Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“It worked for a little while,” I whisper. “Did you make this?”
“Yes. I won’t need to work with iron or surround myself with it now. I want to make more high-end, lasting pieces. This is my first one.” He lifts the key and it seems to sparkle in the low light as it swings back and forth. “You unlocked the chains of my family’s past. Freed me.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head like he can’t come up with the right words. “You’re the key to my happiness.”
“You really mean that?” I ask, hating the pitiful note in my voice.
“Yes,” he says automatically without hesitation.
The block of fear in my chest slowly crumbles.
I sit up, turning my back to Declan and pull my tangled hair to the side. He slips the chain around my neck, and his warm fingers brush my skin, sending decadent little shivers down my spine.
“Thank you.”
He drags a gentle kiss along my shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
I pick up the pendant and study the design. “It’s beautiful. Simple and elegant.” I let it dangle for a moment and…that’s all it does. “Best of all, it doesn’t seem to have a mind of its own.”
Instead of laughing, he kisses my shoulder again. “I love you, Emery.”
He said it again. I whip around so fast, I almost elbow him in the ribs.
That’s what this is. The empty part of my chest that feels warm and full when he’s around. “I love you too.”
He seals his lips against mine, slow and sure. There’s nowhere else either one of us needs to be. Nowhere else I want to be.
I melt against him, the key warm against my chest, solid and unmoving. No twitching to get close to Declan. Just decoration.
The floor creaks overhead and I wince. “Oh, boy. Wren probably got an earful. She’s going to do her best to drag as many details as possible out of me.”
“Details, huh?” He doesn’t seem thrilled about the idea.
I dip my hand under the sheet and trace my fingers over his thigh. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone about your piercings. They’re my favorite secret. And all mine.”
“Yes, they are,” he says in a solemn tone.
“Can I confess something?” I ask, pulling away slightly.
His eyes widen; he drops his gaze to the sheet as I pull my hand out and slowly nods.
“It’s nothing bad,” I hurry to add. “I didn’t have any of those…visions just now.” My gaze drifts to the center of the mattress. “When you made me come.”
He blows out a relieved breath. “Good.” His eyebrows pinch together. “That’s the confession?”
I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “No. I…a tiny part of me was worried that maybe the ridiculous attraction I feel for you, that pull, was because of the mark.”
He stares at me for a few beats. “I’ll be honest, I was concerned about that too.”
“Really?” That’s a relief. I press my hand to my chest. “It’s still there. The second I saw you, I felt it. It’s genuine. All me. Wanting you.”
“I want you too. No magic. Just us.” A cocky expression slides over his face. “You really didn’t see anything?”
Oh hell. He’s earned the right to be a little cocky. “Nope.” I hold up my hand as if I’m about to swear on a stack of holy books. “The only thing you made me see is stars.”
EPILOGUE
Declan
Eight months later…
The stencil paper crinkles under my thumb as I peel it back and press it against Emery’s inner forearm.
She’s sitting in my chair with her chin tipped down, watching my every movement.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Nothing.” I smooth the stencil again, wanting everything lined up right. Perfect for her. “I just want it placed correctly.”
“It’s a crow. He can be a little crooked.”
“You obviously haven’t dealt with a lot of moody artists,” I murmur. “We’re a meticulous sub-set of creatives.”
She laughs, her body rippling with the movement.
“Stay still,” I warn.
“I guess you’re right.” She tilts her head and taps her chin. “You’ll have to look at it every day. And knowing you, if you perceive any mistakes, you’ll obsess over them endlessly.”
“Great. New fear unlocked.” I flick my gaze up to hers. “Thanks.”
This was a mistake.
I’m friends with plenty of talented artists. I could’ve asked any one of them to do this piece for Emery. But then someone else would be touching her skin. I’d lose my mind, fantasize about murder, and end up doing the ink anyway.
“You’re sure about the placement?” I ask her for the thousandth time this week. “This is a sensitive spot.” I trace one finger from her elbow to pulse point. “It won’t tickle.”
Jaw set in a brave line, she nods once. “I’m sure.”
A few hours later, the steady drone of the needle fills the room.
Emery’s still in my chair. Her body’s tight with tension, like it’s taking all her strength to sit still and not squirm.