Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 126030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
They looked up with raised eyebrows.
“Hey,” she said. “I’m going to check in on Tristan.”
They both nodded. As she walked away, she heard, “Lucky bastard.”
Nessa laughed silently. Nice to be noticed.
It occurred to her that she didn’t know which room was Tristan’s.
She paused at the end of the hallway. The house was the same layout as hers, with two bedrooms and a similar kitchen and living room. Given he had clout in the convocation, he’d probably get the big room.
She peeked in the bunkbed room as she passed and found it empty. That must mean she was correct. That, or he wasn’t here.
The door to the big room was closed. She thought about knocking, but that guy had no qualms about peering in her windows to make sure she was accounted for. He didn’t deserve privacy.
She pushed the door open quietly. His large form lay on the bed on his back with his wings mostly beneath him. His arms were bent at the elbows and his hands rested on his bare stomach. The white sheet bunched low at his hips.
Even though his eyes were closed, he said, “Natasha,” in his deep, whiskey voice.
Shivers crawled across her skin. He always seemed to know when she was near, even before she’d known she could use energy to influence others. Even before she knew that was even possible with magic.
She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Hey.” He still didn’t open his eyes. “I made you some dessert to say thanks. Or to appreciate a job well done. Or just to be nice, if you’re feeling prickly and won’t accept the other two reasons.”
“Any and all reasons are good enough if I get to eat the dessert. Is it chocolate?”
“Yes, can you smell it?”
“No. Hopeful.”
She smiled and closed the small distance to the side of the bed, looking down on that handsome face, with his almost severe cheekbones and arching black brows. Raven stubble lined his jaw, and his dark hair fanned across the pillow in a loose curl. If the man wasn’t so wicked, he’d make angels sing. As it was, he probably made the devil nervous.
“How do you feel?” she asked. Given his eyes were still closed, she let her gaze roam freely over that fantastic body, his pecs perfectly defined and leading down into his eight pack. An ebony happy trail led from his navel to the sheet.
“My arm hurts like hell but I’m down to a dull throb, so it’ll be fine. Are you getting a good look?”
How the hell did he know? It was inhuman the way he could read her, even when he couldn’t see her energy. Even when no one else seemed to pay attention to her at all.
“Yes. You’re a work of art, like all the sculptures you always look at in the art room at Ivy House. Or don’t you still spend time appreciating those?”
“Every spare moment I get, yes. I love art, as you know from the first time we met.”
“When you thought I was an otherworldly being, yes, I remember. What happened to Indigo? I thought she was healing you.”
“She healed me enough to stop the bleeding and lessen the pain. That’s good enough. I’m not in the mood for people. Pain is better than annoyance. And you are an otherworldly being. A beautiful sprite who enchants and entrances everyone she meets. Men can’t help but flock to your siren’s call even though they might follow you to their demise. They’ll love the journey and count themselves lucky they were able to take it.”
“Is that what you’re doing, following me to your demise?”
“Maybe I am, but I won’t turn back now. If you should lead me to my doom, it’ll be a treasured ending.”
She inched closer, her shins bumping the mattress. He sounded genuine, no teasing or taunting. No playing games. So…sweet, even though he was essentially saying she’d be the death of him. Of any man. That should strike her as odd, or worse, horrible. But instead, her heart warmed. When he said it, it didn’t seem like a bad thing, and she didn’t feel like such a terrible person.
Her breath released slowly as she drank in the sight of him. His beauty. His form in repose.
“Well, anyway,” she said, ready to depart.
“I hope you’re not planning to leave without letting me taste that dessert.”
She hesitated. “Don’t you want a little peace?”
“Yes. Desperately. But right now, I’ll settle for some of that dessert. What is it?”
She frowned in confusion. “A chocolate lava cake. I put a square of ganache in the middle to make it more decadent. If you’re not in the mood for people I can grab a fork and set you up. You don’t need to humor me by eating it in my presence.”
“Did you not hear what I just said? You are not people. You are an ethereal being sent here to torment me. Please, grab a fork. I’ll push up a bit.”