Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
My voice rises before I can stop it. “Why did you punch Wesley? He was trying to protect me.”
Justice glances at me. Blood smears his cheek, his neck is bruised, and his knuckles are raw, split open like he punched through glass. His expression doesn’t flicker. “I think I was pretty clear about that,” he says mildly.
“All he did was step between us. He was trying to protect me.”
Justice’s gaze sharpens. “That’s not his job. It’s mine. He’s lucky I pulled the punch.”
My skin is buzzing, my pulse pounding, and I can’t believe the gall of him. “I don’t know what you think is going on between us, but it’s not. You don’t own me.”
“The fuck I don’t.”
My head jerks so hard I’m pretty sure I put out a disc. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” There’s fire in his tone now. Even though his voice stays calm, mild almost, every nerve in my body tries to take the heat. It’s too late for that. Not only am I furious with him, I’m jacked up from finally exchanging energy with a decent-sized citrine. My body is still humming, alive and raw.
We walk through the cleaned-up penthouse, which is impressive, and he pushes open the door to his room. “Get changed.”
“No,” I say flatly.
“That’s it.” He grabs me, one hand sliding into my hair, fingers threading through and his palm cupping the back of my skull. The pull sends a sharp sting down my spine, oddly erotic but with a bite that leaves no question who’s in control. With that grip, he propels me straight into the bathroom and flips on the light.
“Haven’t we already done this?” I mutter.
“You are such a brat.”
The smack to my ass actually hurts, the sharp crack echoing in the tiled room. “Hey—”
“Do it, or I’ll do it for you.” He rips at his bloody clothes, peeling them off with rough, sure movements.
“Fine.” My voice scrapes. I’m covered in dust and blood and particles from the explosion. Every inch of me feels coated in grime. I yank off the ruined clothes and step under the warm spray. The water pours down my shoulders, sluicing away dirt and tension almost instantly. God, it feels good.
He follows me in without hesitation and nudges me aside so he can wash the blood off his face and hands. The water runs red for a moment before circling down the drain. I angle my head, studying him from the corner of my eye.
His body is spectacular—pure muscle, hard steel, unyielding. His shoulders look like they could hold up the weight of the building.
My gaze catches on the cut above his forehead. “You probably need stitches.”
“I don’t need stitches. Just a Band-Aid.”
He’s probably correct. If he’s been exchanging energy with garnets, and obviously he has, since Thorn’s out of town, his healing properties will be elevated. Yet another side effect of the gifts we’ve learned to enhance through the years.
He looks at me, eyes sharp through the steam. “Now’s about a good time for you to say thank you.”
No way. “For what?” I snap.
“Saving your damn life.”
“My godmother would’ve handled it.” I tap a finger on my lip, letting the water bead and drip off my chin.
He snorts.
I chuckle, my body relaxing. “We need to talk. Sylveria is infected in a different way than you are, and not from my virus.”
His eyes darken. “Are you sure it isn’t the same one that’s in me?”
“Yes. I was in the TimeGem servers for a while and memorized the code. I can send it to Kaz and he can check. I think there’s a slight variation, to be honest.”
He nods. “Yeah, that makes sense with the attacks against us all.” He reaches out, grabs the shampoo, and starts lathering my hair. His fingers work strong and slow, and I fight the urge to lean into him. I really don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good this feels. Tingles spark across my scalp and wander down my body, loosening muscles that have been tight for hours. I close my eyes, surrendering despite myself.
“Just because this feels good doesn’t mean I like you,” I mumble as warm water glides over me.
“I don’t like you either. Yet.”
His hands are gentle now, working through my hair with a patience I didn’t know he had. When he’s done, he rinses me clean, then scrubs his own hair and face while the spray slides down both of our bodies. Heat from the water mixes with the warmth between us until I can’t tell the difference. My chest tightens as I step into him, drawn against every ounce of better judgment I have left.
He grabs my hair rougher this time, yanking my head back to take my mouth in a kiss. The contact is brutal, devouring. Heat surrounds me, fills me, consumes me. God, the man can kiss. His mouth takes control, and his body presses powerful and sure, all around me, demanding I yield.