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)
“I apologise for my wife,” the old man said calmly, softly. “But I agree with her that you really ought to go.” He waved his cane at the road. “You’re trespassing and it’s at least a two-hour walk to the village. Best be on your way.”
Lucien didn’t speak, didn’t move, but his silence was loud.
It pressed against me like a living thing, fury and violence coiled so tightly it made my teeth ache.
I rested my hand on his back.
He shuddered as if my touch snuffed out some of his fire.
His heat faded just enough for him to clear his throat and lock gazes with the woman. “You’re a lot greyer than I remember but you still have a sharp tongue.” His stare slid to the man. “And you...we might be unrelated by blood, but you always treated me like your own.”
“My own?” The old man coughed. “What do you mean?”
Lucien stayed unyielding and hot. “Why are you still here? I expected Ashfall Cliff to be abandoned. Are you that loyal or have you claimed it as your own?”
Everyone froze.
But then the woman stumbled a little closer. “It...can’t be.”
“What can’t be?” The old man squinted and pulled out a pair of glasses from his navy trousers. Putting them on his nose, he stepped closer, scanning Lucien from head to toe. “Do we know him?”
Lucien let the pair study him—his fingers never loosening around my wrist.
Whisper grumbled, not liking the strange tension in the air.
“It’s...just not possible,” the woman whispered, stepping closer, no longer aware of anything but Lucien.
“What’s not possible?” The old man almost stomped his foot with impatience. “Wife, what are you—don’t touch him for heaven’s sake.”
Whisper’s tail lashed as the woman stood on her tiptoes and pressed fleeting fingertips to Lucien’s cheek.
Lucien allowed it even though a flash of heat escaped him.
Ripping her hand away as if he’d burned her, she staggered back and shook her head. “But...you’re dead.”
“Who’s dead?”
“Oh good grief, man!” The woman suddenly turned on her husband. “Look, you dumb old goat. Look!” She swatted him with the back of her hand. “Those glasses were a waste of money. He’s the spitting image of Jin Ashfall!”
“What?” The old man jerked. “But Master Jin is dead.”
“Exactly!”
“Then...” He trailed off, his knees wobbling as he clutched his cane. Shaking his head, his face turned white as if he’d seen a ghost. “We’ve finally gone senile after all this time.” He pointed at Whisper who bared his teeth. “Look, wife. We’ve lost the plot. See? Why else is there a jaguar—”
“Panther,” Lucien cut in. “Actually.”
“Panther,” the woman repeated in a daze. Cocking her head, she smiled a little wistfully. “Even your voice sounds like—”
She choked as comprehension finally clicked into place.
Her knees buckled.
The old man caught her just in time, wrapping his arm around her as if protecting her from us.
But then she started to cry. “Xiao Lu?”
A skin-sizzling burst of fire escaped Lucien, arrowing into me as if I was the containment of his pain. Frost answered. Snow howled. I gasped with agony.
But Lucien just clutched me hard as he nodded and said, “Hello, Uncle Wen, Auntie Mei.”
Absolute chaos broke out....
Chapter Thirty-Three
EVERYTHING HAPPENED IN A FEVER DREAM.
I was awake but not.
Conscious but burning.
Uncle Wen joined his wife in tears and Auntie Mei tried to kowtow at my feet, only to jerk upright as Whisper stalked forward and hissed.
They tried to touch me; Rook stepped in and shielded me.
They jabbered about so many things; my ears rang too loudly to hear.
They beckoned me to go home...I followed.
However, I didn’t remember moving as we left the cliff and stepped through the black and gold gates of Ashfall Cliff.
I didn’t know how I operated my hands and feet when I could no longer feel such things.
All I could feel was fire.
Burning.
Burning.
People came from all directions, disgruntled and peeved until Uncle Wen flung out his arms and presented me like I was a long-lost prince.
I locked down every muscle as Uncle Wen gathered everyone into the central courtyard, introducing me to every gardener, cook, maid, and handyman, reeling off far too many names.
I braced myself as they touched me for good luck.
I gritted my teeth as hands—far, far too many hands worshipped me and welcomed me, making my insides roar with flames.
“You’re alive!” someone said.
“How is this possible?” another cried.
“Why did you not come home sooner?”
“Where have you been?!”
I gritted my teeth and couldn’t answer.
Whisper never left my side and Rook...she was the only reason I didn’t break. She was a drop of cold in my world of heat. A snowflake that I clung to even as my bones melted.
Something was wrong with me.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
I needed space.
I needed ice.
I need her—
“Xiao Lu,” Uncle Wen cut into my surging thoughts.
I was suddenly seven again—knees scraped, hands sticky from candied hawthorn—my mother laughing as she brushed dirt from my trousers, telling me not to run so fast—