“I just…” She looks away from me, her eyes landing on a group of slaves who have been watching us. Suddenly, they all become extremely interested in the floor, the fire, their fingers, pretty much everything except Katya’s gaze. It’s unbelievable. I—a powerful male who has already proved himself capable of beating the ever-loving-shit out of anyone I choose—glare at them and they don’t so much as flinch, but tiny Katya takes one look at them and they’re all shitting in their pants. I’d probably find it hilarious if I wasn’t so pissed. “You hardly know me,” she says, her voice smaller, less certain, than before. “Why would you take that kind of risk for someone you hardly know?”
I open my mouth to speak. “I-uh…” What do I say to that? It doesn’t make any logical sense. Elsbeth said as much to me before I left, so how do I explain it to her? How do I make her understand that the very thought of somebody harming her pains me in a way I’ve never felt before? Like losing her would be losing the other half of myself. “I just couldn’t let them hurt you,” I finally reply. It’s the truth, if not the whole truth.
“And what you said about your prince killing the queen? Was that true?”
Fuck.
“I was trying to get us out of here.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
I sigh. Why does everything have to be so damned difficult? “It’s just a theory, Katya.”
She drags her gaze from the fire and looks at me, her eyes searching my features, as though trying to discern the things I’m afraid to say. Her scrutiny is enough to fray my nerves and turn my hands clammy. I have no problem facing a hoard of trained soldiers on a battlefield, yet this woman and the feelings I have for her terrify me. Every time I look at her face, all I can think about is how beautiful she is and how much I want to kiss her, touch her, sweep her up into my arms and make love to her. I want to give her so many orgasms, she passes out, then wake her up stuffed full of my cock and fuck her until she swears she’s mine and comes screaming my name.
Someday.
The shrill clanging of a bell startles us both. Katya takes two quick steps back, and she hugs her chest, effectively walling herself off.
One of the guards begins shouting and waving his arms around. I haven’t a clue what he’s saying, but it’s clear he’s splitting the males and females off into two lines. “He says we have to go to sleep now,” Katya tells me, her eyes on the ground. “You have to go over there.” She points to the line of male slaves.
The thought of leaving her side, even for a second, makes me antsy—like an itch I can’t reach, but I don’t have the luxury ofchoices right now. Anyway, she’s probably relieved to get away from me. I nod. “Goodnight, Katya.” Then I turn for the men's line, leaving her behind.
I don’t look back.
31
We’re made to lie on a scratchy canvas-like material that does nothing to soften the rocky ground. Then the guards chain the manacles on one ankle to heavy metal rings bolted into the stone at our feet.
So much for a night escape.
I keep replaying the argument with Aemon over and over in my mind. For a moment, I swear I saw something like longing in his eyes, and I had the almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch his face, feel the scratch of his beard against my fingertips, trace the shape of his lips. Gods, I must be losing my mind. He’s nothing but a menace. It would be better to just push him out of my life and be finished with him.
So, why does the thought of doing that make me sick to my stomach?
To my right, a fae girl rolls onto her side, facing me, and I instantly recognize her as the one who helped me in the cave. “You,”I say, as though I’m some primitive female who has just learned to speak and not an educated linguist.
“Me,” she replies with a warm smile. She has a snaggle tooth on her lower set of teeth that only makes her look kinder. In the cave, I would have sworn her hair was brown, but up close and with the nearby fire providing a bit more light, I can see that it’s more of a dark auburn that almost perfectly matches her eyes, except for the halo of gold around her pupils. She’s frighteningly thin and pale, but with a heart-shaped face, pert nose and full lips that hint at how beautiful she might be if she wasn’t constantly denied food and sunshine.
“I didn’t get a chance to thank you. I’m not sure what happened, but I swear I thought I was going to die.”
“Coming to terms with all of this”—she looks up and around, indicating our surroundings—“is pretty terrifying. I’d think there was something wrong with you if you didn’t panic, at least a little. You eventually get used to it.”
“Which part?”
I didn’t mean it as a joke, but she chuckles anyway. “It takes a bit, but after a while, you’re so tired by the time you lie down you could literally sleep anywhere.”
That I believe.
“So, you weren’t born here, you were kidnapped, like us?” I ask.
She nods. “My brother and I were on the rode traveling to Verneth when we were jumped by a bunch of soldiers.” She jerks her chin toward the cluster of guards. “Like those, but with their faces covered.”
“How long ago?”
She shrugs. “Days and nights kind of bleed together here, so it’s hard to say. Maybe two years.”
“Gods.”
