Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
His kiss turned languid before he backed off, both of us breathing heavily.
“Good morning,” I finally managed. “Sleep well?”
His smile tightened me up all over again. It was a great time for this midlife lady to be hitting her sexual peak. Although…I guess I was no longer middle-aged. Thanks to Ivy House magic, I didn’t have an expiration date anymore. The only way I’d exit this life was by murder. And if I shared the fate of the past Ivy House heirs, my murder would be gruesome and at the hands of my mate.
Luckily, I hadn’t chosen a young, power-hungry jerk who would try to steal my magic and take my life in the process. Austin didn’t even want what was offered, which was the protector’s magic. That magic was supposed to boost his power and likely his speed and strength. He’d be like a super shifter, or so everyone guessed. But he didn’t want the baggage that came with it. He said he had enough darkness swirling within him—he didn’t need to add my gargoyle’s brand of dark violence.
I definitely saw his point. When my primal urges rose to the surface, I wasn’t exactly stable…
“How about some breakfast?” he asked.
I smiled. “Yes, please.”
He kissed me one last time before getting out of bed.
“Do you want a day off from cooking?” I asked, swinging my feet over the edge of the mattress before standing. “Mr. Tom would be all too happy to come in and take care of it.”
He paused with his boxers in his hand. The flat look he gave me spoke volumes.
I laughed and threaded my arms around his middle. “I feel bad that you’ve been cooking so much for me. You never let me help.”
“You hate helping, and I love cooking for you. It’s not a chore, baby. You know that.”
“I know, but…” I paused as he kissed my forehead before moving away to finish getting dressed. “Usually I don’t spend so much time over here.”
“I like that you’re spending so much time over here.” He stepped into a pair of sweats. “And I really like the way you look at me when I’m cooking.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I turned away and grabbed some underwear and sweats from the drawer he’d given me for my things.
It was true. I’d always dreamed of having a man cook for me, and Austin had the added benefit of being incredibly hot. Cooking shows had always bored me, but to this one, I was riveted.
That wasn’t why I was spending so much time over here, away from Ivy House.
Another flurry of emotions rocked me.
He paused, his gaze turning intense.
He knew this surge of anxiety wasn’t about the challenge later today. He could feel through the bonds that this unease was rooted more deeply, the implications more extreme. He also knew from experience that I didn’t want to talk about it. That I used the dreaded “I’m fine” when he asked.
But honestly, what was there to talk about? I didn’t know what was causing this rush of anxiety. This was different than the crazy, violent side of my gargoyle, but it still seemed primal somehow. I just had this horrible feeling that danger loomed heavy around me. It crouched in the shadows, waiting to strike.
I had no proof. In the three weeks since Elliot Graves’s meetup, all had been quiet on the mage front. Rumors about my magic and power level abounded on magical social media, but there was no speculation about what might happen next. I’d received no threats nor any invitations from mages. It seemed as though life was continuing as normal.
Until I set foot on Ivy House soil. And then, suddenly, it felt like storm clouds were drifting in, carrying disaster within them. It felt like a drum beat through me, warning of danger, urging me to take arms, preparing me to fight.
But was that actual danger or just this blasted gargoyle freaking me the hell out? Like when that random guy at the bar patted Austin on the back in thanks for a free beer—throwing said guy across the room and against the wall hadn’t been rational. Not even remotely. And neither was this situation. There had been no warning signs. No one had snuck in to attack. There hadn’t been any word from the Mages Guild, either requesting information concerning Graves or just wanting to make contact. There was absolutely no reason to feel worried, especially since it had only been three weeks. Three weeks of rumors did not a panic situation make.
So yeah, to avoid the feeling of impending doom, not to mention Ivy House harping on about accepting the gargoyle’s inherent craziness, I avoided the place. I stayed at Austin’s, where my gargoyle was (mostly) soothed, the environment was tastefully decorated and incredibly comfortable, and my hot boyfriend turned mate cooked for me and pampered me and made love to me.