Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
A lesson he’d learned well. Without a backup, you might not live long enough to regret its lack. The very reason he’d enslaved the trolls. With Red, however, the backup—ignoring her presence—failed him at every turn. He remained aware of her minutest action, some hidden part of him weaving long-lost dreams with new found desires. A danger in a variety of ways.
He knew better than to crave a bed partner of his own. Especially an unpaid one. Especially this unpaid one. Already he’d begun to anticipate—or fear—her loss. Fear was an enemy more treacherous than Cookie, more devious than Kaysar. Fear was the downfall of Micah’s ability to subdue and control beasts.
“Mmm.” With a throaty voice, Vee told him, “The water feels so good against my bare skin, Micah. Want to feel it?”
The water or her golden skin?
No. No! He needed to get out of here before he acted how he shouldn’t. “There’s something I must do. I’ve stationed men outside. You’re safe here.”
“Wait. What? You can’t be serious.”
Micah drew in a deep breath, but he couldn’t escape Red’s incredible scent. “I’ll return shortly.”
“You can’t leave—”
He flittered to the underground tunnels. The cavern filled with his trolls. His path to victory against the Unhinged Ones. Torches lined the walls, casting golden light over the endless sea of motionless prisoners chained by his will. They stood shoulder to shoulder. Packed inside like chattel. They did not age. They did not doze. They did nothing but think.
Today, they were not alone. Norok stood upon an overhead platform, peering down upon the masses.
“What are you doing here?” Micah asked after transporting to his side.
His friend shrugged. “The end of the truce looms. I think I came to remind myself that we will win our war with Kaysar. With the trolls, we cannot lose.”
Micah rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “There’s no need to worry. The clock counts down, the ambush planned.”
Norok patted his hand in solidarity. “That, I know. I fear Kaysar and Cookie finding and killing our trolls before we can use them.”
“The royals could send hundreds of spies, oracles and troops and they would not solve the tunnel mazes.”
The underground world—and that was exactly what it was, a whole other world hidden beneath Astaria—was created long ago and wound through court after court. But no fae could flitter where they hadn’t visited previously, so no one was able to materialize here.
“We will win,” Norok said, confidence making his voice as hard as granite. “We’ve worked so hard, come so far. We’ll stop at nothing.” He paused. “The girl—”
“Is still not up for discussion.” A statement and command, rolled into one.
Still, Norok persisted. “Will she alter your plans for the future?”
That, he could happily share. “She will not.” Nothing would.
“Are you certain? I know the opposite sex better than I know my own. Trust me when I say your little Red is pure trouble.”
Oh, she was trouble indeed, and Micah needed to deal with her. Hissing at those who angered her. Issuing insults to others left and right. Eating other people’s food. Only with Micah did she ever seem to relax.
Suddenly, he longed to see her as she’d been in his hallucinations. Smiling. Dancing. Carefree. Perhaps he could.
He massaged the back of his neck, unable to halt his next words. “Spread the word. Tomorrow I declare a Feast of Remembering.” A time Dusklanders wiped any obstacles from their minds and reminded themselves that they were fae, and they could do anything. “A reprieve is overdue.”
This particular festival occurred only at the king’s command. Meaning any moment, for whatever reason he decided. In the past, Micah had declared a Feast of Remembering when he’d hoped to encourage his people. This time, his people were far from his mind. He wasn’t sure what prompted his actions.
Liar! His own conscience issued the accusation and a verdict of guilty.
Desire for Red had raged in his blood, and there was no denying it. To strip her when she rolled on top of him in bed. To touch and to taste. To hear her cries of passion in his ears. An impossibility.
Despite the cost to his sanity, he treated her with the respect and honor due to a guest under his personal protection. No unrequested contact. No—or rather, few—lingering glances. No suggestive or leading comments.
In the beginning, she had reminded him of a feral cat. Distrustful, jumpy and highly defensive. When perceived insults or threats were delivered, her claws came out. Strain emanated from her most days. Most hours, really. But there were minutes when he could almost believe she desired him, too. And today’s softening...
He had to turn away from his second-in-command to adjust himself. What had changed for Red? Did it matter right now? It happened. Without obstacles...what would he want from her? What would he do?