When I turned to look over at my captor, his eyes were already watching me. I gripped the dagger harder when his ethereal blue gaze dropped to it. He took a step toward me, and I took one back, still on the floor. He stopped, his lips twitching again. Then, as if deciding something, he stormed over. My reflexes kicked in. I moved faster than I intended to. Just as quickly, he stopped again.
His eyes didn’t leave mine for several heartbeats before he said, “Go on. I imagine you’ve been housebroken already?”
At first I didn’t understand. Housebroken? And then it clicked.
I stood up for the first time since I was captured. His eyes followed the movement in open curiosity. Holding the dagger close to my chest, chin lifted in defiance, I stormed off to the bathroom and shut the door behind me.
I never thought he’d let me. I thought for sure he’d give chase and I’d be beaten for it. For several minutes I stood at the other side of the door—blade close to my chest, pulse fluttering, staring at the toilet I desperately needed, waiting. But he didn’t follow me in. Another damning discovery.
He didn’t need to.
Letting loose a breath, I quickly removed the dagger from inside my vagina and used the toilet. The relief of having it no longer pressing on my insides was almost as euphoric as relieving my bladder after hours of holding it.
Like with his room, not much was kept in his bathroom. A few towels and toiletries, things to keep himself neat and clean, but there were so few places to hide something like a weapon. So I concealed it as best as I could in one of the cabinets. Risky, but he’d already given me a weapon. I didn’t expect him to go looking for another. And if he found one on me, he’d be suspicious.
Lifting my chin again, I exited the bathroom the way I entered it. With my glare still intact.
He’d already returned to his desk, several devices I couldn’t name among the scattered parchment, but that wasn’t what drew my eyes to it. A plate piled with food sat in a clear place at the edge. He hadn’t touched it, barely looked at it, but it was all I could see as I took slow steps out of the bathroom.
My stomach growled and rolled over itself, demanding I steal some. I wouldn’t risk it after our little moment. Instead, I went to a corner of the room. My new home. I sat down with my legs pressed against my chest and my arms wrapped around them.
The victim.
The slave.
The devil among demons.
Chapter 4
Ihadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep. That never happened to me. And in enemy territory, no less. Shame hit harder than fear when I opened my eyes, head resting on the bend of my knees.
Jolting back to life, I scanned the room. My captor was gone. He’d left me unbound and alone, but I suspected that someone was stationed outside the door. Boris, if I was lucky. It was too early to test my luck, so I stayed in my corner.
Learning who guarded the door and when would be a task for another day. Patience and clever maneuvers would be mygreatest weapon. I wasn’t destined for death—not yet, anyway—so proper vigilance was necessary.
And that was when I noticed the plate of food at my feet. It was the same one I’d seen on the demon’s desk before sleep took me. The one I was sure he’d gotten for himself.
Why was it here?
I looked around, sure it was left by accident. But then I slowly reached for it. Slices of orange were arranged on the plate. Other fruit, too. Meat. Bread. It was a fucking feast, and I was too hungry to worry if it was poisoned. If it was, it’d be worth dying for.
Without any regard for how it made me look, I devoured everything. I didn’t leave a fucking morsel that wasn’t an orange skin or bone. It’d been the best meal I’d eaten in years, and I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t. But it made me angry. Food like this was fought over—killed for—in my sector, and I’d been given it without thought. A slave. Their captive.
Why?
Carefully, I got to my feet with the plate in hand.
His desk was left unguarded. Papers and weird devices were left out. Some of the parchment was folded and put in their place, but it wouldn’t require much to make it look like they hadn’t been touched. They were beasts, though. I couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t somehow smell the espionage. Until I knew what they could do, I’d be careful.
I eyed the desk with longing, then scurried to the bathroom to clean the plate and have it waiting for him.
He'd fed me. He didn’t have to, not like this. I expected gruel or soup. Maybe even moldy leftovers. Not a feast. Not this delightful meal I’d think about until the day I died. The oranges were still a tingle on my tongue as I cleaned off the inedible scraps and washed the ceramic plate with care. When I was satisfied, I returned to the room.
But the beast was waiting.
The plate I carried nearly dropped to the floor, but my reflexes—my fucking reflexes—kicked in. I caught it midair before it could hit the stone. The demon’s eyes followed its descent, then his mouth twitched. The muscles in his torso flexed and the blue in his eyes blazed.
Fucking shit.
