Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Melina is everything I never knew I needed. She makes me want things I should not want. She makes me yearn for her smile, for her sweet scent, for the sound of her laughter. For the look of approval in her eyes. No other female could compare to her—Salorian, drakoni, or human.
I would rather be alone forever.
The thought guts me, though. I drop my book and curl my hands on the wooden arms of the chair, digging my claws in. I cannot seem to stop them from growing out today, no matter how many times I cut them short. My mind is not settled. My focus is destroyed. This ache inside me is never-ending, and all I want is…my mate. I want her so badly I want to scream with the pain of it. And as the hours drift past and day becomes night, I know she is avoiding me again. Despair fills me.
How can I make it better if she will not talk to me? How do I fix it? Will she even let me try?
Even as I wallow in thoughts a Salorian should never, ever have, her scent drifts in through the window. Like a madman, I leap to my feet and race toward it, scanning the grounds. Melina trudges toward the entrance of the building, weariness written all over her face.
Immediately, I stop thinking of myself. My poor mate needs me. She is exhausted. No doubt she will be hungry, too. I have to take care of her. I must. Racing out of the room, I sprint for the kitchens. "A plate for your mistress," I bark the moment I burst through the doors, causing the servants to jump in fear. Wincing at their reaction and the way they scramble to obey, I try again. "Please. Thank you. I'm sorry to frighten you. I should like a few things for Melina to eat. She has been at the clinic all day and she is tired."
I sound like a simpering fool to my ears, and I can just imagine the mockery that would ring through the heads of the other Salorians back home. Weak, they would chide me. Weak fool. Look at you, dancing like a puppet, all to please a human. Worthless waste.
But they are not here, and my head does not ring with their reproach. Instead, the servants flash me a few understanding looks, and a tray of food and drink is readied quickly. The woman hands it to me and gives me a knowing look. "I saved a piece of dessert for her and you both," she confesses shyly. "I know you like your sweets, my lord."
Startled, I gaze down at the tray. Sure enough, two wedges of peach pie are tucked neatly on the side. It might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Someone thought of me, of my likes, just because. Not because they hate me or are terrified of me, just because they wanted to be kind. "I…thank you," I manage to choke out. "Very appreciated."
I flee before I can make a bigger fool of myself.
When I head into the apartment I share with Melina, she's seated on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumped. She looks so tired and defeated that it gives me physical pain. My defiant, gorgeous human cannot be defeated. She's too proud, too clever, too resilient. Have I done this to her? My gut clenches.
"Melina," I breathe, and the tray rattles with dishes as I surge toward her.
She looks up in surprise. "Oh." Her hand is trembling as she rubs her brow. "I…Azar…I know we need to talk, but I'm so tired—"
"Not right now," I say swiftly, stepping in before she can finish that statement. "You need to relax. You should eat some food and drink some water, and I will help you with a quick bath to refresh you. Then we will tuck you into bed and you will sleep. We will discuss how wrong I have been later."
She just stares.
I set the tray down next to the bed, flicking the legs out like I see the staff do. It makes a neat little table, and I hold a cold biscuit stuffed with meat out to my mate. "Eat this." When she takes the food from my hand, I drop to my knees and start unlacing her boots. She always says her feet hurt at the end of a day because the clinic is so busy that she doesn't have time to sit. I can help with her feet.
"Azar—"
"No," I say sharply. "Just eat. I might not be able to rule the city in the way you think is acceptable. I might not win anyone over as a friend. But I know how to tend to my mate, and I know your feet hurt. Let me take care of you."