Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
God. Has it been that long?
Probably.
The Forsaken took me…weeks ago. I was with them for weeks. I don't know how many. Time has no meaning when you're unconscious and drifting.
Why didn't they kill me?
I shy away from that question as I strip off my clothes, step into the cavernous shower, and turn the water as hot as it'll go. But even as steam envelops me, memories of the Forsaken claw at the edges of my mind, their ghostly whispers echoing in my ears. Panic climbs up my throat, pounding against my ribcage.
I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on the steady beat of the water against my back.
Breathe, Marion. Just breathe.
Gradually, the tension in my muscles eases, and I'm able to finish scrubbing the dirt and grime from my body.
Fifteen minutes later, I poke my head out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy towel, searching for Malachi. "I don't have anything to wear," I whisper when his eyes meet mine.
He nods to the floor beside the door. I glance down and see the pile of clothes stacked there.
Gratitude whispers through me as I lean down to scoop them up. "Thank you."
He grins at me.
I scurry back into the bathroom to dress, not sure I want to know whose clothes he gave me. But the T-shirt fits. I have to roll the sweats up at the waist once to keep from tripping on them, but they fit well enough. Like the T-shirt, the socks are a perfect fit.
I emerge from the bathroom feeling more human than I did when I went in, only to find Malachi waiting for me, a tray laden with steaming dishes balanced on one broad forearm.
"Figured you were hungry," he says, his lips quirking into a grin.
My stomach growls in response, and I realize just how hungry I am. I don't remember the last time I ate or what I ate. I know the Forsaken woke me periodically to force food down my throat. But most of my time with them is a haze. I don't understand why they even bothered.
Why did they need me alive? What do they want from me? I think this man might have the answers. I'm just not entirely sure I'm ready to hear them.
I climb back into bed, dragging the blankets up over my legs. Malachi waits until I'm settled and then places the tray on my lap, his gaze locked on me.
I should feel overwhelmed by his presence, by the sheer intensity of his gaze and the way he watches me so intently. Instead, I find it comforting. It's as if nothing can touch me so long as he's near.
I'm not sure what that means, but I like it.
As I take a tentative bite of the stew, I steal a glance at him. There's something about him…it's like he's tugging at the depths of my soul every time his eyes meet mine. He's familiar in a way that makes my heart race, new in a way that sends shivers down my spine.
And when he touched me earlier…what? What was that? For a moment, it was almost as if I felt his desire, a pulsing, primal force burning brighter than the sun. But that's impossible…isn't it?
Ha. After everything I've witnessed, everything I've endured, can I really be sure of anything anymore? The old rules, the truths I once clung to…they seem to make less sense with each passing second. For all I know, everything I thought I knew about the world was a lie.
"How long have I been here?" I ask after a moment, just to hear his voice again.
His brow furrows, a shadow passing over his chiseled features. "We found you three days ago," he says.
"Do you know how long…?"
"Nei, Valkyrie," he murmurs, his hand twitching as if he longs to reach out and comfort me. "We don't know how long they had you."
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "What's the date?"
He hesitates for a moment. "September 18th."
"Six weeks," I whisper. "They had me for six weeks, at least."
Something perilously close to fury burns in his gaze as he watches me, his jaw clenched tight. "Do you remember anything from your time with them?"
"Not much." My fingers tighten around the spoon, my appetite vanishing. "They k-kept me drugged."
"Do you remember how you ended up in their hands?"
The memories hit me like a tidal wave, jagged and brutal. I remember that part all too well. My parents sacrificed their lives to save me…and I ended up in Forsaken hands anyway.
Tears sting my eyes, and I quickly shake my head, not ready to talk about it yet. Not ready to think about it yet.
"I don't…I'm not…"
"Easy, Valkyrie," he murmurs, leaning closer, his brows knitted together. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to tell me."
"They killed my parents," I whisper, staring into the bowl. "I'm not…"