Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 192810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 964(@200wpm)___ 771(@250wpm)___ 643(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 964(@200wpm)___ 771(@250wpm)___ 643(@300wpm)
She cleared her throat and added a sniff.
Aleksei let her go, skated an affectionate glance across mine, and turned to Terrinton.
“And allow me to present the man of the hour. Terrinton, this is a good friend of mine, Sirk Parrin, and as you heard, Laura Makepeace and Gayle Vinestrong.”
“Both like sisters to Catla Truelock,” Sirk added.
Terrinton, who was human, short of stature, had a shock of gray-white hair that had been haphazardly slicked back at the top and sides, but was dry, unruly and fluffing out around his neck and the frayed collar of a much-worn shirt. His eyes were faded blue. His skin was lined. The top of his head barely came to Aleksei’s shoulder. And he appeared to be a man who enjoyed the peaceful countryside with a hobby of whittling, not one who created controversial masterpieces of color, shape and form, who’d been the darling and devil of the art world for the last five decades.
In fact, he appeared to be a man who wanted more than anything to be absolutely anywhere but here.
He dipped his chin to both of us, then his gaze skittered away, caught on something, and he shrunk into himself.
I glanced to where his eyes skittered, saw someone on the approach, no…on a determined approach, and I immediately forged toward him.
He recoiled from me as well, but I ignored that, linked arms, and announced, “If you’ll excuse us, I’m dying for an explanation of a certain piece.”
I caught Aleksei’s thoughtful expression aimed at me before I drew the elderly man away.
I tipped my head toward his as I semi-dragged, semi-walked him toward a piece installed on a wall opposite Aleksei. “I think you may know how to do this, but just in case it’s been a while. Conference in with me, like we’re engrossed in something immensely important, and hopefully no one will be rude enough to interrupt.”
We stopped in front of what appeared to be a gazillion old-fashioned smoked cigarette butts, all of them scrunched dead at their filters. These were nestled in a bed of gray ash and pressed between matte and glass.
It was ugly, horrid.
And amazing.
But my mind was mostly on how Cat didn’t realize this guy needed a minder.
“Do you have someone who—?”
“She needed to use the toilet,” he said in a quiet, timid voice. “Catla summoned the prince, thinking he’d keep the wolves at bay.”
“Something he did, until we showed up, opening the seal,” I deduced.
He shrugged uncomfortably.
“Sorry about that,” I muttered.
“You’re mates. If you didn’t come to him, he would have left me where I stood and prowled the room until he could get to you.”
I jolted before I turned to stare down at him.
“You know?” I whispered.
His faded eyes came to mine. “I’m an artist, Ms. Makepeace. I feel everything.”
“Of course,” I murmured.
“He tensed, I suspect the minute you entered the gallery. He only relaxed after you rounded the first installation and came into view.”
Although this both moved and staggered me, I went to release Terrinton’s arm. “Oh gods, am I burning you?”
He laughed shortly, finally seeming to relax.
“My dear, I am no threat to that beast.” I realized his eyes might be faded, but the intelligence behind them wasn’t. “I expect you’re a much better minder. His mark is so strong, no one will get near you, male or female, unless they were someone like me, or your friends. I take it your acquaintance is new?”
I nodded to confirm this.
“I would take heed and settle quickly,” he advised. “The prince is not the kind of male to allow this intensity to falter. You two will be facing your final days decades from now, and the heat of his possession would burn through legions.”
I felt my heart roll over at his words but admitted, “I didn’t even realize we were mates. He had to tell me.”
He patted my hand on his arm. “Well done, Ms. Makepeace. Fate may have decided you belong to each other, but he’s a male who doesn’t respect something unless he earns it…or wins it. If you were to fall at his feet, he would accept you as his fate, it would make him happy, but it wouldn’t fulfill his needs.”
This was not good news.
“It didn’t take me long to fall at his feet,” I shared.
“Nor did it take you long to snatch me and leave his presence. I’d say that’s happened to him very few times in his life. Perhaps…none,” he returned.
“I wasn’t—”
He patted my hand again. “Your heart is kind. He won’t have missed that either. You still left him. Turned your back and walked away.” He smiled, exposing very big, very healthy, very white teeth in his tanned, leathered face. “I would suggest you keep him on his toes, but I believe you’ll do that anyway.” He tipped his head to the cigarette piece. “Now, is there a reason you brought me to this one?”