Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 13969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
He nodded, slowly. “Only if the same goes for me.”
“You get five questions, you mean?”
He nodded again. “You must answer honestly. And then I, too, will leave you alone.”
“The thing is,” she said quietly, “I think you could make me answer honestly.”
After a surprised beat, Brigan laughed, the sound like a flood of joy from deep in his belly. “I won’t compel you,” he said. “Not that it seems to work anyway.”
Cat went still. “Is that what you call it? Compelling?”
“Is that one of your questions?”
She stared up at him, calculating. “I don’t think so. Not yet.”
“So are we in agreement? A pint, five questions each, full honesty, and then you pretend we’ve never met?”
The tension to understand him felt like a physical rod inside her torso, something rigid and pulsing. She wasn’t sure that five questions would ease it, and she hated the idea of never seeing him again, but it was that or nothing, she could see it in his eyes. He wanted her to say yes, but the second she said no, he would vanish again, and this time for good.
“Okay,” she said.
His black eyes glimmered, and he smiled that beautifully dimpled smile. “Yeah? All right? Cheers.” He held out his arm to her. “Shall we?”
Chapter Six
If sex with some sort of magical creature at a crowded party wasn’t surreal enough, then sitting across from him afterward at a small booth at King’s Ale House, having a drink, certainly was. Cat could barely blink as she watched him lift his glass of scotch and bring the rich amber liquid to his lips. He sipped it, let out a happy Ahhh, and swallowed.
“Shall I start, or would you rather?” he asked, wiping the pad of his thumb across his mouth. His hand fell away, revealing that amazing smile, and he laughed at her stunned silence. “Is it really so hard to look at me?”
It was, actually. She’d seen him in the dark bedroom, she’d seen him in the shadows of the porch light. But she hadn’t seen him under the warm lighting of a bar, and she didn’t even feel embarrassed about the time it was taking her to get used to being this close to someone so expansive, so massive, so beautiful. His skin was smooth and unmarred, every feature in perfect dimension and proportion. Those black eyes held a constellation of mirth and teasing and fondness. His mouth, that sinful mouth, was full and smiling, teeth straight and white and perfect.
But there was something else there in his eyes. Loneliness, anguish, a haunted tightness she couldn’t identify.
Cat gnawed at a hangnail, wondering where to begin, and a shimmer ran through her. Starting, she registered he’d said something in that low, vibrating voice. “What?” she asked, meeting his gaze.
“I told you to stop eating your hand.”
She huffed out a laugh, tucking it in her lap under the table.
“How are you able to ignore it?” he asked bluntly, and although to anyone else the question would be vague and nonsensical, Cat felt vindicated that he was finally acknowledging the voice he used. “I’ve never met anyone who could,” he explained.
“I can hear it,” she said, thinking back to the low hum of Brigan’s voice in Harry’s living room and in the bedroom, both times sounding as if it was coming from every direction at once. “But it’s almost like a voice coming from another room, on every side of the one I’m in. Quiet, deep, vibrating.”
“What do you feel when I speak in that voice?”
“The same thing I feel when I look at you.”
“Which is?”
Cat thought about it more, feeling now how the desire to move to the other side of the booth, to slide in beside him, was nearly irresistible. But also, that it was curiosity above fear, only a desire for him to come closer. “Warm and relaxed.”
“So it doesn’t scare you?”
She shook her head. “When we were . . .” She trailed off, blushing.
“Enjoying each other?” he prompted with a grin.
“Yes—during—that—I let you in and it made everything . . .”
“Better?”
She nodded, blowing out a breath. “Yes. So much better.”
Brigan sat back in the booth, smiling. “Fascinating.”
With a deep breath, Cat leaned forward, planting her elbows on the table.
“Oh,” he teased, eyes twinkling. “She’s getting settled in.” He mirrored her posture, leaning forward again, resting his forearms on the table. “Shall we begin?”
“Begin?” she asked, laughing. “You’ve already asked me four questions.”
He grinned, shaking his head. “We hadn’t officially started yet. Those don’t count.”
With a soft growl, she relented. “Fine. First question,” she said pointedly. “How old are you?”
He looked surprised; obviously this wasn’t where he expected her to start. “Twenty-five.”
And she’d expected him to be honest. “Yes, but how long have you been twenty-five?”
Brigan grinned, saying cheekily, “A while.”
A laugh burst out of Cat’s throat. “Is this your way of admitting to me that you’ve read Twilight?”