Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“I was dreading this,” Malachi said beside me, his troubles momentarily forgotten. “But she is remarkable.”
“She is,” I agreed. Though I didn’t forget my troubles. I couldn’t.
For months, there’d been this hole in my chest. A hole I couldn’t explain, so I couldn’t fix it. Nothing I’d tried had helped. More and more, I just wanted to stab things.
The dance continued, but I didn’t let myself watch. I kept my gaze on everyone else. Just in case.
Finally, Bronwyn completed another flawless turn and glided directly into King Sebastian’s waiting arms. The music tapered to an end.
The dragon queen and her sisters—all of whom crowded within their stone–erupted in applause.
King Sebastian smiled. A genuine one. Rare enough that the applause faltered for half a beat.
Malachi huffed a quiet laugh. “Marriage has made him soft.”
“Yes.” But then, marriage made every man soft. One of the many reasons I had no interest.
My purpose was protection. Malachi’s. Adding a firebrand to the mix just seemed like a recipe for trouble. Proof: the kraken king hadn’t looked from his wife once. Not during the ceremony. Not during the feast that had preceded the dance. Certainly not now.
My job depended on my focus.
Malachi watched the new king and queen for another moment before turning away. “It’s done.” He motioned to the doorway between worlds. “Let’s move on to our next problem.”
There was always another problem.
We slipped through the traveling stone, returning to a fortress very few knew existed.
“And what problem is that?” I finally asked, now that no prying ears were around.
“The stories.” Anger brewed in his voice. “The human author.”
Right. The woman who’d spent years convincing millions of humans that shifters were tragic heroes and berserkers were monsters.
Malachi’s expression darkened. “She’s made our enemies fashionable.”
Yes. I’d read her books, and they were indeed a problem. In fact, the void had come as soon as I’d dove into the first story. “How would you like me to handle this?” Pay her off? Buy her publisher? Threaten her with a lawsuit for some reason or another?
“You’ll retrieve her.”
Retrieve. A pleasant word for abduction. “Very well. When?”
“Immediately.”
Fine. I ran through several scenarios sure to get the job done.
Humans frightened so easily. Authors, according to rumor, even more so. But if I went in too softly, she wouldn’t understand the magnitude of her problem.
“Any special instructions?” I asked.
“Yes.” The king’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t remotely a smile. “Make sure she understands I am not pleased.” A pause. “And Bane?”
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you stared at her author photo.”
I barely stopped my wince. Okay, yeah. Had I done a double take and stared a little too hard? Sure. But who wouldn’t? She was a beautiful woman with a shockingly feral glint in her eyes, and I’d imagined–in great detail–things I could do to inspire certain scenes. But that meant nothing. Less than nothing.
“I will fetch her for you, majesty. There will be no problems, you have my word.”