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)
“Really? And you didn’t show me?” I ask, feeling hurt. I gave my life to save her and I didn’t even know she could do tricks?
“I will show you downstairs,” he teases, wiggling his fingers as if to coax me out.
Bastard.
But he might have found the key to my self-imposed cell, because I squeeze his fingers and finally place my foot on the step below. My body shifts, following his, and just like that, I’m out of my rooms.
I’m on the stairs leading to the library, and the world did not end.
I grin at Tristan, then sob as tears fill my eyes. It’s embarrassing, and I’m about to retreat in shame when he pulls my face onto his shoulder and bathes me in that exquisite scent. Smoked fern. Salt. Leather.
I don’t think I could exist without this aroma anymore.
“It’s all right.” He doesn’t call me ‘sweetheart’ or kiss my head, just holds me close as if he’s my sanctuary.
It’s strange to physically feel so good when my mind is still halfway back in Gloombane’s tower. One of the medics told me it’s why a few of my scars are not fading. As someone who studied veterinary medicine, I wanted to dismiss that, but since their potions and salves don’t work like the human ones, maybe she’s right, and my mind is holding me back.
I hear faint barking from downstairs, and Tristan laughs. “We’re coming!”
“What if I just run back?” I quip but pull away, breathing slowly to calm down the panic attack I’ve been constantly edging since morning.
“No, you won’t, because you’re hungry, and I have lunch,” Tristan says and tales my hand.
I hate how my mind can’t take the simple joke for what it is, instead plunging right back to the two months when Gloombane starved me. How I begged him for scraps and stuffed my mouth with fish gut stew, worried he’d take it away if I didn’t eat quick enough.
I’ve never known hunger like that. It made me lose all reason and sense of propriety or decorum. Survival was all that mattered.
“Don’t—please don’t say that,” I whimper, closing my eyes. I can’t believe this is what I’ve become. If Tristan isn’t tired of me yet, he soon will be, and then at least he might not be regretful of letting me go.
He’s quick to look back. “Oh? Say what? I’m sorry, I’m not sure…”
“I just—” It takes me several seconds to take a full breath and meet his gaze. We’ve only just left the room where I’ve spent the past six weeks, but something about the low ceiling and the tight space between the walls encourages me with its coziness. “He starved me. I know you didn’t mean to— but it just comes back.”
His golden eyes are soft and warm when he takes a step back to hug me. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I promise to be more thoughtful.”
I want to kiss him.
The need for the sweet softness of his lips is so visceral I need to remind myself why I can’t relent. A shadow wielder isn’t meant to sleep with their promised for the very reason that good sex might make things confusing, resulting in rash decisions. I can see that happening.
Tristan is irresistible.
Beautiful. Chivalrous. Kind.
He is so kind it’s taking my breath away.
“Thank you. Let’s— try joining Lady.”
Tristan nods with a smile and leads me down the stairs, never letting go of my hand. I should probably consider that a more-than-friends gesture, but the gender norms in the Nightmare Realm aren’t as rigid as in mine, so I don’t pull away.
Or I just really want him holding my hand.
The library is empty as we arrive. Eerily so. Before I get to ask about it, Lady is all over me. How an animal can look both so terrifying and cute at once, I will never know.
“You wanna see one of the tricks?” Tristan asks.
I chuckle, because despite the intimidating size of the library, and all its dark corners, I feel safe with my two guard dogs. “I need to see what a good girl she’s been,” I say, scratching Lady behind one massive ear. Her tusks are thicker than my fingers, but at this point their size isn’t intimidating at all. Is this how wild cat caretakers feel when interacting with their animals?
I’m elated when Tristan pulls out a wooden horn, twisted like a mythical unicorn’s, and places it on Lady’s head. She has thick paws, and a chunky body, but when her elven daddy gives her the command, she manages to balance the prop on her forehead almost as if it’s a part of her body. I lose it when Tristan informs me she’s now like a ‘real unicorn’, but playtime is eventually over, and we venture farther.
“Do elves not like to read?” I joke as we walk the empty passageways. When Tristan gives me a confused glance, I go on, “no one’s here.”