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)
“Oh, I’m not cold.” He shrugged a little too casually. “I burn every minute of every fucking day. The searing pain in my veins means I want nothing more than revenge on those who did this to me and if it wasn’t for the fact that your presence helps temper that pain, I wouldn’t bother being anywhere near you.” He grinned and traced the tip of the dagger along my neck. “Do you honestly think you would still be alive if I didn’t get some benefit from keeping you that way?”
I gulped, leaning away from the knife.
“I get it.” My chin strained upward, trying to avoid the cold kiss of metal. “I’ll stop. I’m sorry. I—”
“Quiet.” The dagger froze against my skin.
For a heartbeat, I thought he’d decided I wasn’t worth the trouble and decided to slit my neck, but a growl rumbled in his chest, exactly like Whisper.
Slowly, deliberately, he tilted my chin higher with the flat of the blade.
The cold edge pressed just below my jaw, angling my face into the light.
“Who,” he asked softly, almost politely, “did this?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
I BLINKED. I BLANKED. MY HEART thundered. “What?”
The dagger left my skin just as his fingers replaced it. He traced the thin, angry line Lydia had autographed on me last night. His touch was so careful, so gentle, it burned.
“Who cut you?” His voice shook with barely controlled fury. “Who dared fucking hurt you?”
I swallowed, heat rising into my face. “It’s nothing.” I couldn’t tell him what happened because that would lead to confessing I’d lost his blood. And after this fun little conversation where I’d learned the only reason he kept me alive was because I was some unexplainable pharmaceutical for his pain, no way did I want to antagonise him any further.
He inhaled sharply as his hand fell from my jaw, clenched into a fist, then opened again as if he couldn’t decide what to do with it.
“Was it those two who never leave my front steps?” The veins in his temples stood out; a shimmer of sweat appeared by his brow, making it seem as if he strained against some internal leash.
I tried to step away, to avoid the rage pouring off him but his hand lashed out and wrapped exquisitely tight around my wrist. “Answer me.”
Whisper slunk low to the ground, flattening his ears.
Lucien’s hand trembled around me, his jaw clenched so tight the tendons in his neck twitched. He looked...dangerous. Unhinged. Fury was a living thing, stalking under his skin, filling with pressure and hate and violence.
Our eyes snared and I drowned in him. In his rage and misery and pain.
Such, such pain.
His teeth ground together just as a soft beep sounded. A flash of red appeared beneath his shirt. He sucked in a ragged breath as his spine snapped straight.
He stumbled, the dagger clattering from his fingers as he doubled over. Gagging on despair, his impossibly handsome face twisted, beautiful and terrible, his teeth bared as he clutched his chest with both hands.
“Fuck.” His knees buckled.
I caught him without thinking—my arms snapping around his waist, hauling his bulk against me, but it was no use. I didn’t have the strength to keep him upright and we collapsed together. Me beneath him—his burning, burning body crushing mine against the carpet. His head fell forward; his lips smashed to mine, entirely by accident.
He froze.
I froze.
Every nerve lit like a firework about to ignite.
His lips burned as hot as the rest of him, pressed tight to mine, his body solid and unmovable.
For one dizzying heartbeat, I gave in. For one destroying insanity, he sank heavier over me. Our bodies pressed and heated, all of him against all of me, his lips parting, the warmth of his mouth dark and—
“What the fuck are you doing?” Wrenching away, he rolled off me and lay panting on his back.
Scrambling to my knees, I touched my lips.
Another barely-there kiss but...wow.
I’d been kissed before, but only once, and only by a boy I’d had no feelings for. I’d chosen to lose that first kiss label because I was sick of being mocked for it. I sometimes regretted not losing my virginity that night too, just to get it over with.
That kiss when I was sixteen had lasted a far sight longer than this one, yet this one?
It kept stinging and stinging and stinging.
The faint flavour of his taste—honey water that he liked to sip, and the lingering scent of peppermint tea almost made me drunk.
Rook, stop being so ridiculous!
Sitting upright, he planted one hand on the carpet and scooted against the couch. Resting his head against the back of it, his fingers clutched the silver disc trapping his heart.
He looked so wretched, so drained and agonised, I crawled toward him and pressed the back of my hand to his slick forehead.
His eyes closed as he groaned, but he didn’t stop me from touching him.