Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
She was no closer to locking in his affections, making her suspect his previous desire had nothing to do with her. For that matter, she had yet to discover a single detail about his war plans. Honestly, she was no closer to anything.
No, not true. She’d learned how he flittered. A small but powerful pebble. Micah wore one on a wrist cuff and often carried a spare in his pocket. What would she have to do to snag a stone for herself?
She’d tried to filch the extra one multiple times without success.
Each morning, she awoke and yes, okay, she’d had to scramble away from him in bed while pretending she hadn’t unwittingly draped herself over him during the night and luxuriated in his cocoon of strength and warmth. He’d then provided her with a bath and a new gown.
Though she’d opened the door to multiple topics, he hadn’t engaged in any kind of serious conversation with her. She’d smiled often, hoping to put him at ease. Ghosted her fingertips over the seam of her lips to draw attention there. Uttered suggestive phrases. He’d only grown more aloof.
Except during the suspended moments he stared at her, and she stared back. Sometimes she swore satisfaction glimmered in the depths of his eyes. Other times, aggravation. But more and more, he’d stopped glancing her way.
Viori loathed losing a battle. Any battle. Why couldn’t she win this male over? What would it take? And why did she continue to play with the notion of ending the war with his surrender rather than his betrayal and...staying with him? Him. At least for a little while. No way he would ever accept her children.
So, sabotage him she would. Decision made. No more backtracking. Maybe. Probably.
“...the ambush the second the truce ends.”
Uh-oh. What was this? He sat at the maps table, Norok standing at his side. They muttered back and forth before the second-in-command exited, tossing a glare in her direction.
Viori perched at a desk, pretending to read the book he’d given her. Where was this ambush to take place? What weapons did he plan to use?
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “Shall I summon a meal for you?”
Was it mealtime already? The brightest, darkest portion of her days. “No, thank you.” Whenever they dined, they chatted about nothing while Micah ensured she received the tenderest of meats, the juiciest of fruits, the creamiest of cheeses and the softest of breads. As she dined, he exuded so much satisfaction she became light-headed—satisfaction without aggravation; she only craved more. Which made her stomach hurt! A terrible cycle.
“Not hungry? You? Are you ill?” Concern contorted his features. He dropped his papers and looked her over. “I’ll summon a healer immediately.”
“I’m fine, probably,” she assured him, but he was already shouting for the camp’s best physician.
A fae who tried to examine her and got clawed in the face for his efforts.
“I believe I sense that she is healthy, Majesty,” the male said, swiping blood from his cheek.
“Go,” a wary Micah replied, dismissing him.
Again, she caught herself wondering if he was worth keeping. If she could possibly, somehow facilitate a lifelong truce between kings, saving Micah the anguish of defeat, paying her debt to Kaysar and giving him more time with his wife. His new family. If she could find a way to make him love the “monsters” he hunted.
A sharp inhalation lodged in the center of Viori’s chest. Her brother. Happy. Content. As he should be. As he deserves. And yet...
Her lungs deflated in a gush. For the first time, a part of her might...resent him. He’d moved on and found joy without Viori. His cup of contentment brimmed just when she had found a way to pay her debt to him. What if he had no room in his life for her?
And what if she decided to keep Micah, but he didn’t want her, either?
No. No! If she wanted Micah, she could have him. Today, she would prove it. Whatever it took.
* * *
MICAH’S EARS TWITCHED as water splashed. An innocent sound. Unless his captive was involved.
He scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand. Red currently bathed behind the screen he’d acquired, preparing for bed. She moaned in delight, and he did his best to ignore the blistering arousal rampaging his veins. She’d been like this for hours. Not bathing—that had started endless minutes ago—but softer. Almost needy.
How many times had she grazed her nails against his skin or ensnared his gaze, making his heart race? How often had she traced her lips with the tip of her little pink tongue? He was never not rock-hard and throbbing. Whether in her presence or away from her. Circumstances no longer mattered.
Again and again, he mentally chanted Erwen’s rules. Do no harm to the innocent. Protect what’s yours. Always do what’s right. Never be without a backup plan.