Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
That was what Morgaine looked like to me. Tall, willowy, with long, deep, shiny red hair she had around her shoulders, framing her gorgeous face with her light blue eyes.
“The chicken-tender,” I said, getting a surprised little burst of laughter from her.
“That’s me,” she agreed. “Can I come closer?” she asked, something in her hesitance, in her tone, making me think that she not only knew, but understood, had maybe even been in a similar situation as I had.
“Sure,” I said.
“I see Colter dropped by your door,” she said, eyeing the basket. “He somehow always knows exactly what you need, even when you aren’t aware of needing it. His gift makes mine look a little silly, but,” she said, holding up a mug I’d missed dangling from her hand. “Raff said you like coffee and books. So I made you this,” she said, holding it out to me, carefully making a space for me to grab it without having to touch her.
It was gorgeous in the way that only handmade pottery could be. Slightly imperfect in a charming way. She’d painted the whole thing to seem to have a woodgrain to it, then had painstakingly painted a row of books around it.
“Everyone here has their own mug that I’ve made them. It’s a thing. So now you do too.”
“That’s… this is beautiful,” I said, surprised to find my eyes getting teary. “Thank you so much.”
“Are your ears pierced?” she asked, making me startle.
“Ah, yeah,” I told her, watching as she went into her pocket to fish out a set of dancing earrings. They were, well, itty bitty vials with some sort of liquid in them.
“They’re plastic, so you don’t have to worry about breaking them accidentally,” she told me. “The liquid inside, well, let’s just say that, should you ever need it, each vial could kill a fucking elephant. So a man would be no issue,” she added, dropping them into my mug, making my brows raise. “Just a little drop in the mouth, nose, eyes, anywhere, really. And, poof, all your problems are gone. Anyway, I hear one of my children screaming. It was nice to meet you,” she said, making her way to the door without another word.
Huh.
Okay then.
I set the mug down, reaching for the earrings, feeling them in my hands, and deciding that they, along with the knife, would definitely make me feel safer the first time I went out to explore Shady Valley.
I carefully tucked them into the nightstand, though, not wanting Vernon to get to them.
By the time I finished with that, there was another knock at the door, this one a little harder, making me jump.
“Yeah?”
“Looks like most of the welcome party has already been here,” the pretty blonde said as she moved inside in her cargo pants and black tank top. Her features were pretty in a very feminine way, but she carried herself a little more ruggedly.
If I had to put money on it, I would bet this was Murphy.
“Morgaine and Nyx,” I said, nodding.
“And Colter, though he always places the basket and runs,” she told me, smiling a little. “I won’t bother you for long. I know everyone here can be a bit overwhelming,” she said. “I just wanted to bring you this,” she said, reaching for one of her deep pockets and pulling out, well, some sort of weapon.
“What is it?” I asked, brows pinched.
“Something I made. For people who don’t know how to use guns yet, but need something,” she told me. “The strap goes around your wrist, so you can’t lose it in a tussle. This button here,” she said, pointing, then pressing it, making it make a buzzing noise, almost like a downed wire, “will create a current about four times stronger than the shit most tasers emit. It will hurt. A lot. Trust me; I tested it on Sway,” she added, smirking. “It also has this feature,” she went on, taking a step back, and swinging the whole weapon hard, making a baton extend out from it. “Just don’t touch it,” she warned, moving it closer to my face, making me see it had little jagged razors along its entire length. “Use your shoe to push it back in,” she said, demonstrating, then tossing it on the bed. “I’m Murphy, by the way,” she said.
But then she was turning and disappearing as suddenly as she’d appeared.
I set her weapon on the nightstand then turned and sat, my head reeling.
They all knew.
I’d been under no delusions about that. Of course Riff would have told them about finding me, and in what condition I was in. Everyone from there would know exactly what happened. Because why else did a man keep a woman chained up in a shed?
The thing that struck me most, though, was that all these women seemed to intrinsically know that what I needed right now were ways to feel safe, to feel empowered. And that weapons were one way to do that.