Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Though I had to admit that being pressed up against Daemon had been like hugging a furnace. It warmed me from the outside in. But by the time it got down deep, I swear it became a different kind of heat. A fire that started to blaze through me, making me overly sensitive, aching for more than the chaste touch he’d been offering me.
If we’d stood there a moment longer, I might have let my own hands start exploring, taking, teasing. I might have heard my own voice, whimpering, pleading.
“Enough,” I grumbled to myself, throwing off the covers and grumbling as the cool room air nipped at my bare skin. I didn’t have a lot of clothes with me, and I’d spent a precious few moments before sleep washing everything I had in the tub, then hanging it all to dry around the room.
It meant I slept naked and exposed and cold, but I would have fresh clothes for a few days, at least. Which suddenly mattered a lot more than it did before Daemon appeared.
I turned the water for the shower on, knowing it would take a solid ten or fifteen minutes to warm up, then stood in front of the mirror, looking at the reflection of someone I barely recognized.
It was only a few weeks—five? six? I was losing track—but I looked so little like the woman I’d been when I’d left my father’s house with a mission.
The use of my power seemed to have sapped all the color from my skin. My new paleness made the dark circles under my eyes all the more apparent. Purple and blue that was starting to make me look like I had two black eyes.
Even my body had changed.
Where there had been some extra winter padding over my belly and hips, I had seemed to hollow out; the lines of my ribs and hip bones started to show themselves.
I looked away, uncomfortable at the proof of how poorly I’d been taking care of myself.
It would all be worth it, I told myself as I stepped under the lukewarm water and scrubbed some of the stress and exhaustion away.
I felt almost human after brushing out my hair and slipping into a pair of fleece-lined leggings, thick socks, a sweatshirt, and a sweater, then made my way out of the hotel room.
I skipped yet another vending machine meal since I had a mission to accomplish before the sun went down.
I promised Daemon a warm shirt. I owed him at least that.
So I drove the long road back toward town, using my credit card to charge the warmest coat I could find—a vintage leather jacket with thick lining inside.
Did I worry about my credit as I slipped the jacket on over my own to enjoy the extra warmth on the drive back to my car’s hiding spot? Sure. But if all went to plan, I could get a good job again and rebuild my credit. If it didn’t… well, I think the last thing anyone was going to worry about was their credit score.
I sat in my car, trying to calm my frazzled nerves, my belly sloshing around—making me glad I hadn’t eaten anything—at the idea of what state I might find Daemon in.
But I owed it to him not to be a coward, so I climbed out of the car and started my long trek through the woods, figuring that by the time I got there, he would have his extra hour to heal.
Or so I thought.
As I crept down the stairs, I could hear his frantic, labored breaths. I knew that sound. I’d heard it too many times coming from the people the gods had tortured. It was the sound of someone just trying to survive the pain they were experiencing through their whole bodies.
I swallowed hard as I made my way in front of him.
There was no stopping the whimper that escaped me when I got a good look at him.
His face was swollen beyond recognition, blood and bruises covering every inch of his face and neck. There was no blood staining his shirt—a small miracle—but I would bet that the skin beneath was mottled with bruises, that there might even be broken bones.
“There you are, shadow girl,” he murmured, attempting a smile, but ending up wincing instead. “I’m not pretty yet,” he added as I sniffled.
The tear slid down my cheek, falling off my chin and landing on the leather jacket.
“Hey, hey, easy on the merchandise, sweetness. Don’t need it all soggy.”
He was the one tortured to an inch of his, er, life. But he was trying to lighten the mood, to make me feel better.
“Sorry,” I said with an unattractive snuffle as I wiped my cheek.
“Why don’t you get all that pretty over here and unlock me? My fingers are tingling.”