“That’s out of the question.”
“I figured you wanted to find these portals to Earth, but I guess I was mistaken. You have to admit, there’s something exciting about the whole prisoner scenario, and that collar is too tempting to resist. Let’s ask him and see how it all plays out.”
“It won’t play out.”
If only Myor knew all the reasons why Kinzer wasn’t going to fuck around with Hayde—the hate, the rage that lingered.
“Then have fun on your quest without my help,” Myor said.
Quintz set his hand on Kinzer’s shoulder. “Kinzer, this is my only lead. Now I’m not saying I want you to do this, but if you don’t have an issue with it, and Hayde doesn’t, it would be a hell of a lot easier for us.”
Despite how much Kinzer didn’t want to cave to Myor’s request, it was evidently their only chance if they were going to get back to Earth in time to get to Treycore and Kid and put a stop to Janka’s plans.
“I’ll ask him,” Kinzer said, resigned.
Myor chuckled.
***
Hayde sat at the bar with Myor’s fallen bodyguard—the one Kinzer and Quintz had left him with. He’d learned the immortal’s name was Irapher, and after some time chatting, he had warmed up to him.
Irapher had come on strong, but he was friendly enough, and Hayde found himself enjoying his sense of humor and the little chat they shared between drinks. After some time, Hayde finally asked a question that had been burning on his mind: “So why are you a guard? If the whole universe is coming to the end, what’s the use of being employed by someone else?”
“Fair question,” Irapher said before taking another swig of his drink. He set his goblet on the bar, taking a breath before replying. “I swore my life over to Myor when he rescued me during the War, as did the other guards here. We worship at his feet because we owe him our lives, and in exchange for his safety, he provides us with the most exhilarating and life-giving of experiences, supplies us with all the sex and sinsand we could ever require.”
Hayde knew of sinsand but had never used any himself, partly because it was in limited supply and only in use by the wealthier of immortals. But also because it was the equivalent of immortal meth, which in turn left its users enslaved to the substance. It made sense these immortals had decided to keep to themselves, enjoying the pleasure of their senses to the bitter end. Perhaps not such a bad way to live.
“You know,” Irapher said, “if you wanted to find a room to mess around—”
Hayde felt someone grab his shoulder and pull so that the stool he sat on spun around.
Kinzer stood before him, his expression annoyed, as though Hayde had done something horribly wrong by sitting and chatting with the guard Kinzer had left him with.
“Who said you could fucking sit down?” Kinzer asked.
“I’m having a chat with my new friend.”
“Well, we have to have a chat.” Kinzer gripped the back of his neck and forced him to his feet.
Hayde could feel his utter disdain in the way he dug his fingers into his skin, like he wanted to tear into him, break his body.
If that’s what you want, do it, Kinzer.
Kinzer led Hayde to a nearby corner.
Hayde glanced around. “Where’s Quintz?”
“He’s sitting this one out.” Kinzer continued dragging Hayde behind him.
“I’m fucking coming with you, so why don’t you chill the fuck out.”
Kinzer didn’t pay any attention to his complaint. He pulled him into a corner and turned to him. “Myor has the intel we need,” Kinzer said, “but he’s made a request before he’s willing to give it to us.”
By the way Kinzer said it, Hayde figured where this was heading. “You need me to fuck him? Is that the deal you made? Sell me off as some sort of sex slave?”
“You don’t want to?”
“Of course I don’t want to, but are you going to make me anyway?”
