Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Reese had gotten under my skin. I’d been so sure that something was wrong and the universe had epically fucked me, but I was beginning to wonder if I’d been the one who was wrong. She’d actually cut her arm in some misguided attempt to wake me up. And yes, it had helped, but it hadn’t been necessary. If someone had asked me the night before I would’ve guessed that Reese wouldn’t give a single fuck whether I lived or died. I hadn’t given her much reason to. For some reason, she seemed to care.
I couldn’t figure her out.
I’d been a dick, and to be completely honest, that was kind of my baseline. I didn’t like most people, and I had patience for even less of them. Beyond some fantastic orgasms, it’s not as if my presence improved her life any.
It was still early. We’d known each other for twenty-four hours and spent a lot of those hours apart, but in the last few, I’d developed an almost rabid need to be near her, and I didn’t think it was the bond. The fire was still present. I could feel my back growing damp beneath my t-shirt, but that didn’t explain the bit of relief I’d felt when she’d slid her hand into the neck of my shirt earlier or when she’d turned to comfort me when I hadn’t asked for it.
I’d even been grateful for her smart mouth when she’d started arguing with me, making Ambrose laugh. She cut the tension. It wasn’t appropriate. She was still obnoxious. But somehow, she’d also broken the ice when I’d felt like we were all trapped under it.
I walked around the living room and kitchen aimlessly, picking up the few things that were out of place. From what I remembered of Millie, she’d been soft. Soft-spoken and soft-hearted. I couldn’t imagine her even knowing that someone had been tortured, much less sitting through the family meeting that we’d just had. She’d have been sweet and comforting and unobtrusive—but she wouldn’t have cut through the tension. She wouldn’t have urged me to go with my brothers, knowing full well the kind of agony it would bring her.
Making the comparison made me feel lower than a snake, but it was impossible to ignore.
“I talked to Noah,” Reese announced as she strutted out of the bedroom. “He assumed that I was with you, so I’m not fired.”
“Were you worried you’d be fired?”
“No way,” she scoffed. “Mr. Miranda would divorce his ass. But I still figured they might be worried if I didn’t check in.”
“Was he worried?”
“Not at all,” she replied wryly. “Apparently, they’ve met your dad and liked him, so they assumed you weren’t a serial killer.”
“I’m not sure that logic is sound.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” She smiled gently. “How are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Shit downstairs got heavy.”
I shrugged, not really sure what to say. Was I okay? Not really. Would I survive? Obviously.
“Do you think they’ll be able to find your brother’s mate?” Reese asked softly.
“I hope so.”
“I’m sure they’ve got all kinds of gadgets to find out where that picture was taken.”
“Probably.”
“Do you wish you went with your brothers?”
I took her in, the messy hair and t-shirt, the white bandage wrapped around her arm, the way she’d braced the toes of one sock-covered foot on top of her other foot as she leaned against the doorframe.
“No.”
“You seem like an action type of guy,” she mused, straightening. “I can’t see you content to stay behind.”
“I’m needed here,” I replied as she walked toward me.
“Another reason for you to dislike me.” The words were light, but her eyes never left mine as if she was trying to read my answer before I spoke.
“I’m relieved, actually,” I said, surprised that the words were true. Did I wish I was helping my brothers find Zeke’s mate? Of course. But there was a sense of freedom in having a different responsibility.
The mate bond was my most sacred commitment, and no matter how I’d raged against it at first, the rightness of it was settling deep in my chest. Everything felt just slightly less important.
“I’m glad,” Reese said, pausing when our toes were nearly touching. “Because I’m starving, and I was worried that if I asked you to get me food, you’d be even more pissed.”
“Get your own food.”
Reese’s mouth dropped open in surprise.
“I’m joking,” I said quickly, reaching for her as she took a step backward. “Too soon? Fuck.”
“You were making a joke?” she said slowly, studying me like a bug under a microscope.
“Not a good one, obviously.”
Her lips twitched, and I let out a shallow breath of relief. “My brothers always tell me that my jokes are too dry.”
“Well, it can get confusing,” she said kindly, still studying me. “Trying to figure out when you’re actually being a dick and when you’re just pretending to be a dick.”