Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I cannot leave her again.
Luminoura’s thoughts settle down, touching mine one more time before she drifts back to sleep, and then my focus is wholly on my mate, on Rachel, and the worried, sad drift of her thoughts.
I home in on where I left her, and the dwelling that was there is gone now. Confused, I circle around it twice before picking up her scent trail. It winds through several of the abandoned dwellings before I find one that has all the doors and windows shut tight. Rachel’s scent comes from within, though. I want to tear the roof off of the small dwelling and pull her out, and I send her that thought.
Don’t you fucking dare, comes the reply. Just leave me alone.
She is…mad at me? But why?
I thump to the ground with a hard, graceless, distracted landing. My temper flares. Why is she mad at me? She is the betrayer! But I am also frustrated—I want to pull her close, to bury my face in her hair and feel her soft body clenching under mine. I want to breathe in her scent and lose myself in her. That need takes precedence over any sort of anger or frustration, and I shift to my two-legged form and approach the strange dwelling. A house, I pick out from her thoughts. I stare at the door, trying to figure out how to open it, and when the knob doesn’t work, I brace my shoulder against the door and push until the wood splinters and caves.
The door falls to the ground and I stumble inside the house.
“Damn it, Jurik. I said leave me alone.” My mate gets to her feet, a baseball bat in one hand and a strange, shiny round thing acting as a shield—a garbage can lid. She holds both and her cheeks are wet, her eyes red with weeping, and her scent is full of emotions. Anger, frustration, fear, sorrow.
I made her feel those.
I croon low in my throat, even as I hold my hand out and approach. Why are you sad?
“Why am I sad? You left me!” She gestures at her surroundings. “How am I supposed to get home?”
It is more than just that, though. I can feel it in her mind. She hurts because this bond between us is supposed to be more. I pursued her relentlessly, and then the moment I had her body, I cast her away.
She thinks she is disappointing to me. That she is lacking somehow.
That I do not want her, as her parents did not want her.
I press my thoughts against hers, not caring if I overwhelm her or not. I still want you, even though I do not trust you. It wounds me that you are cruel like this. I dreamed of taking her as a mate, but I never imagined to find this in her head. Even now, my anger and disillusionment threatens to let the madness creep back in.
Her bewilderment drifts through my mind, chasing the dissonance away. “What are you talking about?”
The Salorian!
“The who?” She blinks up at me, and shakes her head again. “If you don’t want to be with me, just say so. It won’t surprise me. Just, enough with the games.”
Reactions flitter through her mind. Of her hurt and disappointment that I would turn away from her. In her mind, this must surely be why I left. I push against her thoughts, looking for lies. I see none. She truly has no idea what I speak of.
Curious, I move closer to her, reaching a hand out to touch her face. Shame and frustration war through me. I have hurt her and she does not understand why. I need to show her.
“What are you doing?” she asks warily, stepping back. She holds her baseball bat aloft, as if a warning to me.
I need to go deeper into your thoughts, I tell her even as I brush my fingertips over her scarred brow. Will you let me?
I expect her to be angry at me. To push back. After all, in her eyes, I have not been kind to her. To my surprise, she closes her eyes and waits patiently under my touch, giving herself to me.
Trusting me.
I want to crush her to my chest and fill my mind with apologies. I am not worthy of such a response, and it humbles me. Never again will I doubt her. I gently tug her against me, pulling the shield from its makeshift harness on her shortened arm and tossing it to the ground. She drops the bat and steps into my arms, and I hold her tight.
I do not have to hold her to my chest to read her thoughts; I just want to. I pull her close, breathing in her scent, reveling in how it has changed with the addition of my fires. She smells spicy now, her skin flushed with my heat.