Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“I get why you want it. You know how to use it?”
I nod, my eyes unintentionally roving over his carved chest and arms. The waistband of his shorts hangs low enough that I can see the tip of a black tattoo. I want him to push his shorts down, put me on that table and fuck away every thought and emotion swimming around my head right now. No one could take the world away like he could, with his body and his intensity.
It’s just the aromium, I remind myself. I’m not actually a feral island bitch in heat.
He leans his back against the wall, meeting my gaze. “You won’t be sparring with anyone tomorrow. Or I guess in a few hours, I don’t know what time it even is. And we won’t be going to find the place you found the knife.”
“Why not? I told you I’m not injured.”
He pulls his brows together, his expression troubled. “You don’t have to make deals with me. I shouldn’t have kept the knife. It’s yours.”
Can I trust this sudden change of heart? Is this just him feeling guilty over what happened with Vance?
“But you said the guy who left this knife behind can help with the aromium shield that protects the camp.”
He nods. “Yeah, he could help with a lot of things. If he’s willing.”
“He may not be?”
His shoulders drop with defeat. “I don’t even know if he’s alive. And if he is, he chose to leave. So would he help? I don’t know.”
“But if he is alive, and if we can find him, could he help us reach the people at Rising Tide and tell them about aromium? So they can decide if they want to keep it on for themselves?”
He nods. “Yeah, he could help with that.”
“Would he want to?”
He considers. “He knows how dangerous aromium is, and he knows it’s only going to get worse. But I don’t know what his state of mind is. If he’s even alive.”
My mind wanders back to the children at Rising Tide. Not only has Whitman stolen their lives, but he’s also making them into weapons capable of mass destruction. I only wanted vengeance against Lochlan when I got here, but I can’t unsee what I’ve seen. This is bigger than anything that’s happened since the virus changed the world and Whitman seized power, and it’s only going to get worse unless someone stops it.
“I think we should try,” I say.
“Okay. Let’s get some sleep and talk about it tomorrow.”
I look around the spartan space. “I’m assuming you don’t sleep on the table?”
Amusement flickers on his face. “No, this is a meeting room. Bed’s in here.”
He opens a door on the other side of the room and I follow him through it. As soon as I walk into the space, the scents of salt, wind and sun-dried cotton send a tingle of awareness dancing down my spine. There’s a bed with a pillow and white sheets, a lightweight blanket half bunched on the bed and half hanging to the floor.
Weapons hang from several metal hooks on the wood-planked wall, one hook holding what looks like a dark jacket. On the small dresser, there’s a framed photo of a woman who looks like she’s in her forties, her hair dark and her facial features similar to Marcus’s, other than her expression. She’s smiling warmly, which I’m not sure his facial muscles know how to do.
A woven basket sits in one corner, dirty clothes piled into it.
“You can sleep in here.” He takes what looks like a radio from a shelf. “I’ll take this so it doesn’t keep you up.”
“Where will you sleep?”
He tilts his head toward the doorway. “In the other room. This door locks from the inside.”
“You’ll have to sleep on the floor, though.”
He shrugs. “No big deal. Get some rest.”
“Hey.” I sit down on the bed and unlace my boots. “How do I get in to see Ellison?”
“When you wake up, go find the guard at the tunnel entrance and tell them you need to see her. They’ll radio her.”
“Okay, and after that, I’ll take you to the cave.”
“Cave?”
“Where I found the knife.”
He nods, looking down at his dirty bare feet. “I’m going to take a shower. Lock this door.”
I can’t help smiling at his brusque tone.
“What? Is that funny?”
“No, it’s just...nothing.” I slide my first boot off.
He leans his shoulder against the doorframe, his expression relaxing. “What?”
I give in, working on my second boot. “Have you always been so bossy?”
He scoffs, the corners of his lips easing dangerously close to a smile. “Actually, yeah. Used to be a quarterback.”
I arch my brows with surprise. I can see that. He most definitely has the body of an athlete.
“Professional?”
“Not quite,” he says with a smirk. “All-state in high school, and then I played all the way through college.”