Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
She doesn’t fling her arms out or bolt upright like most would at such an unexpected interruption. Rather, her eyes fly open and she looks around, her body still. I wave a hand at her in the darkness.
I’m rewarded with the charming scowl I’d hoped for. “It’s dark out.” Her voice is a low whisper. “What do you want?”
“I think we should get out of here for training before someone else tags along.” I thumb a gesture at the two bunks at the far end of the room, indicating Arrod and Hemmen.
Her eyes widen and she sits up, nodding. Gwenna grabs her bag and pads away to the garderobe, no doubt to change into her uniform. I dress, too, but it’s easier for me because I don’t care if the others see me naked. Once I tuck in my guild shirt, I fasten the lightweight fledgling sash to my shoulder. It feels odd, given that I’ve been used to wearing my regular artificer sash with its many pins denoting the discoveries I’ve made. I’m eager to have it back.
When I’m ready, I glance over at the other beds. Kipp’s bed is empty and neatly made, and I suspect I’ll find him in the kitchen again. Beyond his bed is Hemmen’s bunk, with its occupant snoring and clutching a book to his chest, two others by his pillow. On his other side is Arrod, who sleeps sprawled on his belly, still dressed in last night’s clothing. Guessing from his appearance, he reeks of alcohol and late-night choices.
Good. If he’s nursing a hangover, it means he’ll leave me and Gwenna alone. I don’t want either of them tagging along.
I shut the doors to the sleeping quarters with a gentle hand and head for the kitchen. I run into Gwenna in the hall, and she quickly deposits her bag just outside the room before marching back to the kitchen. I follow her, amused at her authoritative manner. She bustles about in the kitchen, slicing bread and fruit. Then she hands me one plate and adds a bit of honey to hers. “We’ll eat a quick bite first, if that’s all right.”
The plate she gave me is full of fruits and nuts and a huge chunk of bread. I grin at her because she’s already memorized what a Taurian likes to eat. She’ll make a good mate to someone someday. Then I squash that thought because she wants to be an artificer, and most men won’t want their wife to work. They’ll expect her to make a home and produce babies. She needs to marry an artificer if she marries anyone, I decide. Someone who understands the job and won’t expect her to put aside her wants and needs for him. She needs a Taurian, who will appreciate her generous curves and tart tongue.
But when I mentally go through the list of Taurians in the guild, I find myself growing jealous at the thought of one of them getting Gwenna’s smiles.
Sarya, I remind myself. You want Sarya.
I’m starting to wonder if I do, though. I don’t know anything about her other than she was bossy in bed and didn’t pause at my knot or my size. She might hate animals, or she might eat nothing but red meat. She might be one of those types that interrupts a person all the time, or insists on being right in every conversation. I don’t know her even though we had intense, explosive sex.
Perhaps I’ve been chasing after the wrong woman all this time. But it’s not as if I should be chasing Gwenna right now, either. She’s a fledgling in my Five and off-limits until we graduate.
Perhaps my cock needs to calm the muck down. But it’s my nature to constantly be thinking about sex, given that the god’s hand is always upon me. The potion quiets some of the constant need, but when it wears off, my thoughts veer in sultry directions, and right now, I’m appreciating Gwenna as she slices a bit more bread, her arse outlined deliciously by her guild pants.
“Kipp’s asleep,” she whispers as she takes her plate and sits next to me at the table. “I cut him up some breakfast, too. Hopefully he’ll get to it before the others wake up.”
I grunt and eat my food, staring at my plate because I want to watch her eat and I know I shouldn’t. If she licks her fingers once, I’m going to grab her and pull her pants down.
And mucking hells, where did that idea come from? I shove the last of my bread into my mouth and gesture at the hall. “Hitting the necessary first.”
I go into the garderobe and stare at the last bit of my potion, considering. Do I take it? Or do I continue to have filthy thoughts about the wrong woman? In the end, I put the potion back in its hiding place under the sink and splash cold water on my face instead. I’ll be cranky as all hells, but I won’t be numb below the waist, at least.