Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
A million questions unfolded like origami in my mind.
What is this ship?
Where are we going?
Why did you do this wondrous thing and bring me with you?
But the answers weren’t needed as much as the kiss of such warm beauty. I’d been denied the outdoors for so long that the slaps of water and the breeze as its fingers tangled in my hair was almost euphoric.
“That’s the first time you’ve looked weightless and not drowning beneath horror since we met.”
I jolted as Elder turned to face me.
“I like that look.”
I had no snarky comeback. No inner comment. His gaze and the sublime view behind him mesmerized me. Gripping the balcony rail with my unbroken hand, I risked looking directly down at the churning sea froth as the sleek silver lines of his ship cut like a sword through the water.
“I wouldn’t get any ideas of jumping overboard if I were you. I’d be pretty pissed if you killed yourself after everything I’ve done to keep you alive.”
My breathing stopped.
He knew about my desire to die? Did he plan to use that weakness against me or did he understand why I’d entertained such thoughts?
Turning on his heel, he murmured, “Come. The balcony is yours; you can stand on it whenever you want. I’ll show you around, then I have work to return to.”
I trailed behind him.
While we’d admired the ocean, a servant had entered and vanished, leaving in his or her wake a tray full of soft noodles, fluffy rice, and steaming potato soup. A carbohydrate avoider’s nightmare, but to my suddenly greedy stomach, it was an oasis of delicacies.
“You’re only allowed soft food for now, but if you have a craving for something else, let the staff know, and Michaels will approve or deny.”
His eyes fell to my hands.
Between my fingers poked the butterfly gift he’d given me.
His forehead furrowed. “What the—”
Before I could hide my bloody dollar, he’d stolen it once again. His fingers swift and stealthy.
“This isn’t sanitary. Why the hell do you still have it?”
I balled my fists.
Because it was a gift.
Elder shook his head slightly. “You want to keep it?”
My eyes locked on the dirty money. I desperately wanted to nod. But then he’d win. When he’d talked to me about first times back at Alrik’s and created magic in my blood, making me want those things, he’d done his best to make me answer him.
And I did. I’d replied.
I wouldn’t do it again…not when I didn’t know what he ultimately wanted.
“Well, you can’t have it.” With a vicious look, he pinched the note between both hands and tore it down the middle.
My heart blazed with frustrated flames. But I didn’t let him see—didn’t let on that the destruction of something worthless to him but so valuable to me was so damn easy and that terrified me.
His voice fell dark and low. “I told you you are worth more than pennies, yet you cling to a dollar as if it’s the sum of your value.” He tore the note into quarters with a sneer. “Blood stains everything these days. Even wealth.”
My gaze followed the torn pieces as they fluttered to the floor.
“Was it the money you valued or the butterfly? It can’t have been the scribbled note.” He tilted his head. “I don’t understand you, silent one, but I will.” His hand lashed out, cupping my jaw. I froze as his thumb traced the bruises on my chin, his eyes lingering on my mouth.
“If it’s the money, I’ll give you a hundred more.”
I exhaled in disgust, curling my lip.
Will that make you feel better? Instead of treating me like a slave, you’ll buy me like a whore?
His eyes narrowed. “It’s not about the money. Is it?”
I tore my jaw from his hold even as his fingers loosened to let me go.
“If it’s the gift…” He cleared his throat. “If it’s the butterfly I folded, I can give you another.”
My heart plopped onto the pillow-laden bed. How did this man understand me when I’d never spoken a word to him?
He held my gaze as he reached into his jeans pocket, pulled out a money clip, and peeled off a note.
Swallowing was hard enough with a stitched tongue, but as his fingers tucked away the clip and stroked a fresh ten-dollar American bill, I struggled even more.
“I’ll allow the silent treatment for a little longer, Pimlico, but fair warning…it will get old very fast.” His face tightened. “Especially when I expect answers to questions that are suitable enough for polite conversation.”
I bristled.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the way he pinched the money and folded creases in preparation for whatever bewitchment he would create. The thought of another gift pacified me enough that I didn’t bother with the broken pieces on the carpet nor sniff in indignation at his threat.