I glare at him, furious. I don’t care if he can’t understand normal human ways. He’s an insensitive brute who’s not making any attempt to understand what it’s like for me here. The way he jumped out at me earlier. God, I’m still pissed about that. “I’d rather starve!”
“Then starve!” he roars at me, baring all his teeth.
“Fine!” I scream back at him, baring allmyteeth back at him.
He stares at me, obviously discomfited that I don’t appear frightened by him. It’s clear he usually gets more of a response when he does this. Or are my tiny nubby little teeth confusing him?
I don’t back down. Neither does he.
Until, finally, he does, shaking his head like he’s a dog shaking off water droplets. “Fine,” he half-growls, half-mutters. “More for me.”
And then he scarfs down the steaming meat in the pot that he’s cut into neat little cubes. He devours it within minutes.
I cross my arms over my chest and look away.
SEVENTEEN
BEAST
“She isnothing like what I expected,” I confess quietly.
“What did you think a consort would be like?” Romulus asks, his chains silent as he speaks. He’s calm now after feeding, and for once, the dungeon rests in blessed quiet.
I allow myself to relax as I consider his question carefully. “Truthfully, I had little time to contemplate it. She appeared at my cave, and I intended to... dispatch her like all the others who came seeking.”
“But you didn’t. Why?”
I exhale slowly, the sound echoing off stone walls. “She was so... fragile.”
“Most mortals are, compared to you, Abaddon.”
I pause, struck by his observation. “She was different from the rest. I could sense her intent wasn’t...” I struggle to find the precise word. Language has never been my strength. Since Creator-Father’s death, I’ve rarely had cause to use it. Finally, the right term comes to me. “Predatory. She genuinely sought help.”
“Help?” Romulus chuckles, though there’s no malice in it. “From you?”
I shrug, somewhat embarrassed.
“And you chose to provide it?” Now he sounds genuinely surprised.
I grunt my confirmation. “The others who found that cave came demanding things—proof of my existence, trophies, conquest. But she was the first to offer something precious in return. Gratitude. Respect. So I acted without thinking and made her my consort as payment for the healing. Then we came here. And now I...”
“Now you have a consort you’re completely bewildered by.”
“I know perfectly well what to do with a consort,” I retort defensively.
Romulus snorts. “I wasn’t questioning your physical capabilities, Abaddon. I meant when you’re not... intimate with her.”
This time, I’m slower to respond because he’s struck upon something true. I cannot spend every moment in bed with her, though the thought has considerable appeal. Perhaps I should experiment with keeping her there longer. I’ve never tested how quickly my body can recover between encounters. There was never a reason to discover such things. Until now.
“I provide for her,” I say, though she rejected the bear meat. The memory still puzzles me.
“Feeding and lovemaking can only occupy so much of each day,” Romulus observes with his characteristic insight.
I grunt in agreement, knowing he speaks the truth.
“Have you considered simply talking with her?” he suggests.
I frown. “Talking?”
