Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
She brought up her phone. The screen illuminated the tattered interior of her car. She hadn’t bothered to upgrade because she didn’t use the car often. Anytime she needed to go somewhere in a professional capacity, swanky transportation was arranged.
Still, driving a beater like this usually meant she didn’t plan to stay in a place for long. And now…she wanted to. She didn’t know if she could, given her unpredictable life, and she was a target—always had been—but if she had the choice…
She pulled up Tristan’s name…but then hesitated before tapping to call. Questions from earlier rolled around in her head. How had he known what her magic could do? Other than him, only Momar seemed knowledgeable in this lost art. That was a startling coincidence.
And why had he sounded so damn convincing when yelling her name on the street? So emotionally bereft.
Her heart beat a little quicker. The last mattered the most, she realized. Her reaction to it made her sweat. Made her crave. Not sexually—or not only sexually—but intimately. She wanted a connection as raw as he had sounded. As intense.
Or did she?
Her whole body trembled now, edges of panic in her blood. Anxiety. Worry. Above all…fear.
Did she?
Could she?
She put down the phone and started up the car. The questions kept coming, but really, they all amounted to the same thing.
Could she?
Could she trust? Could she let down her guard? Would that put her in danger? More danger, really.
Would it be the death of her, leaving Sebastian to fend for himself? Or worse, using her against him? Against Jessie and the gang?
Her whole body shook now, but she drove on, taking each turn as her heart sped up. The physical reaction, the shaking and sweating and terror, nearly made her turn the car around. The phone sat idly in the cup holder.
She parked beside the curb and turned off her lights. The house lay just up the way, with the spacious yard and plentiful shadows. She snuck closer, head down, phone now tucked in her back pocket. A few lights burned, the shades open.
She’d spied on him before, but she’d always advertised her energy. He could see it—another question she needed answering. So many questions wrapped up in this mysterious gargoyle-monster, which was fun until it became real. Then it became dangerous.
Now, however, she knew how to pull her energy into herself. How to not only disguise it but make it blend into her surroundings. He’d set her on a path to make her better. Was it to train her up in relative safety and then trade her to Momar?
Her thoughts turned dark as she moved around the house, peering into the windows. The TV was on, but he wasn’t relaxing on the couch, watching it. Nor was he in the kitchen, even though an electric kettle was steaming on the counter. His bedroom was dark.
She moved silently around a bush and then stepped in toward the pole holding up a clothesline so she could check out the dining area, the last lit room. She put her hand against the wood to lean, the view partially obscured.
Her hand was ripped down and her body swung around. Her back hit the wood as her other hand was wrenched behind her. She didn’t even have time to scream before a large hand was squeezing her throat. She struggled to get at her magic when the smell hit her, a delicious, woody, amber scent.
A relieved breath left her as Tristan leaned into her, his lips up against the shell of her ear, his other hand still clasping her wrists behind the wooden pole.
“It is very dangerous to sneak around my home without me knowing who you are, little monster. Those who try are never seen again.” His lips trailed down the shell of her ear, making her shiver. “Why are you trembling?” He kissed her cheek and then dragged his lips down to her neck. “Show me your energy so I know what’s wrong.”
“How did you know?” she asked him, barely able to get the words out of her constricted throat. Despite her earlier thoughts and fear about his motivations, her body was ablaze at the contact and especially the treatment. She needed roughness to counteract the aching vulnerability and unease. “How did you know about my energy magic?”
“I told you.” He released her throat. Reaching above them, he yanked the clothesline free and wrapped it around her wrists with quick, practiced efficiency.
In fact, this whole setup seemed to be exactly for this purpose. Lure people to this area—to this trap—and secure them. Then do as he pleased.
Another delicious shiver traveled her length.
“I can see it. Usually.” He sucked on the skin over her hammering pulse. “Let me see it.”
“No, I mean”—she angled her head away so he could kiss the fevered skin, trailing kisses down her neck to her exposed collarbone—“how did you know it was something more?”