Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Ache.
“Hard to manage that with no males around,” Lowell said. “But I heard your coven has some kind of arrangement with the warlocks of Umber.”
“Yes, they visit each season to procreate.” Maybe. The last few mating seasons had proved so lackluster and unfruitful that some witches wanted it canceled.
Her own fumblings with warlocks had disappointed her. None had moved her to try intercourse for the first time. Nope, not for me. Not until I’m ready to get offspring out of it.
Lowell already affected her more than any of those males had.
She supposed if the warlocks didn’t make their pilgrimage this year, she could journey to their stronghold and find a father for her child. The longing in her heart couldn’t be ignored for much longer. Despite the coming Accession, it might be time. “I’ll probably take the plunge this year.”
“Funny way of putting it. I was just thinking that process sounded…spawn-y. Makes me picture the salmon fighting currents in Craigdúr’s streams.”
She glared. “From what I’ve heard about cohabitation, it sounds like a lot of work to me.” So why did she dream of waking next to a mate? Sharing her home with one?
“With the wrong bloke, aye. And those are the ones you hear of—no’ of the steady ones quietly making females purr with delight.”
Purring? Speaking of which, she glanced around for Nettle, but the cat had disappeared. She wouldn’t have gone far in this blustery weather. “Doesn’t your Instinct force you to treat mates well?”
He laughed warmly. “Is that what they’re teaching these days in species studies?”
She raised her brows for an explanation. “Enlighten me.”
“The Instinct is no force, just an inner voice that guides us to what is best for us and for our pack.”
“Some in my classes think it’s a glorified subconscious.”
“More animalistic, I reckon.”
That made sense. The first Lykae had been a human in Gaia, bitten by a maddened wolf. The male had risen from the dead as an immortal with superhuman strength, a contagious bite, and an inner wolf. Lykae “humanity” was only a thin veneer over a lethal beast.
“What about you?” she asked. “Any kids?”
“I canna have pups with any but my mate.”
“And you could go centuries without finding her.” Or millennia. “How old are you anyway?”
“Thirty-eight and counting.”
“You must’ve just turned fully immortal.”
“Aye. Few years ago. You?”
She sipped again. “A little over a century.”
“You’ve beaten me out in age and beauty, lass.” His charisma simmered like a concoction over an eternal heat source.
Resist it! “You’re drinking slow.”
“Doona want our date to end. Hankering to make it last.”
“Date?” She drew herself up, assuming a businesslike demeanor. “This is diplomacy, wolf.”
“Aye. Highlander diplomacy. Step one: whiskey.” He winked. Fucking winked at her.
She found her lips curling. Damn him. “You’re impossible.”
Lowell leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, eyes half lidded. “And yet,” he murmured, “you’re still sitting here.”
Meera didn’t answer. The words she wanted to say—because I’m so tired of being alone—lodged behind her teeth.
Instead, she met his gaze, held it, and finished her drink. The whiskey flamed down her throat, sweet and final.
But when she lowered her glass, he smoothly repoured, watching her like a man memorizing a sin he meant to commit again.
Chapter 18
Lowell
Gods, the witch is a comely thing.
His gaze roamed over her, from her sensual smile to her bonnie brown eyes to her thick black mane. He craved to loosen her hair so that it spilled over a pillow as he pounded between her soft thighs. He pictured her full breasts bouncing—
“Right then,” she interrupted his thought, sharp as a snapped wand. “Let’s brainstorm. You start.”
Huh? He dragged his focus from her mouthwatering chest. “Ah, aye. Been thinking we’ve got to get your leader and mine to meet again.”
Meera arched a winged brow. “Easier said. I’ve never seen King Thane so cold. He hates Ditch, doesn’t he?”
“He…harbors strong feelings about her,” Lowell said carefully. “But cold? I thought he handled it rather well with her. Why would she be so antagonistic to him?”
Meera’s tone went defensive. “Maybe Ditch should have smiled more? We are enemies. She treated him as one.”
“That’s what I’m telling you—we doona have to be enemies.”
“Yet here our factions are.” She swirled her whiskey, the liquid catching the firelight. “From what I can tell over these last few days working with Ditch, she truly wants power. Can Thane concede an inch?”
“Rewarding thefts with concessions?” He shook his head. “He’d lose the pack’s faith and signal a weakness to them.” They would understand if he announced that his mate was a witch—fate is never wrong—but Thane had kept her connection secret, lest word get back to Ditch. “Does your coven need food so badly? Thane has no interest in your people starving. Mayhap we can help.”
“A few weeks ago, I would have said we were fine. But lately the market’s been bare. I intend to find out more.”