Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“I said to stop it,” Vero said. “You’re going to overwhelm yourself.”
Her stomach began to cramp, and a headache formed at the base of her neck. He was right. Slowly, she calmed herself and brought all her senses back inside her body and head, where they belonged. “I need to know what’s going on there.”
“Not tonight,” he said, turning her again, his hand warm across her lower back. “Tonight, we live by the contract.”
* * * *
Vero’s room smelled like him. Foresty and male. Lyrica sat awkwardly on the bed, plucking at a loose string on the bedspread. She didn’t have anything sexy to wear. That shopping trip to Seattle really did sound like an excellent idea. Was she crazy? Most likely. But something about Vero called for her.
She didn’t know why, except he was probably the sexiest male she’d ever seen in her entire life. Plus, they had a contract. She wanted to be amused about that, but when they both signed, he had seemed very serious. Even that was sexy.
During the dance, she’d almost combusted from being close to him. What was it about Vero? For the past several months, as she’d lived in the Kurjan world, she hadn’t felt a thing for any of the immortals. Nothing. Like not even a casual interest, much less a strong desire.
Tonight for bed, she wore a white T-shirt with her yoga pants like she normally did, wishing for a sexy camisole or negligee.
Quiet drummed around her. Vero had escorted her to his room, rather their room, before heading out to check the positions of the soldiers guarding the various areas of camp that needed surveillance, especially the female barracks, and of course, the main lodge.
She thought about how dangerous his life would always be, and for some reason that didn’t scare her. She wished she could talk to Hope, and once she received the updated computers, she would definitely reach out.
Hope didn’t know much more about the Kurjans than Lyrica did, considering Hope had been raised by the Realm.
Lyrica missed her. They’d become fast friends while fighting against an enemy the day Paxton became the king, and Hope had quickly become a close confidante.
Her stomach turning over, Lyrica rested against the headboard and tucked a pillow more securely behind her back.
Should she just get naked and under the covers? She didn’t know what to do. This felt so awkward. What had she been thinking? She had almost talked herself into getting up and leaving when the door opened and Vero walked inside.
His gaze swept her, and heat flared along her every nerve ending. “I take it we’re all safe for the night?” Lyrica asked dryly.
He nodded and kicked off his monstrous boots.
“What size are your feet, anyway?”
“Size seventeen. Sometimes sixteen and often eighteen.” If he found her desperate attempt to start a conversation amusing, he didn’t show it.
She’d have to be careful not to trip over his footwear. She’d probably break her neck. A nervous laugh escaped her.
“Are you all right?” Vero unzipped the perfectly hidden zipper of his uniform top.
“I always wondered if the medals came off or stayed on.” During her time as a captive in the Kurjan nation, she’d seen many different silver medals arranged in all sorts of different orders. Not one inch of her cared to learn what any of them meant.
“They pretty much stay on.” He shrugged out of the top and strode to the closet.
Smooth, hard muscle showed in every line of his chest and down his arms. She gulped, heat pooling low in her abdomen. She had never seen a chest like that. Maybe computer enhanced on social media with the use of AI, but not in real life.
Then he opened the closet and turned his back to her, hanging up the top.
She failed at masking her gasp. Whip scars marred his entire muscled back, top to bottom, some quite deep and all ridged.
He looked over his shoulder, his eyes a mesmerizing, storm-tossed blue. “What?”
“Your back,” she breathed. “I thought immortals didn’t scar.”
“Depends on the age of the immortal and how brutal the wound.” He unbuckled his belt.
The sound sent erotic shock waves through her system. Even so, tears pricked the back of her eyes. “You must’ve been young and the beating brutal.” Her heart hurt for him.
“Beatings, plural. Injury upon injury can also create lasting wounds for us. We have to heal ourselves at least somewhat before being harmed again.” His tone remained flat with no emotion.
She felt enough for both of them. “Your uncles?”
“Affirmative.”
She didn’t feel any loss at their deaths. How horrible for him. While she didn’t have the skills yet to reliably read an immortal, she felt enough from him to know that he didn’t want sympathy.
He unzipped his pants and took them off to hang in the closet, leaving himself in black boxer briefs.