I funnel all the sadness, fear, and panic into a blind rage, propelling me to get the fuck out of Dodge.
I’m about to be everyone’s fucking problem. I grab a dark green shirt from its hanger, sliding it over my nearly naked body. It’s huge, of course, and fits me more like a tunic. I’d kill for a pair of yoga pants, but we’re working with what we’ve got.
I grab the half-empty bottle of liquor and shove a silk-like cravat into its narrow neck.
I rummage through the first drawer, frantically searching for anything that looks electronic. While trying to find an ignitor for the Molotov cocktail, I find my situation so absurd that I nearly chuckle. Will a tiny spark be enough to ignite the the gaudy wick? I know it’s strong enough stuff to burn, as I’m still fighting off the lingering buzz from earlier.
I throw every imaginable size and shape of sexy toys out from the duke’s drawers. I can hear as some of the more fragile ones smash against the wall behind me.
Fuck him, I think as I wrench something that looks like a vibrator apart, smashing it on the hard island countertop.
Eventually, wires spring out as the cover snaps, and the smile that splits my face must be manic as I pull the wires apart. I laugh when I hit the button and watch a tiny spark arc between the frayed metal.
It's not a lighter, but it'll do.
CHAPTER8
?A LITTLE KINDNESS?
?RAF’ERE
The door mufflesthe sound of her fists pounding, but I can feel the vibrations. Settling onto the smooth panel, I let myself slide down and rest with my elbows on my knees.
This is going to be a f’teeing problem…Marta is going to be a problem.
I pinned her against the doorframe, frustrated by her actions. But when I was that close, I could feel my mouth watering in my eagerness to taste her lips. With every breath, her scent filled my nostrils, intoxicating me like a dangerous drug. I lost myself for a moment, something that hasn’t happened to me since Yar’oh.
Yar’oh is the reason I have such a grip now, the reason I can function outside of emotions. Marta, being my f’teeing mate, is throwing a wrench in any progress I’ve made, and the bond is making me feel weaker than I have in my entire life. I hate it.
With my eyes shut and a deep breath, I focus on the thumping of Marta’s fists on the door. Maybe I’m sick, but I’m oddly comforted by their rhythm. She’s here, and she’s safe—the fact she probably wants to murder me doesn’t really play into the equation.
I run my hand down the scarred side of my face, feeling the ridges of my old injuries. I curse the iridescent scales on my cheekbones, a genetic variation that only highlights the most damaged parts of me.
Every time I feel my face, I’m assaulted by the memory of the Andjin soldier's studded tentacle thrashing against me on the Korlyan Moon. Close combat was supposed to have been a thing of the past, I remember thinking as he shredded the delicate muscles covering my cheek.
What the Andjin wasn’t expecting was the searing pain in his chest after my blaster blindsided him. I held a sick satisfaction in knowing I hurt him maybe more than he had me. That was my last thought before I passed out from the pain.
My scars? They barely hurt anymore, just the occasional twinge of twisted tissue when I shift my mouth too quickly.
Her words echoed in my head, and I couldn't help but wonder if she was right—am I a monster? She cast me as the villain in her story, but I'll play that role if it means I can take back control over the mess my life has become since she entered into it.
“Ahem.” Jens’i breaks my destructive thinking.
“Yes?” I say, not opening my eyes, my hand still rubbing my jaw.
“Is there anything I might assist you with, sir?” He crosses his arms over his starched white uniform.
“No.”
“Not even our guest, currently locked in the closet?” He gestures to the door I’m blocking.
“Not unless you can convince her not to run away.”
My butler pauses, throwing me a glance that’s almost thoughtful. Pulling up a chair near me, he sits, leaning forward onto his knees over me.
“Is there a reason we want thisguestto stay—when there are so many willing females who would happily take her place?” He looks down at me, as if expecting me to reveal my secret.
“No.”
