Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
I wish myself beside him and land practically on top of him. What the heck am I doing? Wishing myself way too close to him, that’s what. I try to step back and stumble on a stupid rock. Micah’s arm wraps around me, catching me before I fall, the rush of awareness between us unnerving in how impossible it is to ignore.
“I think I can guess what you wished for,” he says, a twinkle in his gorgeous eyes.
“To be up top with you.”
His lips curve in a smirk that tells me his mind is in the gutter. I smack his arm. “On top of the cliff,” I amend, pushing against him, but he doesn’t let me go, his mood shifting with a gust of wind.
“You did good with the crab, Ember. You fought, and you made adjustments.” He sets me away from him, but his hands settle on my shoulders. “Always go for the throat and eyes.” And just like that, we’re back to business. The business of fighting demons. “If I’m soft on you, you die. If I push your limits, you might just live.”
“By calling me a monster?”
“I didn’t call you a monster, but there will be many who call you just that and more. And you cannot buckle under their war cries.”
“Did I look like I buckled when I fought that crab? I would have survived without you.”
“The crab was an obvious threat. Everyone who steps in your path will not be.”
“I’m being trained by a man destined to kill me, Micah, so I’m aware of the threats around me. And yet, I kissed you and called you for help. Maybe you’re right. I need to be more careful. So, thank you. I also need to be reminded of the façade of safety you’ve managed to give me when you plan to kill me.”
“That is not my plan.” There’s a rough, tormented quality to his voice I feel to my soul. Whatever this is between us, neither of us wants it to be death.
“But you will if I become like him. And it’s the right thing. I want you to kill me if that’s what I become, but crazy as it sounds, I still hate you for it.”
He drags me to him, his hard body flush with my softer one. The scent of him, the heat of him, the rush of power and magic that is him, weakens my knees, if not my anger. “I do not want you to hate me, Ember. Hate is not what is between us.”
“And yet, we both radiate there, to the hate, for one reason,” I say, my fingers curling on his chest. “It would be easier for you to kill me that way.”
“That’s not how you end. And that’s not where we end. You will defeat the serpent.”
“Yes,” I declare. “Yes, I will. And when I do, will you stop being an asshole?”
He laughs, low and rough, and his hand slides over my hair. “Doubtful, but I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” His thumb strokes over my lower lip. “I’m going to kiss you now. Don’t stab me like you did the crab.”
“Don’t make me want to,” I whisper, and I’ve barely spoken the challenge before his mouth is on my mouth, and he’s tasting me with unrestrained, burning passion. And for this splinter of time, he is mine and I am his. There is no serpent, no army of demons, no war beyond the seductive play of our tongues, and I moan with the intensity of what I feel in him, what he unleashes in me.
He kisses me like I’m the last breath he’ll ever draw into his lungs, the last drop of water left in the vast oceans of the world. He kisses me as if I’m a part of him he cannot lose, and for the first time in my life, I am lost and found in a man. I wrap my arms around him and press into him, needing to feel him closer. I need and need and need some more where Micah is concerned. He will surely be the death of me, but in this moment, I don’t even care. His palm caresses up my spine, fingers splaying between my shoulder blades, and I’m already there with him, arching into him, my breasts pressed to his chest.
We walk backwards, and I end up pressed to a rock, resting against it, him draped over me, his hand covering my breast, mine stroking the hard ridge of his shaft. He groans and captures my wrists with one powerful hand, pressing them over my head as if he needs to control me to control himself. His free hand presses under my shirt, peeling back my bra, fingers curling roughly around my nipple.
I pant with the pinch of pain and pleasure and arch into the touch, my sex clenching, aching. “Micah,” I whisper, a plea in his name. “I want—”