Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 107652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“You want me to look after you?”
My hackles rose at how offensive he seemed to find that thought. “Calm down. I’m not asking you to be responsible for me.”
“Responsible for you.” He scowled and leaned forward. “You do know what a loaded phrase that is in my culture, right?”
“No.” I swallowed hard. “What does it mean?”
He smirked just a little. “Asking me to be responsible for you is as blatant as offering yourself to me...for life.”
“I-It is?”
“It’s a clear emotional plea saying I’ve ruined you for all others and you can’t survive unless I claim you.”
“But...” My headache broke through the miraculous properties of his blood and throbbed. “I didn’t ask you to be responsible for me.”
“Pity.” He exhaled. “I might have said yes.”
I almost dropped dead on the carpet. “Wait. You would?”
He flinched as if only just realising where this conversation had gone. Shutters came down over his eyes as he stepped back and cleared his throat. “I don’t have time for this. We need to—”
“Thank you, by the way.” I cut him off, not willing to let the magic of this moment fade. “Thank you for saving me yesterday. Thank you for taking away my pain. And thank you for putting me in a different pavilion so I wouldn’t have to see the aftermath.”
His jaw tightened as if uneasy with my gratitude. “You’re welcome.” His gaze held mine before straying over my mouth, neck, and settling on my breasts.
Fire flooded me, arrowing between my legs.
God, how did he do it?
How was he the only man in the entire world able to turn me on with a single look?
Trembling a little, my hand went to what he stared at, resting over the swell above my heart. “Did you...did you do anything else while healing me?”
He froze.
Every muscle in his body locked as if I’d struck him. “Excuse me?”
The tendons in his throat stood out as if he choked on guilt and denial. His jaw worked, refusing to confess.
The air between us burned.
I wanted to tell him what Laura had seen. I wanted to see his reaction if I told him I knew he’d kissed me, fondled me...that he could do it again if he wanted.
But my frustrating condition broke through the numbing quality of his blood, steadily building a migraine.
The air continued to smoulder and smoke, becoming unbearably tense—
“You were unconscious.” Staggering backward, he sucked in a tattered breath. “I helped you, that’s all.” Sweat glimmered on his hairline. “I didn’t—”
A soft beep.
A flash of red.
He clutched his chest as his system activated awful punishment, just because he’d felt something. His hand landed over his heart, clawing at the piece of metal.
I dashed forward—
He flung up his other hand, snarling like Whisper. “Stay away from me. I can’t be close—” He broke off with a hiss, crashing against the back of the couch as pain arced through him.
Completely ignoring him, I closed the distance between us and planted my palm over his on that nasty device. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
He froze.
Our eyes locked.
The way he stared at me—as if he wanted to kill me and kiss me all at once. The way his teeth ground together and chest rose and fell beneath my hand.
For a moment, the world felt far, far too small.
Just him and me and nothing else.
But then he slid his hand from beneath mine and pushed me back.
Something wrenched inside me, but I didn’t fight him.
Awkwardness fell as he cleared his throat. “I feel better.”
I didn’t know if it was from me touching him or if his pulse had calmed far quicker than mine, but I’d already asked far too much of my stress-phobic system to tolerate.
I grew a little dizzy.
Meagre sunlight came through the windows, glinting on a faint scar across his chin. I latched onto it, doing my best to stay upright.
“How did you get that scar?”
His eyebrows shot up. “What?”
I blushed and dropped my gaze. “Sorry, I-I wasn’t studying you. I just...I’m feeling a little unstable and trying to distract myself.”
He didn’t move for the longest time before he cleared his throat and ran his finger over the silvery line. “I think it was from one of the first times the vitalsync core knocked me out. I bashed into a table on the way down.”
My heart fisted that he’d given me a tiny piece of his past. “Was anyone there to patch you up?”
“What do you think?”
I think he’d lived an incredibly lonely, tragically horrible life and even with all the blood staining his hands, I couldn’t find it in me to judge.
“How old were you?”
“Who cares?” He shrugged and broke into a walk. I accepted that was the end of his willingness, but he added quietly, “Ten, eleven? It’s not important. Come. We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”
I followed him, full of pity for the young boy he’d been and the savage man he’d become.