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)
Here comes the distance, my wolf said.
Reality was about to steal the moment. She’d need to process. That game had been primal, yes, but within the game had been her truth. She knew it. She’d know I knew it. She just had to accept it.
“Let me just grab those books,” I said, trying for cool and unaffected, but my voice was rough and my cock throbbing. Until this desperate feeling wore off, it was going to fucking ruin me. But it would ruin her, too. We were in this together.
She watched me heft the books, her eyes a little lost.
Yes, we were in this together.
I jerked my head for her to start walking.
Her movements were halting, her face flushed.
“Uhm,” she said softly, clearly trying to get herself back on track. I could feel the confusion through the bond. I couldn’t tell if that was related to her state of being, or because I hadn’t pushed intimacy a moment ago. Maybe both.
“Uh . . .” She cleared her throat and smoothed her hair. Sweat glistened on her brow.
I waited silently as we walked, also too stiff. My throbbing cock was not making movement easy.
“Do you want help? Here.” She grabbed a couple of the books, hugging them close. “Um . . . what I said just there. About the kids . . .”
Yup, here came the detached logic. She’d clearly gotten good at it with Granny, cutting off the hurt or the pain or the longing so that she could function in the terrible conditions she’d been forced to live. That mentality would need to be chipped away at slowly. Her wolf would help.
“You don’t want kids, then?” I asked, nearly nailing the light tone I was going for.
“I do. I mean—” She made an annoyed sound. “I always have, yes, but before now there was the issue with my magic and my wolf. Now I have a death sentence hanging over my head. It’s clearly not in the cards.”
“You won’t get a death sentence.”
“Right, sorry. I wasn’t supposed to mention that.”
I stopped outside of the closed door to her new living space and turned her to face me, looking her in the eye. “You will not get a death sentence. Besides the fact that I’d never let that happen, the king does not tell me to put a baby in you if he thinks there is a chance his kingdom would kill you. Stop thinking like that.”
Her pupils dilated again. Hunger flared through the bond and heat danced in her eyes. She didn’t speak, fighting the urge, clearly trying desperately to hold on to reality.
“I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that,” I backpedaled quickly, feeling her conflicted emotions raging in the bond. I needed another angle this time. “His admission gives me hope, though.”
“Hope of what?” she whispered.
Hope of winning you.
Hope of starting a family with you.
Hope of killing any fucker who ever dares touch you.
Chapter 19
Weston
Isettled on: “That you will go on to live a happy life with as many children as you want.”
It would do.
For now.
Her smile was intimate and grateful, her eyes open and hopeful. She didn’t comment, so I handed her the books, stacking them so high she could barely see over them, and opened the door while she laughed.
“Welcome to your new lodgings.” I chuckled as I took all the books so that she could go in first.
“Crap, it’s huge.”
“I know, but what do you think of the room?”
“Har-har.” She paused briefly. “Your dick is huge, though. Not sure I ever mentioned that.” She gave me a naughty, heat-soaked look.
“You didn’t have to mention it. You were wincing when I first put it in you. Want a ride?”
“Meh.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe later.”
The bond betrayed her unaffected tone, as it did mine. Another game—this one trying to pretend the other person wasn’t affecting them—equally as fun. Who would break first? I wondered.
Her quarters were nowhere near as big as mine, but still lavish for a visitor of mid- to high status, with plenty of space and all the essential furnishings.
“This is what we did to create a makeshift kitchen.”
I showed her the large boiling pot over the fire, a setup for pan frying, and a very small wood-fueled oven. Rooms in the castle weren’t really outfitted for people to do their individual cooking—we had a fully staffed kitchen for that—but Burt, I mean Sylvester, had come through. He’d rigged this up. It should work for her needs.
I put my hand on a large counter space where lady’s maids usually assembled or prepared the breakfast trays, snacks, and other comestibles. Along the back were two blocks of knives and various other gadgets Sylvester said he knew she’d want.
“I had your spices put here. The ones we had in the kitchen were restocked, and anything we didn’t have has been ordered. Most we had to order. We did have some that you didn’t, however, so I had a second rack installed so that you had everything available. If you find more you need, just let me know.”