Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
“Oh.” She left it in the bowl, unfolded a thick and soft cloth she’d found in a cabinet, and picked up the water skin. “Can I use this water to wash your back, or does it have to be boiled first to get rid of all the bacteria? If the latter, I’m going to need more supplies because I don’t know how to make fire with just sticks. Zorn has always been very verbal in his frustration about that fact.”
He started to shake silently again before taking a deep breath. Stop. Please stop. You’re killing me. And yes, you can use the water as it is. Water in Faerie is safe for all species to drink, directly from the source.
Tarian sat on the dusty, dirty floor with Daisy kneeling behind him. She told him the story as she squeezed water over his skin, watching it run in rivulets down his tattoos and tense muscles. Her knuckles occasionally grazed his skin, eliciting goosebumps across his body.
He stayed stoic through the process but didn’t speak while it was happening, very likely trying to handle the pain. The good news was that almost all the oozing had stopped. What was persistent was mostly blood, the wounds surely clean of poison at this point.
She took the flower, working in the balm with her fingertips, slow and gentle, careful not to hurt him. She worked the gel-like substance across his back. When she got to his neck, his head lolled forward. His breathing softened, now more controlled. He was clearly enjoying the sensations. Her touch.
“Is it helping?” she asked, her voice not much more than a whisper.
“Very much,” he replied in an equally soft tone. “Tell me again what that voice sounded like.”
“Felt like, actually—”
She cut off as her fingers ran over something hard on the back of his right shoulder, about an inch in diameter. Looking closer, she saw it was an octagonal shape and smooth and shallow, but not skin. Not ink, either, though the color was almost identical. When it caught the light, it glittered.
“What is this?” she asked, seeing four more evenly spaced across the shoulders and upper back. She traced the others, feeling a current within her fingers.
His reply was so low she barely heard. “Obsidian.”
His court. Where he was an assassin and an errand boy and apparently a captive, and she would be a plaything. Maybe a dangerous toy.
She pushed the reality of their situation away. She was too exhausted to think about it. To worry about it. She needed rest. Sleep. She needed a fucking break, and she’d only get it if she hurried this along and finished up.
22
“Okay.” She finished his arm and plopped down next to him, holding up her hands to look at the gel-like substance coating her fingers. The bowl still had a bit of the amazingly bountiful flower left. “I guess we have some to reapply should we need it.”
She looked up to ask if it would be safe for humans, but the words died on her lips when she met his eyes, so deep, so beautiful. Vibrant, like the memories he shared. Like his humor. The red circling his iris was gone, only burnished gold remaining. The soft glow illuminated his handsome face and lush, full lips.
Thank you. His mental voice was a whisper, but it still relayed his heartfelt sentiment. His gratitude.
“You saved me. It was only right that I help you.”
I got you into this in the first place. I put you in danger by forcing you into the catacombs. Into the wylds. You could’ve let me suffer. You could’ve held off and only stepped in if I would actually die. You should’ve, probably. Instead you risked your life to ease my pain. You constantly surprise and amaze me, Daisy. You think of yourself as black-hearted and morally bankrupt, but you’re not. You’re good at your core. You are the best of your kind. The very best.
She was frozen for the second time that night as he leaned forward slowly, his deep gaze opening her up inside. Her stomach fluttered. His eyes were hooded as he neared. She swayed, pulled toward him like a magnet. Her eyes were trained on his lips. He reached for her with his good hand and gently cupped her face in his large palm.
Their lips met softly at first, tentatively. Exploring. Their mouths moved together, savoring each other’s tastes, the electric feel of their touch. Slowly, it deepened, the intensity growing. Passion mounted. His hand slipped down to the side of her neck. She lightly touched his jaw, his stubble scratching her skin.
A spark ignited. The world outside faded away. Her breath quickened, mingling with his. His tongue met hers, dancing at first, then a slow, purposeful thrust.
Her hands fell to his chest, meeting his warm skin. His slipped around to the back of her neck, pulling her in a little harder. Their kiss turned fervent. Her palms dropped farther, as did his hand. Her hunger for his touch grew. She wanted his weight to settle over her body. Wanted—