Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Yakov stroked Theo’s hip with two fingers. “They have nutrient drinks as well, if you’d like that.”
“Thank you, yes.” A slight huskiness to her tone.
Wanting to sit her in his lap and cuddle her, then stroke her all over, he forced himself to behave. “Beer for me, too. And throw in a bunch of the heavier snacks. We only grabbed a bite from a cart for dinner.”
“Yeah, we’re a bit hungry, too.”
Pavel had just sent through the order when a big hand came down on Yakov’s back and a voice boomed, “There you are, you mudak! I should beat you to a pulp for that stunt you pulled.”
* * *
* * *
THEO froze, her brain—which had been settling into the slumbering heat engendered by Yakov’s petting—immediately switching to attack mode.
Because there were a lot of things a telekinetic who could move small objects a small distance could do to disable an attacker. For example, there was an empty glass on the table next to their own. She could easily push it to the ground, smash it into shards, then stab a shard into someone’s eye.
It would wipe her out, but that person would still be bleeding from a vicious eye wound.
Perhaps these weren’t things another Tk of her Gradient would think about, but those Tks hadn’t been raised by Marshall Hyde. Her grandfather had twisted her in infinite ways; it was second nature for her to think with lethal intent.
The big bulky man with shaggy blond hair and an equally blond beard who’d grabbed Yakov’s shoulder bared his teeth as Yakov turned and said, “You deserved it, you bag of mangy beige fur.”
Theo fixed her psychic power on the glass as the man growled . . . then threw back his head and started laughing, slapping Yakov on the shoulder the whole time. “You’re damn good, for a brown bear.” He spoke Russian with a heavy accent she couldn’t quite place.
Yakov elbowed the man in the gut—but she could see that he’d made sure there was no power behind the hit. “Get the hell out of my space, you oaf. I’m having a night out, in case you can’t tell.”
The big guy looked over, then leaned on the table and beamed at Theo. “Hi, I am Hakon. A polar bear out of Svalbard, Norway—with stunning white fur. Visiting for the season.” Big white teeth against darkly tanned skin.
“I’m Theo,” she said, releasing her mental hold on the glass. “Is this type of interaction normal among bears?”
Yakov tugged her closer to his body, his hand splayed over her hip and part of his body now slightly behind hers.
The contact blew life into the slumbering embers, had her tracing the line of his throat with her eyes as he said, “Only the uncivilized ones. Never trust a beige bear out of Svalbard is all I have to say.” But his eyes were dancing.
And she realized he and the bearded male were friends. Close enough friends that they could read each other through the words spoken aloud. She’d never had friendships like that.
Her only friend her entire life had been Pax.
She felt cold all at once, though the club was warm with the heat of the bodies within. And she understood that it was the cold of being on the outside looking in, as she’d so often done as a child. Walking past restaurants and bakeries where parents stood with their children’s hands in theirs, or where families sat eating. While she walked in a solitary bubble, beside the person who was paid to give her the necessities of life, nothing more.
Then Yakov squeezed her hip and gave her a smile that invited her to laugh and join in. She didn’t know how to laugh, but she didn’t pull away from the touch of his body. Already it had become a thing of comfort . . . of need. The latter was a terrifying realization, but she still didn’t pull away.
One night, whispered the darkness inside her head, just one night.
When another woman joined the group a moment later, they had to shuffle around the table again, and Theo ended tucked up against Yakov’s front on one side, with Arwen’s body pressed into hers on the other. She didn’t truly notice Arwen except for being aware of his presence, but Yakov was a wall of delicious fire that made her breasts ache and her skin crave even more contact.
Body and mind in a state of overwhelm, she had to focus hard to hear what he was saying when he spoke against her ear. His breath was warm, his presence muscled and compact. “You okay? We can always head outside if you need space.”
Theo made her mouth shape words. “I’m fine.” They weren’t quite the truth—her body was having trouble processing all of the input coming at her, but the most visceral of those inputs was the physical contact between her and Yakov.