have no idea how long since she last ate, but I don’t trust these assholes, so I say, “Shove it up your ass.”
“She should drink something. Nothing’s been opened.”
He’s got an accent, but speaks perfect English.
“What do you want with us? We don’t have what she’s after.”
“I have a pillow and blanket for her, too.” He backs up and disappears through the open door. I rush up but hit an invisible wall at the doorway. This shield around me is too large for me to squeeze through.
“Fuck!” I shout.
The other guy steps up and the witch moves in to stand behind him, fear in her eyes.
“Unless you want a war, I suggest you call Grey Blackwood,” I say. “I wanna talk to him. I’ll negotiate to get you the artifacts.”
She raises her eyebrows in surprise and disbelief.
“I don’t give a fuck about that wand,” I say. “I do give a fuck about getting out of here with my mate.”
She laughs. “Yet you were willing to see it safely to the archives? I doubt you don’t care if I get my hands on it.”
“Get Greyson Blackwood on the phone. Maybe I can swing a deal. You let Bailey leave, giving over her phone and bag and when she gets home safely and un-fucking-touched, they’ll come back with the artifacts and get me out of this spelled bubble. Unless you have the ability to do that?”
I hate the thought of letting her out of my sight, of trusting them to let her go, but I don’t want that other fucker near her. My gut tells me the younger one isn’t the threat the other one is. I did not like how the other one looked at her. I don’t want his filthy mitts on her again.