Wicked Ties (The Tether #2) Read Online Shanora Williams

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: The Tether Series by Shanora Williams
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Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
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Standing again, I cup the back of her head and steal another kiss. I could go on forever, take her in every single way, but this is enough…for now.

A sigh breaks free as she kisses me back, and then we shower (seriously this time). I’ve never showered with a woman before, but it’s like we’ve done it many times together. It comes naturally with the way we wash, rinse, and steal kisses in between.

I like it and I want more moments just like this. And we’ll have them as soon as I figure out how to kill Decius.

Chapter 16

WILLOW

After the shower, we lie in my bed, smelling of Native’s coconut and vanilla soap. The apartment is quiet at this hour, several minutes past midnight. There are no cars driving by or noisy neighbors stomping above. The heat pours out of the vents, giving the room a comforting warmth.

I curl into Caz’s body, the left side of my face resting on his chest as he lies flat on his back on the bed. One hand is tucked behind his head, the other wrapped around me.

He’s been quiet since the shower. I wish I could hear his thoughts right now. It feels weird not hearing them for so long while being with him. Now I can understand why some consider the Tether a gift. In moments like this, it would come in handy to read him, figure out what’s truly bothering him, because I’m sure if I don’t ask, he won’t tell me. But I would bet a hundred bucks that most of what has his mind tied up involves Decius.

I reach over Caz for my phone on the nightstand and click the Safari app, typing in the words cold tether and allowing the results to load. I doubt I’ll find anything, seeing as I’ve done this before, but it’s worth another shot.

“What the hell is that thing?” Caz asks, focused on my phone.

“Remember that cellphone I kept asking you about in Vakeeli?”

“That’s what that is?” He makes a noise of disapproval. “How are there so many words on it? And why is the screen so large?”

“Right now, I’m on the internet.”

“The inter-what?”

I laugh. “Okay, look.” I scroll through the phone, explaining how it all works. He’s surprised, even more so when I open Instagram and scroll through images of people he’s never seen before.

“And people voluntarily post these videos and images of themselves? For anyone in the world to see?”

“Yep.”

He shakes his head, blinking several times. “That’s absurd. Why put so much of yourselves out there? You’re revealing all your weaknesses.”

I shrug. “Sometimes in this world, people enjoy seeing others’ weaknesses because they can relate to them. It makes us realize we’re all human, and that we all make mistakes or have our bad days.”

He takes a moment to digest that. “Seems a bit excessive. You can browse for whatever you want on that thing?” He scoffs. “If I were you, I’d get rid of it.”

I fight a laugh. “I’m not getting rid of my phone, Caz.”

“Well, you won’t be seeing me with one of those things.” He straightens in the bed, bringing me back to his chest and burying his nose in my hair. A pleasing warmth swims through me, and I can’t fight my smile. I love when he does that—holds me close, nuzzles his nose everywhere.

“I want to ask you something.” I shut the screen of my phone off and return it to the nightstand.

“What’s that?”

“When we were on the way to the portal, I saw…flashbacks of certain events.” I pause, and he tenses beneath me. “They were of you and your mother. And some men on horses, chasing both of you.”

He’s still tense, and his breathing is now shallow. As badly as I want to look at him, I don’t. I want him to process what I’m saying.

“What of it?” he finally asks.

I lift my head, eyeing him. “I didn’t know that happened to you.”

“Of course, you didn’t because I never told you. Or anyone for that matter,” he returns rapidly. Then he softens it with, “I just don’t like talking about it.”

“So you bottle those memories in?” I ask in a low voice.

He’s quiet, but I don’t miss the way his jaw pulses.

I sit up fully to look at him. He’s staring up at the ceiling fan, purposely avoiding my eyes. “Caz, look at me.”

He doesn’t, so I reach for his face, forcing his eyes on mine. They shine beneath the slits of moonlight. “Tell me what happened with your mom.”

“Willow, not right now. Please.”

“I want to know.”

“Why right now? We’ve barely even escaped those awful memories. You saw them? They’re fucking devastating, Willow. Why would I want to relive that?”

“I only saw pieces of the man hurting you. I didn’t see everything.”

Briskly, he sits up and turns his back to me. Propping his elbows on his knees, he drops his head and drags his palms over the length of his face. I watch him a moment as the moonlight highlights his creamy skin, contouring the curves and muscles. I scoot to the edge of the bed next to him, and when he meets my eyes, they sparkle, but not with any sort of happiness. They sparkle with sorrow.


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