Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Amrath flinches as if I’ve stabbed him, then downs my drink. “You insolent piece of shit! I only came over to warn you, but do go on. You’re free to make your own mistakes!”
I’m so shocked by the sudden outburst my body tips back, and if the column carved to picture galloping unicorns wasn’t in my way I might have fallen off the chair.
My heart’s beating frantically, like a terrified rabbit attempting to flee the snare, but there’s nowhere to run.
“Amrath.” Tristan’s voice is such a steady baritone, a shiver goes down my back and I wonder if it has the same effect on the other elf. I’m jealous of his pointy ears possibly picking up more sound than mine.
Amrath’s eyes are like crystal daggers when they turn to Tristan. “Tristan,” he says cooly.
“Making new friends, I see? Does this mean you’re done sulking at the sight of me?”
The elf slams the glass on the counter and gets up. “You are not worth ‘sulking’ over, Tristan. Is your wing still broken?”
This is like something from one of those outrageous reality shows my grandma forbade me to watch. But instead of being engineered by the producers, the drama is playing out in real time, right in front of me. And as wary as I am of putting my trust in a person I only met yesterday, I don’t think this beautiful stranger with nerves of paper is someone whose testimony I should believe either. I swallow and try meeting Tristan’s gaze above Amrath’s arm.
Every eye in the tavern is on us now, which makes me feel even more naked in my everyday clothes that match the scenery about as much as a nylon patch does a fancy evening dress.
Seems that Tristan does have a flair for the dramatic too, because the shadowy webbed wings emerge from his back and spread wider than ever before.
“Fully fixed and healed. Any other stupid questions, or can I ask my—Nate for a dance?”
It’s been a while since I’ve been this glad about having an opportunity to leave someone’s side, so I take Tristan’s hand.
It’s cotton-soft, but also strong, reassuring, and when he pulls me behind him, putting himself between me and Amrath, I’m tempted to bury my face in one of his shadowy wings. Either my brain is permanently frazzled in Tristan’s presence, or I swear they have a smell of their own. Deep, smoky like their color.
Amrath puts his hands up. “Go on! Don’t let me stop you. It’s not like my requests ever mattered.”
He’s a drama king if I ever saw one and walks off with a sway to his shoulders.
Tristan turns to me with a groan. “I’m sorry you had to meet him. Just disregard whatever he told you. Our room is set up, Lady is safely tucked in. Shall we dance? You can leave your coat with the bartender.” His fingers slide over my cheeks, and he kisses me softly before I get to answer.
So many questions are floating in my head, but then our lips meet, and they’re all gone, leaving behind only longing and the growing certainty that maybe I do deserve to be here? I’ve been a good person all my life—not perfect, but trying to do my best—and maybe this is fate rewarding me with everything I ever dreamed of, and even things I didn’t dare to?
It might be reckless, but is it such a sin that I want to lean into his touch?
“Why does he hate you so much?”
I can sense the eyes on us, but there’s music, the elves talk and go about their business, so I’m not even that self-conscious.
“Very simple. He wished for more than I was willing to offer. Sometimes a tryst is just that.” He catches my attention with his golden gaze as he gently spins us to an empty space. “While at other times, the curiosity runs deeper, and the connection might blossom under the moonlight.”
The way he says this, looking straight at me, has all my nerve endings dancing. This could be a lie—Tristan wouldn’t be the first man to overpromise his affection, only to lose interest in the person he was courting, but he does sound sincere.
Am I gullible?
Maybe?
But when he pulls me into the green light of the chandelier, one hand on my waist, the other still warming my cheek, I find myself exactly where I want to be.
The center of his attention.
Living out a fantastical scene straight from books where romance is real.
“How can you tell the difference so fast?”
He kisses me again, this time licking under my top lip. I’m glad my jeans aren’t tight because that simple gesture has my cock twitching. “It’s the sweetness inside you,” he whispers with a grin. The music changes and turns into something slower, with a brooding undertone of the violin joining the other instruments. Tristan chuckles. “Ah, this one is for us. It’s about Lordess Camani and her Dark Companion.”