Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 140780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Don’t. Please don’t.
Lucien twitched in my hold, his arms dangling and legs at an odd angle but most of his weight braced instead of broken. I hoped to God that Roger would get the hint that Lucien only pretended to be weak as a newborn kitten and left him alone.
“He’s fine,” I repeated. “You’re right that he stood up too soon, that’s all. He just needs to rest.”
“Roger, let’s go,” Harry ordered, cottoning on far faster than his older colleague. “It’s just a case of lightheadedness. He’ll survive.” Harry grabbed him by the elbow, dragging him to the exit.
“Hang on.” The two guards blocked the threshold, their hands on their holsters. “No one is allowed to leave until Mr. Ward returns.”
“You can tell Mr. Ward that we’ve fulfilled our side of the deal,” Harry snapped. “We were assured we could go the moment our patient was stable. Well, he’s stable. And we’re tired and hungry and have families to return to. We’re leaving.”
“But—”
“Move aside.” Harry just shouldered his way out, dragging Roger with him.
The guards broke apart, granting them passage as if they weren’t entirely sure if they should.
But it was too late.
The doctors vanished without a backward glance, leaving the two guards staring at each other.
The taller, lankier one shrugged. “I suppose we just let them go?”
“I don’t remember being given orders to detain them so...I guess?” The muscular one scratched his chin. “The important thing is that Lucien Ashfall is alive.” Stepping into the room, he never took his hand off his holster. “You heard the doctors, Mr. Ashfall. You need a good sleep. Mr. Ward has gone to deal with a few things and will be back in the morning. Rest assured, there are multiple guards keeping you safe. We won’t let anyone breach the boundary so you can rest easy.”
The other guard said, “Have a good sleep, sir, and then you can go home.”
Lucien stumbled, making both of us sway.
He groaned again, loudly.
Whisper snarled as if understanding exactly what his master was doing and decided to play along too.
“Can you leave?” I snipped at the guards. “Go away.”
The taller, leaner guard raked a hand over his shaved head. “I dunno. He didn’t sound very good. Perhaps I should—”
“He’s weak and just coming out of surgery,” I snapped. “Of course he doesn’t sound good. He needs to be lying down. Get out.”
“You’re right. I’ll help you carry him to bed.” He stepped over the threshold as if intending to scoop Lucien into his arms, but Whisper snapped.
With a roar, the panther switched from house cat to slaughtering storm.
The guards leapt back.
The door slammed closed.
And the moment it shut, Lucien swooped to his full height, stalked across the room, and flicked the lock. Planting one palm against the wood, he bowed his head for a moment as if he wasn’t as strong as he looked. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sucked in a breath, and dropped his arm with a heavy exhale.
Whisper nudged his hip.
Lucien petted him distractedly as both man and beast turned to face me.
My heart skipped a beat.
Shirtless, his shredded abdominals flexed every time he breathed. The thick bandage over the dagger wound offered a morbid symmetry to the no-longer-operational piece of metal over his heart. And the bandages around his wrists were a damn sight better than the silver cuffs that used to bleed him every three days.
“You put on that little show to make them believe you won’t be up for any escaping tonight, didn’t you? You want them to lower their guard so you can sneak out easily.”
He just stood there—chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths, his eyes diving into mine.
My knees threatened to buckle beneath the weight of his stare.
The room tightened, air sparked, and the longer we stared at each other, the more I tripped into him.
Into all those feelings from before.
Into all that heat and tension and—
He pushed off from the door.
He came toward me, one careful step at a time.
I sucked in a breath at how breathtakingly gorgeous he was but he was also dangerous and scary and no longer restrained.
Which was a horrifying, terrifying thing.
“W-What are you doing?” My breath caught somewhere in my throat.
He didn’t stop until he was close enough to bow from his tall height and press his forehead to mine.
I froze as stinging, sizzling connection erupted between us. He sucked in a breath as he cupped my cheek, walking me backward as if he fought both good and bad, evil and innocent.
I bit my bottom lip as my spine hit the wall. “Shouldn’t we be plotting our escape...”
“Probably,” he purred. “But don’t worry. I have a plan.”
“A plan?”
“I just needed you to get me out of Cinderkeep. I’ll handle the rest.”
“You’ll handle it?” My eyes popped wide. “How?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“But—”
“Thank you for being willing to kill me.” His nose brushed mine as his voice barely rose above a roughened whisper. “And thank you for doing such a bad job at it that I’m still alive.”