Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
“And what about the runes sprinkled all over campus?”
He smirks. “You noticed those, huh.”
“Kind of hard to miss.”
“Sigurd warded the whole university. He’s superstitious. Says they’re for protection.”
“Funny, who would he need protection from when he’s the villain?” I do laugh then. “Life is weird.”
He sets the runestone down by his feet, then heaves me up. I fall against his massive chest, but he shoves me away, then grabs for me as if remembering I just almost died. “Sorry, instinct.”
Yeah, I bet it is.
“No worries. I know you don’t like people touching you.”
“I’m only allergic to you. Everyone and everything else are fair game.” He starts walking. The gash on the back of his shoulder already looks better.
We walk in bitterly cold silence back to the car. We’re almost there when it starts to pour, hail and rain cascading from the skies as if nature’s angry we disturbed its peace.
Turnabout’s fair play, Mother Nature. You almost just killed me.
My teeth start to chatter as I get into Aric’s car. Between falling in the cave and the downpour, I probably have mascara streaming down my cheeks, stringy wet hair, and clothes plastered to my body in the most unflattering way.
Not that I want to look flattering to him.
At all.
Aric peels off his wet and bloody shirt, then grabs a duffel from the back seat.
“Here.” A towel gets tossed so hard my way, it smacks me in the head.
I grit my teeth. “Thanks.”
Do not look at his chest. Do not look at his abs.
But holy shit, since when did this guy get tattoos? I definitely didn’t see any in the spring yesterday. I can’t get a read on the one along his side. It seems like it’s faded or something. But the one on his back?
That one is most definitely a rune.
Raido.
What the hell?
He quickly drags a fresh black T-shirt over his head and stares me down. I feign ignorance, but my mind is racing. Surely, even though he’s sleeping, he knows how powerful runes are. Did Sigurd do it to him? It looked like two. My brain nearly explodes with possibilities.
Dressed again, Aric digs through his black duffel and pulls out two prescription bottles.
They’re the same ones from his room.
“What are those?” I ask, going for innocent.
“These”—Aric twists open a bottle of water—“are none of your business.” He tosses back one from each container, then puts the bag in the back seat. “We’ll wait out the storm here.”
“Because you want to extend our time together or because you’re too afraid to drive in the rain?” I ask. He’s not the only one who can do deadpan.
He leans over the steering wheel. “Three, two, one.” Immediately, the downpour increases, to the point that I can’t see anything through the windows. “I know my storms.”
Of course he knows storms.
Frost Giant.
“Neat trick,” I murmur. “How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”
“An hour, give or take. Storms like this don’t go that long, but people end up sliding off the roads up here. They forget that just because it isn’t icy doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous. It’s nature, after all.” He suddenly leans his seat back, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes. “I’m going to nap.”
“Did you just take sleeping pills?” I ask. How the hell long am I going to be stuck in here with him?
“Sleeping pills don’t help what I have. You’ll need to trust me on that one.”
“And what do you have?” I dig.
“Dreams,” he whispers. “Worse than you can even imagine.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Rey
Aric’s breathing evens.
I examine my fingernails like I’m making small talk and really couldn’t care less. “What sort of dreams?”
“Didn’t ask you to be my therapist.” His eyes are still closed. “What makes you think I would ever tell you anything? Your father deals in secrets. You’re his daughter, even if you’re as powerless against him as anyone else.”
I bristle. “I was just asking a question. You don’t have to insult me.” Or remind me of my place. I instantly think about the chessboard.
“It wasn’t a question. You forget who I am. My family is just as powerful as yours, Rey, just as dangerous in our own way. You, of all people, know how I was raised.”
“You talk a big game, but I highly doubt your upbringing was worse than mine.”
One eye opens. “My parents are gone. Dead. They’ll never see me graduate. Never celebrate a birthday or holiday or ask me how my day was again.” He stops, takes a small breath. “My mom was kind, Rey. Really sweet. She’d make me give her a hug each time I left the house. I can barely fucking remember what that feels like now.”
I jerk back. “The panic I would feel if my father actually attempted to hug me—he’s more likely to hold a knife to me.”
“I don’t remember my parents’ hugs anymore,” Aric says. “All I remember are my grandfather’s tears.”