Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 141532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Before she could reply, Sevastyan had turned away to stride back in the direction of the den. She shook her head and wrapped her arms around her waist. She didn’t like the feeling of being shut out. It hurt. Her family had been so close and loving. She couldn’t settle for less than what she’d grown up with.
She detoured long enough to pull her grandfather’s journal out of the drawer where they kept it. They’d both read through it and couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary, but it was the only thing they had that might tell them what her grandfather had kept.
Her grandfather, by turns, could be short and to the point, or poetic or detailing some place he’d seen that he thought they all had to go because it was so cool. Like Ania, he liked to doodle. Each entry had a drawing beside or around it. He actually was quite good at drawing cartoon characters and animals, but frankly sucked at any human or plants or trees. They often laughed together over his progressively worse drawings.
She remembered sitting with him for hours as a child, paper on the floor, brushes and paints scattered between the two of them, checking each other’s artwork and giving advice. He always listened to her as if every word she spoke was gold. Out of politeness, she’d done the same for him, although his suggestions were outrageous and made her giggle.
Tears burned again. She missed her grandparents and parents. She missed that close connection she’d had with them. She felt lonely and sad.
She caught up a blanket and headed toward the kitchen. Two shifters were there. She recognized Vikenti and smiled at him. He was always nice to her. The other one was named Josue. She’d met him only once, but had seen him a couple of times outside with the others patrolling and once in the house drinking coffee. She sent him a tentative smile as well.
Both men rose when she walked in. She wiggled her fingers indicating for them to sit. “Just heading outside to sit under the stars, Vikenti,” she said. “I need the fresh air.”
“Did you pass it with Sevastyan?”
She nodded, trying not to be resentful. Evangeline never seemed upset by the bodyguards accompanying her everywhere. Ashe, who was definitely independent, had them as well, and she tended to ignore the entire situation. Why couldn’t she be more like them? She already knew that answer. She went to the back door and yanked it open, needing to be alone.
Evangeline and Ashe knew without a doubt that they were loved by their partners. Timur and Ashe worked as a team. Fyodor definitely led the way, but Ania was certain that when Evangeline asked a question, her man answered. She knew what was going on in his life. She wasn’t shut out.
Forcing her mind away from Mitya, Ania pulled two chairs together and got comfortable with her feet up. She wrapped a blanket around her because the wind had a definite bite to it. The outside temperature had dropped, and adding in the wind only made the temperature all the colder.
Vikenti stuck his head out of the kitchen. “You want something hot? Coffee? Hot chocolate? Anything at all?”
She dug her fingers into the journal. That was something her grandfather always did if she got in trouble. He’d sneak her hot chocolate with whipped cream. Her parents always pretended not to notice.
“Hot chocolate would be lovely, thank you,” she agreed.
“Coming right up,” he said and winked before closing the door.
She liked him. She liked Zinoviy. There were a couple of others she was getting to know. Kiriil and Matvei. Miron. They seemed part of Mitya’s family. Now she didn’t know what she was going to do. If she decided she had to leave, it would break her heart, but if she stayed, she knew she would grow resentful and angry. She wouldn’t do well in the environment Mitya wanted her to live in.
What did she want out of their relationship? Respect. She wanted him to respect the fact that she had certain skills. She wasn’t a shrinking violet. She also was intelligent. She would go to a safe room if there was immediate need; otherwise, she wanted to be able to help as much as possible. She was an excellent shot. She could drive better than any of them. Mitya had at least acknowledged that, but she was no longer certain he’d meant what he’d said about her being able to drive for him.
Very slowly she opened her grandfather’s journal, almost reverently. She had things her family members had left to her, but it was the little things she found she treasured. Everything in the journal was in her grandfather’s handwriting. Every drawing, every cartoon and doodle was done by him. He had entries that went back years. Loving things to her grandmother. Memories of her mother. He’d written specific passages to Ania. She treasured her memories of her father sharing those entries with her.