Total pages in book: 182
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry this happened to you,” I murmured, my heart hurting for him.
He reached out, bracing his hand against his wardrobe. “Thank you for saying that.”
Driven by impulse, I leaned forward and placed a kiss between his shoulder blades, feeling more connected with him in that moment than at any point on our journey. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want to ruin it by overthinking. Leaning away again, I dropped my hand and turned for his bathroom. Might as well start my snoop by investigating his hygiene.
Chapter 15
Weston
Dressed causally and sitting in my favorite chair in my living room, I held my book up as though reading it but instead watched my little wolf systematically move through my space. She’d been at it for an hour, reorganizing my washing kit and then my clothes, lining everything up perfectly so that things were easy to find. She wasn’t so much snooping as setting everything to rights.
I’d never before left a lover in my quarters unsupervised. I didn’t let women touch my things, let alone go through them. I’d thought this would be a lesson in humility, my secret spaces opened to investigation. Fair was fair, though, and I had planned to endure it.
Surprisingly, I hadn’t had a single twinge of unease, not even when I stepped out to delay dinner so that she could finish her investigation without interruption. Organizing things seemed to put her mind at ease. She wasn’t a person who liked to be idle. Not for long, anyway. Maybe she just didn’t know what rest and relaxation felt like. As an alpha, I appreciated that. I never had much free time. It was good that she wouldn’t expect it or want it, even.
More importantly, though, watching her leave her mark on my private sanctuary felt right. I wanted her touch on my things, her scent lingering in the air. I wanted anyone who entered to know she belonged here with me, that her intimate living quarters were also mine. The sight of it, the act of inviting her in, had peace blooming within me. My home felt more serene with her in it.
“You’ve never lit any of these candles.” She surveyed the candelabra on top of a squat bookcase, the books in it either purchased because they were my very favorite or on loan from the castle’s extensive library. “Why have candles if you don’t light them?”
“Decoration. They look nice.”
She gave me a flat look. “They look nicer when they’re burning.”
She dropped down to her knees to scan the titles, and I studied the gentle curve of her neck, her hair pulled away and piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She was such a delicate-looking thing.
Her size and the raging power within her made her unbearably fast, though. The king himself had commented on it after seeing her in the library. He’d never seen someone move so quickly: there one minute and out the door in the next. He’d admitted to being stunned, hit in the head with a book that he hadn’t realized she’d thrown. He’d even tried the move she’d performed sliding down the stairs. He laughed as he relayed falling flat on his face.
“She would be a valuable addition to this kingdom,” the king had said earlier in the day. “She has so much potential. This whole Granny mess is damned unfortunate.”
He had no idea.
Aurelia leaned forward toward the books.
“No way! You have a copy of this?” She held out one of my favorites before leafing through the pages.
Usually, I’d tell a woman to put one of my treasured tomes down. She wasn’t just “a woman,” though. She was the woman. Mine. I would never think to spoil her joy.
“I loved this one,” she exclaimed. “So exciting, and the hero? I swooned.” She put it back and picked up another. “I didn’t love this one so much, though. Kinda, well, boring.”
“That one is a loan from the library. I haven’t read it yet.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you from a boring time.” She flashed a smile at me and put it back before touching a few more with the tip of her finger. Then she got up.
“You’re not going to organize them?”
She shook her head, heading to my desk. “You have it the way you want it.”
I furrowed my brow as I smiled. “How do you figure?”
“The really nice, shiny ones are a little removed from the run-of-the-mill, hard-used titles. The others are in between. You have it set up for what you love, what you want to read next, and what you’ll get to, right?” She glanced up with pencils in hand, ready to put them in a new place.
“Right. But they aren’t in alphabetical order.”
“Cut me some slack, Weston. I’m not that anal.”
But she was that anal. She was exactly that anal. She couldn’t stop herself from lining things up perfectly—everything in its place at all times. I’d noticed it in her cottage and in her workspace, everywhere except the bedroom . . . where chaos reigned.