Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 171450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 857(@200wpm)___ 686(@250wpm)___ 572(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 857(@200wpm)___ 686(@250wpm)___ 572(@300wpm)
At one point, Gen appeared on her own. “Walter is finally sleeping.” She stifled a yawn. “I left Bram upstairs, but he was concerned about you.” Gen switched places with Niamh, who all but collapsed in an opposite chair. Gen inspected the injury, running her fingers over the inflamed marks. “This is gruesome.”
“Yeah,” Kierse whispered.
“But look at you and Anne getting over your differences.”
“She has only accepted me because I’m fragile. I’m not sure this isn’t her asserting dominance.”
Graves smothered a laugh. “Well, if you have your humor back, then the healing must be working.”
Niamh looked haunted after so much healing all in one night and with the magic cuffs doubling her efforts. She and Gen’s hollowed expressions made it appear as if they hadn’t slept in three days.
“We’re a banged-up group,” Kierse said as Gen went to work on her wrists. “And with the heist tomorrow…”
“Don’t think about it,” Graves directed.
She blinked. “My absorption is up.”
“I don’t need to read you to know that you’re thinking about tomorrow.”
Kierse went silent again. He was right. There was no point trying to figure it out when she was in such rough shape. There were more pressing matters anyway.
Gen finally sat back on her heels, a sheen of sweat across her brow. “That’s as much as I have. The skin is new, but it might still be tender. There are still marks. I don’t know what they mean.”
Graves examined her wrists. There were in fact indentions from whatever language the cuffs had been in. Something ancient. Something older than the warding magic they used. How Amberdash had acquired them was beyond her comprehension for the night.
“I’ll do research later,” he said solemnly. “Tonight, it doesn’t matter.”
Kierse tentatively lifted her hand and settled it in Anne’s fur. The cat purred like it was the most normal thing in the world for Kierse to get to pet her. The only other time Kierse had attempted it, she’d had gouges the length of her forearm.
“See, you do like me,” Kierse whispered.
Anne lifted her tail and showed Kierse her butthole, then scampered off into the dark.
“Welp,” she muttered.
“Everyone needs rest. Let’s get you upstairs,” Graves said. “Can you get to your feet?”
Kierse kicked her feet sideways, fought a wave of dizziness that passed quickly, and then stood. “Night and day. Thank you. Both of you.”
Gen threw her arms around her, hugging her tight. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Didn’t exactly plan it,” Kierse said with a laugh as she tugged her best friend tight to her.
“I owe you,” Graves told Niamh.
“Put it on your tab.” She yawned and came to her feet. “Can I stay here tonight? I don’t have it in me to make it back to Brooklyn.”
“Edgar will direct you to a bedroom. You as well, Genesis.”
Gen grinned at him. “Thanks, boss.”
Graves shook his head as they disappeared from the room to presumably separate bedrooms. But the shared glances certainly made Kierse question whether that was what was going to happen.
On Graves’s arm, he helped her up the stairs to the second floor and drew her immediately into the bathroom. He turned the shower on with a flick of his hand and returned to her. With one tug, the zipper pulled free, releasing her from the confining dress. He was tender with each of her wrists as he dragged the material over her arms and left the bloody gown in a puddle on the floor.
Graves slipped his jacket from his shoulders and tugged his shirt over his head as the shower fogged up. He shucked off his boots and pants next and then guided her into the walk-in shower.
He was careful with her wrists, washing off the layers of blood and grime with gentle strokes of his hands, letting the water run red, then pink, then clear. Only then did he begin to soap her up from head to toe. His fingers dragged across her skin, checking every inch of her for another cut, another bruise, another reminder of what Jason had accomplished.
“He deserved to die,” she said quietly.
“If you hadn’t done it, I would have,” Graves said. “But slow and painful and torturous.”
“I know,” she whispered as he washed the soap from her skin.
There were no more bruises. Just the marks on her wrists from the cuffs. And still she felt every mark he’d given her on her skin like a map of his abuse. Yet she couldn’t believe he was dead. It felt like he’d come back any minute as he always had in the past.
“Why do I feel like this?” she whispered. She looked into his thunderstorm eyes and reluctantly clarified, “Conflicted.”
“About killing him?”
“About him.” She bit her lip. “I know he was terrible. I hated him with everything I was. He literally wrecked my life and helped kill my parents.”
“But…”
“But he saved me, too. He kept me safe. He made me so much of what I am.”