Total pages in book: 207
Estimated words: 196971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 985(@200wpm)___ 788(@250wpm)___ 657(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 985(@200wpm)___ 788(@250wpm)___ 657(@300wpm)
Sir Reginald was visibly fuming, and her unease grew. She turned to the marquis, but he only responded to her warning glare with a roguish smile.
Liquid heat ran through her body, and she looked away again. Arrogant boor. But the thought lacked heat, and the way her heart was racing so fast made it worse.
“May I have your word as a gentleman on this, sir?”
She took one look at the knight’s face and knew he hadn’t bought one word of it.
And if she let him speak, then they would end up dueling, and it would not be an even match at all. Sir Reginald might be the reigning champion in the city’s sporting hall, but he was still a man. A child even, compared to the likes of Ilie Marcovici.
Sir Reginald began, “You, milord—-”
“—-are telling the truth,” Soleil heard herself say, and she forced herself to meet Sir Reginald’s gaze. He looked crushed, and her conscience stung painfully. “I’m sorry, sir.” As she spoke, the marquis casually took hold of her hand.
For one moment, she froze, the scorching heat of the contact stunning her.
Ilie saw shock flare in his heartkeeper’s eyes and could not fault her. He was similarly stunned as well, only he was better at hiding it.
Merely holding her hand was an exquisite pleasure, and he could not help think of the other and equally pleasurable parts he could touch. He was suddenly impatient, and he looked at Soleil, his eyes boring through hers.
Get rid of him, or I will.
She jumped in her seat at the sudden sound of the marquis’ cold voice inside her head.
Oh, she had forgotten about this stupid blood bond between heartkeepers!
The command still ringing in her ears, Soleil had an inexplicable urge to defy the marquis, just to show him she wasn’t going to submit to him so easily.
But then she saw the marquis glance at Reginald, and this time he was no longer looking at the knight as a mortal to be tolerated. This time, the marquis was looking at the other man the way predators mercilessly viewed their prey—-
An image flashed in her mind, sent by the marquis.
He was in his wolf form, and he was crushing the knight’s ribs under his paws before his viciously sharp canines tore the man’s throat—-
The image vanished, and the marquis murmured, “Lady Soleil? You have something else to say?” He smiled at her, and she could almost imagine his fangs flashing.
I won’t warn you again, milady. His thumb rubbed across her knuckles, his touch possessive, tender, and hot.
It was also extremely distracting, and Soleil had a hard time finding the right words to say. Her attention kept straying to the way the marquis’ touch made her feel. A part of her was lost in a daze.
The Marquis di Lunare, the man fated to share her soul, was holding her hand.
“Milady?”
The hopeful look in Sir Reginald’s eyes sent her crashing back to earth, and Soleil swallowed. “Lord Ilie and I have an understanding, sir. I am so sorry if—-”
“There is nothing to apologize for, milady.” His cheeks were flushed with a mixture of resentment and shame, and he was unable to meet her gaze. “I was the one who misunderstood.”
This was her fault, she thought, cringing. News of today’s incident was sure to spread like wildfire, and she wouldn’t be surprised if they were the talk of the town by tonight. The thought made her feel resentful herself, and Soleil unthinkingly tried yanking her hand away.
But the marquis’ grip only tightened, with just enough strength to remind her that she was fighting a futile battle.
Remember what I am, ma lisse. His voice was gentle, but possessiveness still threaded through it.
She ceased her struggle, not because he had reminded her of his otherworldly bloodlines, but because of what he had called her.
Ma lisse.
My lily.
He had called her ‘his lily.’
Again, the odd urge to laugh struck her. Did he remember what she was as well? Did he remember that she was, for all intents and purposes, a professional killer?
Yes, I remember, the marquis answered calmly.
Oh! He had read her mind. She had forgotten about that ability of his, curse it.
Sir Reginald was bidding her farewell now, and she mustered a smile.
“Will I see you at the Delsey’s ball tonight?”
Not if he’s there, the marquis said silkily.
“I’m not quite sure,” she said vaguely.
The other man’s smile dimmed, and it was only then that she realized he had seriously carried a torch for her. “Goodbye then,” Sir Reginald said, his normally strong clear voice turning into a mumble unworthy of his stature.
Oh, how dreadfully insensitive she was. Regret filled her as she watched him turn away and leave. She bit her lip hard, wondering if she had been too callous. Maybe she should just go to the Delsey’s ball, after all—-