by Ella Frank
Leave him alone.
She searched the space Li’Am was in but found no signatures of her kind surrounding him. Bravo, Li’Am. I’m not sure how you’re doing it, but I will find him, and I’ll find the others.
Will you? I don’t think so. Don’t act as if you care, Seraphine. The only reason you are concerned is that I have the upper hand.
Is that what you think?
No, it’s what I know. You can’t touch me or anyone else in here, and that I know is killing you.
Seraphine ground her teeth together. He was right. Her deficiency in that moment was repulsive to her very being.
You see, sister, while you’ve been consumed in your search for revenge, I’ve been consumed with your destruction.
I will get to you, Li’Am, she promised, her tone threatening. And when I do, I will take from you the only thing left that you value but will never admit to.
Her brother remained stubbornly silent.
Then she whispered into his mind, Si’Bastian…
* * *
Bastian looked towards the closed window of the tower he was sitting in and wondered, not for the first time, how it would feel to be free of this place.
His arms and legs felt as if they were made of lead, and he had an ache in his head that wouldn’t dissipate—probably due to whatever it was lining the cuffs his father had shackled him with.
He raised his legs, pulled his thighs to his chest, and rested his forehead on his knees. He’d never felt so defeated in all of his existence. He tried to ignore the other part of him that ached, but as he sat there in the silence of his makeshift prison, he couldn’t ignore the hurt in his heart.
The loud rapping of knuckles knocking on the door was the only warning he got before it was pushed open and Ry’Ker walked inside. Again, he was carrying with him a tray of food, and Bastian resented his attempt at kindness.
“Have you eaten?” the guard asked as he made his way inside, closing the door behind him.
Bastian tracked him across the room to the table that held the food he’d brought last night. “No. But the rats did. They said to thank you.”
The clang of the metal on the wooden table irritated his already sore head, and he winced from the noise.
“What’s wrong?”
The question was asked gruffly from the man watching him, and when Bastian stayed silent, Ry’Ker walked towards him and crouched down.
“I asked you a question.”
Bastian narrowed his eyes and focused all of his rage on the man.
“And I choose not to answer, Guard.”
A flicker of anger entered Ry’Ker’s eyes, and Bastian was happy to note that he’d gotten to him.
“You better start while we’re in here. Or you’ll soon be very hungry. Have you forgotten that you are at a distinct disadvantage?”
Bastian cocked his head to the side and regarded the confident man. “Am I? I think not.”
“How do you figure that?”
Bastian dropped his hands down by his side and felt a cruel line curl his lip as Ry’Ker moved away. “Because, even restrained to a wall, stripped of my abilities, you still flinch whenever I move. I have the advantage because you are scared of me.” He knew the taunt would get under the skin of the fiercely controlled guard, and he wasn’t disappointed.
Ry’Ker’s jaw ticked as he snarled back at him, “I am not scared of you. I watch my back around your kind because you can’t be trusted.”
Bastian loathed the way he was lumped into the same category as Seraphine by everyone, but there was no way he would let Ry’Ker know that. Instead, he slid his legs under him, and even though they ached, he pushed up to his knees and got in the guard’s face.
“So, are you trying to say that all men are the same? That they all act one way?”
Refusing to back down, Ry’Ker tightened his mouth as he spat out, “Of course not.”
“Of course,” Bastian agreed, his voice low as he landed the blow he knew would really cut. “Or else you would have helped Kai when he had to kill your—”
Before the final word left his mouth, Ry’Ker shoved him so hard that his back hit the wall and the chains on his arms jangled across the stone. The guard glared down at him, and Bastian felt that this was better for them.
Concern and compassion were emotions he didn’t understand.
Anger and disgust? Much more familiar.
“Don’t you ever speak of that to me,” Ry’Ker thundered in a murderous tone. “You know nothing.”
Bringing his knees up to where he’d had them earlier, Bastian rested his wrists on them. “I know more than you think. I’m close to your brother. You condemn him for turning his back on family, yet you follow one who would do this to his own.” He emphasized his point by raising an arm and shaking the chain.
Ry’Ker’s eyes fell to his hands and then came back up to zoom in on his face.
That was when Bastian asked, “What kind of man does that make you? A better one than Kai? Than I? I think not. So don’t try and fool me by acting as if you care one way or another about my well-being.”
Ry’Ker’s nostrils flared with every breath he took, and Bastian noticed his chest rise and fall as he tried to visibly calm himself. He then walked over to the tray on the table and stared down at it before twisting his head to look at him.
“Fine. Starve yourself. What do I care?”
“I don’t know, Guard. Why do you care?”
But no answer came because Ry’Ker was already out the door.
After washing her face, underarms, and a few important places down below, Naeve looked down at her grass-stained dress and mud-caked boots and tried to imagine ever wearing clean clothes again.
The water had been close to freezing when she’d splashed it on her grimy cheeks, but she had to admit that the herb she’d been given to crush and rub on her skin smelled amazing. Like lavender and something else that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Her hair felt like a bird’s nest, and as she put a palm to it, she wondered…
Grabbing her jacket, she reached into one of the pockets and pulled out the contents.
One hair tie—yes.
A piece of bubble gum—thank god. The quick burst of flavorful pleasure that would give she might’ve just killed for.
And oh shit. She grabbed her cell phone and touched the screen, hoping in vain that it wasn’t—yeah. Dead.
The blank screen seemed to be mocking her. Why didn’t we think of this earlier? Because they’d been scared. Disoriented. Stupid.
As the final word echoed through her mind, she threw the useless device on the mammoth bed in the center of the room. Raising her hands to her face, she covered it and fought back the urge to scream.
How could we be so stupid?
She wished she could disappear as effectively as the room did when she shut her eyes—but she couldn’t. She was stuck there. In a strange place with nothing but a piece of gum, dirty clothes, and a man who was hell-bent on keeping her.
When a loud knock sounded on the door, Naeve startled and whipped her head towards it. She quickly grabbed the hair tie and pulled her messy strands up into a bun she knew must have looked terrible. As she finally got it secured, a second knock came. Then the door opened and Marcus was standing on the other side.
He was dressed the same way he had been when they’d first met—in all black. But this time, there was no hood or mask. The shirt was less like a uniform and more like a… What? Casual outfit? It was loose, hanging down over the black pants.
“You ready for some food, rabbit?”
Resisting the urge to tell him her name, Naeve stuffed the gum into the pocket of her dress and gave a quick nod. She was hungry. It felt like it had been weeks, not days, since she’d last eaten, and as if her stomach had heard her thoughts, it growled in response.
Marcus stood aside in a gesture that indicated she should move. So she made her way towards him and asked, “What kind of food do you eat here? I’m starving.
”
He slowly took her measure as he answered, “Tonight, it’s Hawkog.”
Naeve stopped walking and looked up at him. “It’s what?”
Marcus moved out of the doorway and repeated, “Hawkog.”
Wondering if he was messing with her, Naeve said nothing as she moved past him into the corridor. What the hell is Hawkog?
As he walked down the hall, she quickly followed behind, not wanting to get lost. She noticed the torches attached to the walls lighting the way and was reminded of how different this place was.
What she wouldn’t do for some electricity, a hot shower, and a mirror to see what she looked like right now. Not because of vanity, but for the sake of her sanity. To remind herself that she was still the same woman she’d been days ago.
When Marcus came to a halt at an archway, Naeve did the same and peered around the corner to see a massive, wooden table in the center of an empty room.
“Kai said to wait for him in here. He’ll be down presently.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she walked into the room and then turned when she heard Marcus leave.
Huh. Guess they trust me to stay put.
When the only sound that remained was the flickering flames in the huge fireplace, Naeve walked farther inside and let her eyes finally take in her surroundings.
The table looked like it had been carved from the trunk of a large tree, and it appeared as though it could seat well over twenty-plus men. She raised her head to look at the chandelier lighting the space and found her mouth parting on a soft gasp at the intricate piece that housed a dozen or so candles. They were all lit and slowly dripping wax down their sticks to the holders below.
The soft glow it provided was cozy, and when added with the fireplace, there was enough light that it seemed like an electrical light was hanging overhead.
Making her way past a sizable chair at the head of the table, she reached out to trail her fingers over the elaborate carving in the back of the wood. It looked like a coat of arms. The same one she’d glimpsed on Li’Am’s coat back at L’Mere. It was an elaborate piece with four distinct sections including a moon, a set of scales, animals—birds and fish—and the word Arcania etched across the center. It was stunning.
She noted that the walls were bare as she stepped around the chair, and then her eyes moved to the place settings on the table. A glass, a plate, and a set of crude-looking utensils sat in front of the large chair, and to the right was a second identical setting but a much less elaborate seat.
The King and his peons, no doubt. But hang on—Kai said that he wasn’t a King.
“Have you been waiting long?”
Naeve jumped and spun towards the door as if she’d been caught stealing, and the sight that greeted her had her reaching for the back of one of the chairs to remain upright. The man striding into the room was a virtual stranger compared to the one she’d expected to see.
Kai looked… Wow. He looked different.
She was trying to think of an appropriate response, but as he got closer, all the words she’d once associated with her fear of him and wanting to escape fled her mind.
It was ironic, because now, all she could think about was how she wanted to get closer. He was unbelievably attractive.
Clearly, he’d found some clean clothes, because the man who was coming to a standstill in front of her was dressed in black pants and a loose white shirt that hung open with two ties lying against his wide chest.
His dark, shoulder-length hair looked a hundred times cleaner than hers felt, and it was pulled half back and secured somehow at the back of his head, while the stubble lining his jaw was a dark shadow she suddenly ached to touch.
“Naeve?”
Add in that voice and she was feeling things she’d never felt before. Things I shouldn’t be feeling. And when he said her name again, she finally managed to answer.
“No.”
His eyebrow rose as he waited, so she tried again.
“I only got here a few minutes ago.”
“Good,” he answered curtly before he turned away and walked to the fireplace, where he picked up an iron poker and stoked the fire.
She watched him go, letting her eyes take in his broad shoulders and, yes, the place he’d secured his hair with what looked like a leather tie. She then ran her gaze over his frame, noticed the way his pants were closely fitted to his strong legs, and felt her entire body heat in response.
This man wasn’t like anyone she’d met before. He was crude, rough, and at times frightening. But here and now, dressed as he was, he was the most magnificent man she’d ever seen.
As that thought entered her mind, he looked back over his shoulder, and she knew she was in deep trouble.
He hasn’t even done anything, and I want to strip my clothes off and beg for it.
* * *
Naeve’s expression had him straightening to his full height to face her. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks rosy under the glow from the candles. And her mouth—that soft, sweet mouth—was slightly parted. She looked as she had after the kiss they’d shared back at L’Mere.
Aroused.
He took in her raggedy dress and slowly walked her way. “Naeve?” He noticed that, every time he said her name, she seemed to sway towards him almost subconsciously. Drawn to him again as she had been back at the castle.
What is going on here?
He stopped and ran his finger over the material covering her shoulder. “We need to find you some new clothes,” he told her. When she silently continued to look up at him, he found his mouth curving into a small smile. “Or maybe none at all.”
He figured that would get a reaction. Maybe pull her from whatever trance she seemed to be in. But instead, she licked her lips and raised a hand as if to timidly touch him.
There was no reason for him to halt her this time, and he had no intention of doing so.
She laid her palm over his chest and then whispered out words that almost brought him to his knees. “I don’t know why, but I feel like I need to touch you.”
She blinked her bright blue eyes at him, and he too found the compulsion to touch her overwhelming.
“Then touch me,” he invited.
She shifted her hand across his chest to where his shirt hung open, and when the tips of her fingers touched his bare flesh, he felt as if a fire was flooding his veins. She must have felt it also, because she pulled her hand from him as if she had been burned.
“Why?” she asked softly as she stumbled away a step.
He reached out to take her arm, but she jerked it away.
“Why?” she demanded. “Why do I feel like this around you? I don’t even like you.”
She looked away from him, and that’s when he saw it. The dark marking on her temple had spread. It had branched off and was now making a path down her neck.
He was about to say something when she spun back, and he noticed that her eyes had taken on a wild look. The soft arousal from seconds ago had been replaced with anger.
“You held a knife on me and kidnapped me. The last thing I want is for you to touch me.”
The disgust she poured into the word ‘touch’ sparked something inside him that was a far cry from the desire he’d been feeling.
He grabbed her by the arms and shook her slightly as he reminded her, “It was you who touched me, rabbit. Don’t forget that while you’re busy trying to vilify me. I was barely in the room before you were stripping me of my clothes with your eyes.”
“I was not,” she fired back.
His eyes dropped down to the low neckline of her dress. He said nothing, just let his gaze take a leisurely perusal of her until she was squirming in his grasp.
“Stop it,” she gritted out, trying to free herself.
“Stop what? According to you, I’m not doing anything.” He slid his palms down her arms and gripped her wrists, pulling them behind her back, where he clasped them in one of his hands.
In this position, her br
easts thrust out towards him, begging him to touch, but instead, he waited until she faced off with him. When she stubbornly jutted her chin forward, he began talking.
“This is what I was talking about back at L’Mere. You want to touch me and don’t know why. And by all the Gods, I want to touch you too.”
She started struggling again, but it was ineffectual, because compared to him, she was miniscule.
“But I won’t,” he promised, running a hand down her side. “I will, however, demand to know what secrets you have hidden from me.”
He let her feel the pressure of his palm through her dress, and when he plunged his hand into the pocket, her eyes widened. His fingers felt around and touched a small, square object before pulling it free.
Bringing it up between them, he saw some writing on the white paper and then read, “Hubba Bubba?”
* * *
Naeve wasn’t sure what was more alarming—the fact that she was standing so close to Kai with his hand wrapped around her wrists, that they were standing in his—for all intents and purposes—castle with a piece of watermelon bubble gum, or the fact that she was ready to fight him to the death to keep it.
“Give that back.”
He cocked his head to the side and frowned so hard that it was as though she were staring at a nuclear missile. If she’d been thinking in her right mind, Naeve was sure she would’ve found the situation absolutely ridiculous. But apparently, she wasn’t thinking with any kind of mind.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
The hand around her wrists tightened as he hauled her forward so her breasts crushed into his chest. Raising the white square between them, he asked again, “What is it?”
Feeling like a child being chastised, she rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Bubble gum.”
“Bubble gum?”
She was pouting as she replied, “Yes.”
He brought it up to his nose and sniffed. “What’s it for?”
As she stood there, she wondered if she was losing her mind. In the space of seconds, she’d gone from aroused to angry, and now, she found the entire situation hilarious.
