Tearing my gaze away, I fumbled the key into one lock then the other, being careful not to brush hands with him. The chains fell away. I retreated immediately, but there was nowhere to go now. Nowhere he couldn’t reach me.
He flexed his hands, then held one out to me. “May I have the key?”
I clenched it tighter for a moment, reluctant to give it up even though it was essentially useless now.
“For the wall lock,” he added. He gestured to the chains around my shoulders. “They make decent weapons, as you already know.”
“So long as you don’t use them on me,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, but my voice trembled. To cover it up, I dropped the key into his palm.
His fingers curled around it. “Why would I do that to the woman who set me free?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and unleashed his chains from the wall, then slipped the key into the pocket of his black pants. My eyes lingered on his narrow hips and chiseled stomach.
I swallowed hard and wrenched my gaze away. I would fight him if I had to. He was clearly still suspicious of me and my intentions. Ingratiating myself with him was going to be like tiptoeing on the ledge of the bridge, barefoot, in a hurricane.
My palms grew clammy at the thought.
Aiden wrapped the chains around his forearms and his knuckles, a sort of armor on top of the gauntlets of muscle he already had.
We faced each other in our dim cage.
My heart fluttered wildly. The silence felt more unbearable than ever. How long would we have to wait? What would we do until then? Would he?—
“Tell me your favorite food,” he said, leaning against the wall as if we were in a cozy tavern settling on something to eat.
I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Biscuits.” My cheeks heated. But it was almost a relief to say something truthful.
He smiled. “Sweet or savory?”
I twisted my mouth to one side, thinking hard. My stomach rumbled loudly as if I’d woken it up by thinking about food. “Right now? Both. But a freshly baked biscuit, slathered in butter with a touch of garlic and rosemary is my absolute favorite.”
His smile deepened, and the flutter in my chest moved to my stomach. “I prefer sweet, myself, with a dash of cinnamon and warm honey.”
“That’s your favorite food?”
“Merely my favorite biscuit. Favorite food?” He hummed to himself. “Have you ever tasted a moonblood fruit?”
I frowned and shook my head.
“Ah,” he said with a soft sigh. “They grow on the banks of the Twaryn River in the heart of the forest. They have a silvery-white peel on the outside with a crimson flesh inside. Legend says they were Viridana’s favorite and taste the best picked on a full moon, but I would eat one any time. The sweetest, most refreshing treat.”
I smiled. “Sounds perfect. Maybe I’ll have the chance to try one someday.”
“I truly hope you do.”
I bit my lip. “Why did you ask me about food?”
“Perhaps I just wanted to pass the time.”
“Or?”
He grunted. “Or I wanted to save myself the barrage of questions and accusations I could sense brewing in your head. You looked ready for war.”
I scoffed, trying to surreptitiously release my fierce grip on my chains. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling.”
“Maybe not. But now I know your favorite food,” he said with a smirk.
“And I know yours. And that you’ve been to Twaryn. Which is more significant, so I believe I’ve won this little game.”
He straightened and stalked toward me. I scrambled backward, my back meeting the wall the moment his hands pressed against the rock on either side of my shoulders. Yet, he still didn’t touch me.
