Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 234
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
He takes a breath. “What are you studying?”
“The development of structural proteins in the thymus,” I explain. “The thymus matures T cells, so it’s critical for our immune system and helping fight against disease. My biggest reason for even wanting to be a doctor is to help people. This is just another way to do that.” I take a small nibble from the bagel while I watch him process.
He’s quiet in his own contemplation before he says, “The whole world is filled with pain, and I’ve always believed it’s my responsibility to not cause more. Some people feel the same as me. Some people don’t. At the end of the day, everyone draws a line on what they’re willing and not willing to do. I get that. I’ve accepted that. Because I’m not perfect.” He pulls at his T-shirt. “It’s organic cotton, but it was shipped on a commercial airline to the store I bought it from. I fly private with my family at times. I could’ve dedicated my entire life to fighting for massive corporations to go green, some of which my parents own, but I haven’t done that because at times it feels like speeding into a brick wall. And then I think the person who can handle the repetitive crash, just to crumble a single brick, is better than me. Maybe they should’ve been born in my place. They would’ve been the Cobalt who could’ve made a greater, more positive impact on the world.”
I glance down at the bagel, then up at him. “I know with great power comes you-know-what, and Cobalts are said to be gods, but you don’t have to change the whole world for the better to be considered a good Cobalt. Just touching one person’s life is enough, Friend.” I bite my lip and add, “You’ve made mine better. For whatever that means to you.”
Ben hangs on to my words for a long beat. “It means a lot.” He breathes in strongly.
I breathe out.
And he says, “Perfect people don’t really exist, nor do I think they should. We all have different values because we’re human, so I won’t hate you for yours. I’m just glad to know them. I’m glad I know you.” He lets out a heavy breath before returning to the book. “Reperiō, reperīre, repperī, repertum.”
My brain is spinning, and I struggle to find the translation.
His blue eyes lift to mine. “Fisher?”
“I don’t know.”
He smiles softly. “Fourth conjugation. To find, discover. Learn. Get.”
I scowl, realizing he aptly picked it out. “I should have known that one.”
Ben deserts the book on the coffee table. Coming closer, he places a hand on my shoulder, the other on my flushed cheek. I have to look up to meet his gaze, my neck straining. He bends at his knees a little for me. The intimacy has my heart thumping. How did I deserve him? And why does he have to leave New York?
“You’re going to ace this test,” he tells me.
I grimace like he’s full of shit. “When I just got one wrong?”
“Yeah, because I know you won’t forget it now.”
He’s right. I won’t.
“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner about the research,” I whisper.
His gaze warms mine. “I’m sorry for judging you for it. I won’t do that again.” He brushes his thumb against the corner of my lip. Oh, he’s wiping away a little dab of cream cheese. I lick the rest, but his pretty boy smile is officially doing a number on my ovaries.
My body wants him.
I want him.
I hate that he checks his watch. I think I wouldn’t mind staying here with him and missing the exam altogether. It’s a scary thought. I’ve never flunked a test, let alone purposefully skipped one. “We have some time for more studying.”
“Or we could do other things,” I offer.
His expression turns heady at the mere insinuation of sex, and I feel his palm slide from my cheek to the back of my neck. It’s a sexy move that has my body tingling.
“We can’t. See, if you fail this test because of me, I would judge myself.” He backs away from me, but there’s a gnarled sound in his throat when he does. He returns to the book. “I’m going to need your help after you ace this thing.”
“With what?” I ask eagerly. He’s so quick to assist me in anything, and for someone who has all doors opened for him, it’s hard to find big opportunities to lend a helping hand.
“I can’t live with my brothers anymore,” he explains. “I need to find a new place to stay. Like STAT.”
It hits me that if he wants to leave his apartment asap, then his brothers must be failing at seducing him toward loving New York.
This is not good. The words taste bitter in my mouth, but I say them anyway. “Yeah, I can help.”