Total pages in book: 182
Estimated words: 165649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 828(@200wpm)___ 663(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 165649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 828(@200wpm)___ 663(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
“Say it, piŋe sarnanak, say my name. I wish to hear how it sounds coming from your lips.” His mouth was against her ear, his breath warm, teasing, wreaking havoc with the blood in her veins.
Elisabeta wasn’t certain she wanted to call him by his given name. “Ferro,” she said softly. “But you call me piŋe sarnanak. I think you are kont o sívanak, strong heart, and this songbird will learn to fly because you have a heart big enough for both of us.” She felt very daring to tell him what she was thinking.
Deep inside, she was desperate for it to be true. They were lifemates and she could look into his mind, but she wasn’t brave enough for that yet, nor was she strong enough, if he deliberately kept her out, to push beyond any shield. She had learned, over the centuries, to do so with Sergey, but subtly, so he was unaware. She had the feeling that Ferro would always be aware.
His teeth tugged at her earlobe and then released her just as abruptly, but not before the sudden gentle bite caused a spasm in her sex that sent a shock wave through her entire body.
“Take a look at these dresses. Lorraine, lifemate to my brethren Andor, had several books she called catalogues she allowed me to look through for clothing styles. She has been very helpful.”
Elisabeta tried not to stiffen at the underlying affectionate note she heard in his voice. Up until that moment, Ferro had little expression in his voice. It was by turns gentle or soft or commanding, but there was definite affection for this woman. Another woman. Not his lifemate. She didn’t like it.
His hand waved in the air and two dresses floated in front of her. She tried not to gasp, but—well—they were just a little bit formfitting. She had rarely been seen by anyone other than Sergey, and then he had covered her body in shapeless gowns. She’d never worn anything like either one of them. It wasn’t that they wouldn’t cover her adequately—they weren’t low in the front, they went to her ankles, and both had three-quarter-length sleeves—but they weren’t the shapeless, boxy dresses she was used to wearing.
One was a soft shade of cool forest green with accents of a lighter green in blocks on the bodice and skirt, the material thin and clingy, so she knew it would emphasize her curves. She was thin, and not all that curvy, so maybe her bones would show more than her curves, but it was still a little risqué.
The second dress was black with gray accents. It was also made of a soft material she’d never seen before. The bodice came to a vee at the waist and the skirt dropped in a series of lacy ruffles to the ankles. It was the bodice that gave her pause or she would have chosen it immediately. She wasn’t certain how comfortable she would be in a dress that clung to her body that closely.
Ferro didn’t hurry her. He waited patiently. In fact, he seemed more interested in her hair and the nape of her neck than he did the dresses and her dilemma. He kept distracting her with his breath, with his lips moving against her pulse, with the way his fingers on her skin and scalp felt, until she was desperate to stop the unfamiliar feelings he flooded her body with.
“The black-and-gray one,” she said. “I’ll wear that one.”
“Excellent choice.”
His large hands spanned her waist and he lifted her off his lap and to her feet, setting her to one side. When he stood, he was fully clothed. He waved his hand and she found herself in the long black-and-gray dress. The material clung, just as she knew it would.
“You look beautiful, Elisabeta. Are you used to wearing shoes at all?”
She looked down at her feet and shook her head. “I was never allowed to leave the cage for any length of time.”
He waved his hand again. “If these shoes become uncomfortable you are to tell me immediately. That is an order. Am I clear on that?”
She nodded and looked down at the slipper sandals on her feet. They were black and gray to match the dress she wore. She had no idea what they were made of, but it didn’t feel like stiff leather. Whatever it was, they were comfortable, and she wiggled her toes. His hand brushed hers. She looked up at him expectantly.
“Take my hand, piŋe sarnanak,” he said. “We’re going to walk around the compound together. I want to show you where everything is and where we’ll be staying.”
She blinked at him, trying to process what he’d just ordered her to do. What he’d just said. He wanted her to let him take her hand. He was going to walk with her and take her outside the safety of the healing grounds. Outside, where there were people. Walk. When she didn’t know how. She swallowed hard and tried to remember the mechanics. She’d seen it enough times. She was intelligent. She could shuffle along.