Total pages in book: 254
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Except that thought led me to another, and then another, and I turned to Sienna, remembering what I was pretty sure I’d overheard.
“Question. Did Matti actually talk to Henri before we drove here?” I whispered, trying not to sound suspicious but pretty much failing.
Her nose wrinkled. “Huh?”
“I swear Henri asked what we were doing here, and Matti said something sarcastic about him not answering his calls,” I explained. “He said he was going to text him, but….”
Her face darkened, eyes getting squinty the longer she sat there. She plucked at the spaghetti-strap of her pale-yellow top—a color I could never pull off, but she could perfectly. “He never actually said he spoke to him, did he?”
We looked at each other.
“I’m going to kill him,” I warned her.
And my friend nodded like the person I wanted to murder wasn’t the love of her life. “I’ll help you.”
We both turned to glare at Matti, who must have sensed it from the way his attention shot over to us, and he waved like he’d never done a wrong thing in his life.
That was such a Matti thing to do if he was desperate, and I had been pretty desperate the night I’d showed up to their apartment asking for help. I wasn’t really going to kill him, but I might get Sienna to twist his nipple for me.
In the meantime, we sat there munching on jerky from a silicone sandwich bag in my fanny pack, and I released some deep breaths, my skin feeling kind of tickly, my lungs sucking up the fresh air like they had been deprived all their lives. The magic that lived in my gut stirred in response, a ball of squiggly warmth.
What was it about here? I had traveled so much over the years, and while some places had wonderful vibes and traces of magic, no other place had ever felt like this one. Not even close.
I peeked at her, but Sienna seemed totally unfazed. Even a little bored. What was she staring at?
She answered my question a second later. “If that satyr looks over here again, I’m going to get up and go have a calm conversation with her about how rude she’s being.”
That got me to beam. “You’re so scary, but what she needs to worry about is my attack hound right here. Did you see him?”
Sienna patted the furry butt cheek closest to her. “I saw him all right. The boy needs a steak dinner for that.”
The good boy’s ears twitched, but he still didn’t break eye contact with Agnes, even as he said “Yes” in my head.
Yes, he agreed he was a good boy and he needed steak. He was always listening.
I smacked his other butt cheek for good measure, just as the adult satyr turned to look over again real quick.
I didn’t say a word, and Sienna pressed her lips together tight, smelling whatever emotion the woman was releasing. Wariness, more than likely. Possibly even a little bit of fear; herbivores were like that, from what I’d been told. I palmed my bracelet. If she was like this now, what would it be like if I took it off? Shiloh had been fine, more than fine, but….
A warm hand slipped into mine, and my best friend since the age of fifteen gave it a squeeze. “I love you, Nina. I’m glad we made it, and I hope things work out.”
I let go of her hand and threw my arm around her, my head going to her shoulder. Somehow, she planted a kiss on my temple. “I love you too,” I told her. “Thank you for coming with us.”
Loud sighs came from the group, and we watched the woman put a hand on Shiloh’s shoulder before leading him down a path that curved around the right side of the big building. The boy’s head was down, his shoulders slumped, and I really didn’t think I was imagining his hooves dragging behind him. The man stayed talking to Henri for a minute longer before they nodded in agreement over something. Henri dropped into a crouch and leaned in close to Pascal, cupping the back of the boy’s head with his hand. He said something that had the little boy gesturing with his hands before nodding as well.
Then the werewolf man pressed his cheek to the top of Pascal’s head, and the little boy tucked himself into his neck and gave Henri a hug. With a scruff to his hair, Henri stood and gave him an expression that was totally a chastising one. The boy and the other man turned and headed down another path, but I watched as Pascal paused, looked over, and gave me a wave before continuing his march. His maybe-dad glanced over as well, in the middle of a frown. He lifted his hand briefly, mouthed what I thought was “thank you,” and kept going too.