Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
“That’s not the comfort you think it is.”
Wolf laughs. “We both know I’m capable of keeping her among the living. If I’m so inclined.”
“My last statement stands.” Malachi sighs. “But if you lay down a blood ward, I’ll consider myself comforted.”
Alarm blares through me. “No. Not another blood ward.” Not when one of those spells was responsible for keeping Malachi trapped in that rotting house for far too long.
“Don’t worry, love. I don’t know which one of my worthless cousins was greedy enough to be bribed by your father, but wards are capable of more than just containing. We can keep the enemy out with them.” He makes a face. “They’re not exactly fun to put in place, though, and feeding from you so soon after Rylan fucked things up is out of the question.”
Rylan startles. “That’s not—”
“Take the blood from me.” Malachi’s already turning for the door. “The faster we move on this, the better.”
“You’re no fun, old friend.” Wolf hops off the counter. “But you know what would make it more fun?”
Malachi’s sigh is fond. “We don’t have time for that.”
“There’s always time for that.”
I listen to them bicker as they move deeper into the house. Judging from the quick look I got at the layout when Malachi whisked me inside, they’re heading for the living room. It’s fully enclosed, without a single window, so the easiest to fortify. I hold out a hand when Rylan starts to follow them. “They’ve got this.”
“You don’t give me orders.”
I bite back a sigh. “No, I don’t give you orders. But they’re about to fuck, and unless you’re going to pull that stick out your ass and join in, you stalking after them is going to be distracting.”
Again, that tiny startle. He seems to give me his full attention. “It doesn’t bother you that they’re intimate when you’re not around.”
“Why would it? Their relationship predates me.” I pause. “So does yours.”
“Ancient history.” But the way he glances at the doorway gives lie to his words. I don’t know what happened with Malachi and Rylan. I haven’t asked, and neither of them has offered. Malachi and Wolf make more sense in my head. Theirs is a friendship that often includes sex, and they hold each other lightly in a way that suggests they aren’t heartbroken by the years they’ve spent apart. As if they’ve come together and parted over and over again through their lives. I don’t have confirmation, of course, but it’s there in the way they interact.
Rylan is different.
Wolf doesn’t seem to see me as a threat. I’m just another plaything for his amusement and pleasure when he’s around. Rylan looks at me as if I stole his only love.
Maybe I did.
“Rylan—”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Gods, you’re practically beaming your emotions into my brain. Stop it. I don’t want or need your pity.”
I close my eyes and try to shove the feeling away, grasping for something else to feel instead. Anger lingers just below the surface, just like it always does. I grab it with both hands and wrap it around me like a comforting blanket. When I open my eyes, he’s lost that nearly feral look. “Better?”
“Barely.”
I glare. “I didn’t know I was projecting my emotions. Malachi only just told me before we had to run.”
He shrugs, turning for the door. “It’s simply another burden to bear.”
That’s about enough of that. I grab Rylan’s arm. He’s too strong to move, so when I yank, I end up pulling myself forward instead of him back. He jerks away from me, but I’m not in the mood to let this conversation remain unfinished. I stalk him across the kitchen, barely aware that he’s retreating until I have him pressed against the counter.
Only then do I realize what I was doing.
I jerk back. “Sorry.”
Rylan catches my elbows, stopping me from backing up. “You want to be a predator? Stop second-guessing yourself.”
I yank, but he’s holding me too firmly. “I don’t want to be a predator.” I pull back again. Fail again. “Not with you three.”
“I don’t fucking understand you.” He says it so softly, I almost miss the words.
Just like that, my anger flares hot enough to scald. “Oh, because I’m not playing the part of the monster the way you want? Because I’m just as in over my head as the rest of you? Which part, Rylan? Please enlighten me so we can get past this bullshit.”
“There’s no getting past some things.”
We’re so close, we’re sharing the same air. I hate that I want nothing more than to press my body against his, to claim his mouth so I can swallow down his poisonous words, can take every part of him into me until we’re both a shaking mess.
I want to blame the bond for this. Surely I’m not so twisted as to desire a man that clearly hates me. Unfortunately, the truth is significantly less convenient. The bond is present, of course, but it’s not pulling at me the same way it did last night. I am firmly in control. Which means I have no one to blame but myself.