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)
He moves behind me and puts his arms around my shoulders, nuzzling my neck from behind. I catch a whiff of his scent—char and sweat and fresh meat.
Instead of being grossed out, it’s kind of comforting. I pat his arm. “You eat well?”
I did, but I missed you. He rubs his nose along my neck, sending goosebumps up my spine.
Not gonna think about that book. Not gonna.
“I missed you, too,” I tell him, and I’m surprised to realize it’s the truth. It was a quiet afternoon, but it edged onto lonely. That worries me a little. What’s it going to be like when we go our separate ways and I’m on my own again? I can’t be missing people. It’s not safe to depend on anyone else. Like it or not, I’m best alone. So I change the subject. “How are your wounds? Paining you?”
There is a little tenderness in my back, but I am otherwise fine. You smell nice. I missed your scent. His nose rubs against the curve of my shoulder. You are wearing far too much, though.
I can’t help but chuckle a bit at that. “That’s what humans do. We wear clothing.”
I find it annoying. Plus, it smells bad. What purpose does it serve? He tugs at my heavily repaired shirt. I like your natural scent much better.
“Well,” I say, opening my book again. “Clothing is protection.”
He snorts against my neck, and one claw plucks at my stitching. This will not protect you from fire-spitters. Are humans that stupid?
I smother a laugh. “Different kind of protection. Think about…okay. Think about me without a shirt or pants, and then think about me running into Azar’s men.”
Zohr’s thoughts go dark. They would touch you, even if you were claimed as another’s mate?
“They wouldn’t care one bit,” I tell him. “Guys like that are just into that sort of thing because they’re jerks.”
He growls low, and his hands tighten on my shoulders. I would rip their throats out if they tried.
“And I appreciate that sort of bloodthirsty enthusiasm,” I tell him with a grin. I pick up one of the books scattered at my feet and pat it. “I need to read a bit more in this one. I think I found some stuff about treating scar tissue, but I need to concentrate.”
Before I can open the book, Zohr pulls it out of my hands. Later. We have plans, remember?
I eye the dead goat in front of me. “Dinner?”
Kissing.
Right. How could I forget? I can feel a flush moving over my face and I automatically set the new book down atop the book I’m trying very hard not to think of and feels terribly conspicuous despite its plain cover. “Kissing, huh?” I sound all choked and awkward. “You still want to do that?”
I want to do more, but we agreed to kissing. His thoughts are playful, erotic.
Oh, man.
Okay, we’re going to kiss.
I can do this without being ridiculous. I can. I’ve had sex with this guy. Dragon. Whatever. A kiss is nothing.
But right now, a kiss just feels so…intense. It’s a commitment to a relationship.
I’m not good with commitments.
We were committed the moment you took my cock inside you and accepted my fires, Zohr tells me. Nothing else has changed.
“I know,” I whisper. “But you have to be patient with me.” I still think of myself as a lone wolf. Of friends being liabilities. It’s why I never stuck around despite Sasha’s invites to stay with them. It’s how Boyd dragged me into his cesspool of friends. Connections drag you down. They sink you with them.
Which is what makes it so hard for me to figure out with Zohr. Will my connection with him sink me if I stay? Survival’s easiest alone, but when I think about him going on—or going back to the woman in his memories—something about it doesn’t sit right with me. Maybe it’s obligation. I feel obligated to Zohr because I have a mental connection with him.
Or maybe you like being with me? He slides around to sit beside me, his gaze meeting mine. His eyes are warm and friendly and full of gold. There’s even a smile on his fascinatingly beautiful mouth, displaying a hint of fangs.
Maybe. Maybe there’s no point in stressing over him and me, because right now we have to be together. We can let the future figure out itself and not borrow trouble. De cualquier malla sale un ratón, as my father used to say. Under any net, there might be a mouse. I need to appreciate what—and who—I have.
And at the end of the day, it’s just a kiss. Nothing to get all freaked out over.
Zohr reaches out and caresses my cheek with one clawed hand, studying my face. Do you not like the thought of kissing me?
Oh, I do. I like the thought too much. “I’m just nervous. This is out of my comfort zone.”