Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
But then she gets up and walks away, and her rounded bottom flashes at me. There is still wetness between her thighs from our recent mating, and I am still possessive drakoni enough to see it and want to hold her down and push my seed back into her with my claws, to make her take all of me. To claim her in every way.
But I have harmed her. I do not deserve her.
Emma returns from an adjacent area of the nest—the kitchen, according to her thoughts—and brings with her a bowl of water and towels. She seems happy, as if my presence alone brings her joy.
You are pleased, I venture, gauging her reaction. Why?
“Why am I pleased? Seriously?” Emma’s chuckle is hauntingly beautiful. She is so full of joy, my mate. I love that about her. “Because you’re awake for the first time in days and you’re not burning up with fever? That means I didn’t kill you with my terrible nursing, after all.” She dunks a cloth into the water and then wrings it out. “To say I’m relieved would be a gross understatement.”
She is relieved that I am alive…even after I harmed her. Strange. I wish for the death of those that tried to harm her. How can she so easily forgive? I remain still as she places the wet cloth on my back. The coolness of the water feels good against the rawness of my skin. My thoughts…they are confused. I do not remember much.
“It’s okay,” she says, gently swiping at my back with the wet cloth. “I’ve had things under control.”
Have you truly? Her easy words about control just increase my guilt. You are bruised. I hurt you. I cannot stop the thoughts from pouring forth, nor the shame I feel at admitting such a thing. I am not worthy of being your mate.
“Hurt me?” Her brow wrinkles as she gazes down on me. “You mean the stitches?” She touches her hairline. “Those have been there for days. It was Sasha that beaned me, not you.”
Not that. Your arms. Your legs. You are covered in marks.
She looks down, surprised, and then gives a little laugh. “Oh. Those. I fell. Actually, I fell quite a bit while you were unconscious. One of these apartments has soggy stairs and I crashed through. Plus, you’re not exactly the easiest man to wheelbarrow across the city.” Her smile is bright and friendly, open.
I search her thoughts, looking for blame or anger. There is none. I did not harm you, then?
Her eyes widen in surprise, as if such a thing didn’t occur to her. “Never! I admit I was a little freaked out when you snapped and dragged me through the city, bleeding everywhere and refusing to talk to me. If we could skip a replay of that, that’d be great.” She reaches over and pats my forearm. “But don’t worry. You didn’t hurt me. If you did, I would have abandoned your ass,” she says tartly. There is amusement in her tone. “Nor would I have spent hours on end stitching you up in the hopes that it’d make a difference.” Her expression grows soft and worry flows through her thoughts. “Your wings…”
They are gone. I know this. It was a necessary sacrifice to keep you safe. I am pained at their loss, but I have my mate at my side and she is whole. I cannot dwell on what I have lost. Emma is teaching me every day that I must look to what I do have and not dwell on what I do not. It does not matter.
She looks upset at my words. “It matters to me. You hurt yourself trying to save me. And now I worry you won’t be able to fly again.” Her mouth firms, and she gives me a determined look. “Maybe they’ll heal up enough that you can still fly. We just have to give it time.”
I do not know if I believe her. Right now, my back feels like a mass of fire. We shall see.
“Do you remember anything about that? If wings have been damaged in the past, if they can be repaired enough to let you fly again?” Her gaze is entreating as she stares at me. “It’s possible, right?”
I hate to disappoint her. I do not remember. Right now my thoughts are only of you.
Her face flushes and I feel the embarrassment radiating from her. “You need to take it easy. I don’t want you pulling at those stitches.”
Did I pull at the stitches when I mounted you?
She gasps. “Zohr!”
I am surprised—and pleased—at the reaction I get. I can feel her thoughts and she is both shocked at my words and feels a bolt of lust. I immediately see a flash of memories from her, of my mouth on her cunt and my hand pinning hers down. Of turning her over and then lifting her hips and the tight surge she felt when I pushed into her—