Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“Give her to me.” Had her right index finger twitched? Hope bloomed into urgency, supercharging him. Get to her! She required his blood, and she required it now. “Hear me when I say nothing will stop me from leaving with that oracle.”
“The only way you exit this palace is in pieces.” Azar unsheathed two daggers.
Vibrating with aggression, he considered his options. Every second counted. Fighting the warlord—make that warlords. The other Astra materialized around them, creating a barrier, and it was clear they’d already been briefed on the situation. They spread their arms to block harpies while glaring at Rathbone.
Well. They’d made his decision for him. If the nine wished to battle, they would battle. But only as long as it took for Rathbone to reach his oracle. He needed only to touch her to teleport her to safety.
He braced to launch himself at his main opponent. Azar bowed up, ready to block. Now! Like an arrow, Rathbone shot forward—grinding to a halt when Taliyah appeared between them.
“Why weren’t you where I expected you to be?” she demanded, shoving him toward Neeka. “Well, what are you waiting for? Medicate my girl. You’re the only one who can.”
He dove to his knees and reached for Neeka. At the same time, Azar dove for him, securing a metal cuff around his wrist. To prevent him from flashing?
He couldn’t bring himself to care. Gently cupping Neeka’s jaw, he tilted her face in his direction. Ice crystalized in his veins. A multitude of bruises, knots and gashes marred her.
“I will make you better.” Another vow. Though she couldn’t hear his promise. He’d tell her again when she was able to watch his lips. To see the truth in his eyes.
The Astra closed in, but Taliyah held out her arms, commanding, “No one touches him—yet.”
Moaning, Neeka parted her lids and slowly focused on Rathbone. Between two heartbeats, she began pushing and kicking at him, fighting to create distance. All the while, she shook her head in denial, opening and closing her mouth. Choking noises left her.
A new realization struck, and he wanted to punch a wall. She attempted to deny him, preferring to suffer rather than accept his blood.
Sadness swept over him, pursued by an incredible sense of loss. But let her go? No. Never. This harpy-oracle would drink his blood, one way or another.
He scraped a claw over his wrist and pressed the injured flesh to her lips. The head shaking, pushing and kicking intensified as she tried to dislodge him. Merciless, he held steady, his blood flowing into her mouth.
Any time he healed, he cut himself again and forced her to drink more. Each time, her strength increased.
“You will take what you need. Understand?” he intoned. “Why are you upset, anyway? I’m the one with a laundry list of grievances. Need I state the most obvious? Had you simply stayed put, you’d be just fine. Now, get better so you can explain how you’re right, and I’m wrong.”
Neeka ceased her struggles, but not her glare. She sank her claws into his flesh, now holding him in place, gulping faster and faster. Hoping to drain him? Good. Let her.
“Dude. Have you learned nothing about harpies?” Taliyah asked behind him. “Leaving us vulnerable to our enemies is an unpardonable crime. Taunting us afterward is the nail in your jockstrap.”
“I know what I’m doing,” he told the General, ignoring a fresh pang of guilt. “Finally.”
The General’s previous claim echoed. Medicate my girl. You’re the only one who can.
Had someone fed the oracle blood and she’d vomited?
He pressed his tongue against his clamped teeth, his heart hammering. Possessiveness, yes, he felt it. Satisfaction, too.
Her bruises faded, and the cuts knitted together. A healthy glow returned to her skin.
When she bore no more injuries, she wrenched from him and popped to her feet. “How dare you! I didn’t give you permission to save my life,” she spat. Wet, ragged clothing hung from her newly healed form. “By the way, you aren’t my consort. I renounce you. Renounce you I say!”
He waited, on edge, accepting her venting. Five seconds passed. Ten. Twenty. Forty. No sign of sickness. He almost rubbed his hands together with glee. He was, in fact, Neeka’s consort. The warrior she needed above all others. The male she couldn’t live without. And there was nothing she could do about it. No amount of renouncing would change the truth.
“I am your consort.” His satisfaction spread, conquering new territory. “Your forever. And in the spirit of baring all, I’ve fed you my blood before. You were injured and sleeping and required healing.”
Her eyelids slitted. “Astra, what are you waiting for? This Underworld outlaw endangered the well-being of your queen’s favored assassin who is not a traitor. He deserves a lengthy stay in the dungeon. Alive. Mostly.”
Rathbone smirked. “Desperate to keep me close, are you?”