“Come with me,” he rumbled, his tone brooking no argument.
“A please wouldn’t hurt,” I responded, not bothering to sheathe my tongue.
The intensity of his stare almost caused my limbs to betray me, my legs quivering, but I held my own.
“I’m not begging you to do the job you were hired for,” Cillian responded, pushing up and heading toward the door.
I chewed on my lower lip, tasting blood, but followed.
As much as he was insufferable and arrogant, I didn’t want to sent straight back upstairs. If I could extend my time down here, I’d claim every damn second.
And eventually, I’d claim my freedom.
Chapter 8
Part of me was concerned Cillian would march to the elevators and usher me back up to my prison, but to my surprise, he headed in the opposite direction. The sheer arrogance of not even looking behind him to see if I followed rankled a little. I was tempted to try to make a break for it across the casino, just to see what he’d do, but I had the feeling that would increase my shackles.
I skimmed my gaze over the floor around us, noting how security was stationed in every corner, clear from their black uniforms. Right. “This place is teeming with cameras, isn’t it?”
Cillian slowed and glanced back. “Contemplating your chances if you run? I wouldn’t.”
“Casino security. Right,” I commented, slipping my hands into my pockets as we bypassed chandeliers dripping with crystals, gleaming brass fixtures, and lines of slot machines, half of them jangling.
Cillian snorted. “As if I’d have something so simple watching over you.”
Which meant magic. I didn’t doubt Amelia held the key. She was his right hand, and he seemed to trust her in most things.
“Over this way,” he said, his tone brusque and demanding as usual. The temptation to drag my heels rose, and I did slow my pace to a meander as I soaked in my surroundings. Most patrons at the slots weren’t paying attention to us, but every employee stared wide-eyed. Apparently they weren’t used to appearances from Cillian, and a few all but leapt out of his way as he swept by.
He stepped into a corridor to the right, along which lay massive windows with bright, cheerful sunlight streaming in. I soaked it in, the feeling so close yet so far away. I longed to be out there in the world, in the city, not trapped in the Spires like some fairytale damsel. Still, even sitting in on a meeting and taking notes was a drastic improvement to the wasting away I’d done over the past week. I’d been spiraling when I needed to be sharp.
But shadowing Cillian would keep me sharp.
I stilled in front of a window as the gardens emerged into view. Fountains sparkled under the sunlight, and blooms in an array of pinks, purples, yellows, and reds stretched out, swirling in every direction. The tapestry of explosive color mesmerized me, careful craftsmanship in the layout. How such gorgeousness could exist in Peregrine City was beyond me, especially in this district, but the flowers and greenery seemed to have carved their own space here.
“Are you going to just gawk at it or join me?” Cillian asked, paused at a door that led outside.
My heart raced. He was taking me outside? I licked my lips, not willing to question the chance when I wanted the opportunity so badly. I quickened my pace to catch up, and he pushed the door open with a creak.
The air was fragrant, and the beams of the sun warmed my skin. I drank in a long, slow inhale, and the panic in me quieted for the first time since I’d arrived here. Fuck. Heat pricked at my eyes, but I refused to cry over stepping outside right now. Not in front of him.
“Your notes were thorough,” he commented.
“I worked as a librarian until I was unceremoniously plucked from my life,” I responded, walking a little faster to keep pace. “Note taking, cataloging, are basic skills in my repertoire.”
“You’re well read, then?”
I wasn’t sure whether it was the fact I couldn’t leave or the knowledge something odd was afoot with his choice of keeping me as his personal assistant, but my internal thoughts kept erupting from my mouth. “No, I’m a librarian who hates books.”
A rasping noise sounded from him, suspiciously resembling a laugh. Though that couldn’t be correct, as Cillian Ashmore was a heartless demon who couldn’t see past his own ego.
The soothing sound of water flowing in the distance calmed me, and watching tulips sway in the gentle breeze added to the serenity. The occasional passersby wandered through these gardens, but they seemed to be wildly underutilized compared to the casino floor.
“Why is anyone in there when this exists?” I asked, not expecting an answer.
“People mistake city lights for the stars,” Cillian said. His words were simple, blunt, but they settled deep in my bones with a resonance I didn’t want to admit.
“Then why spend so much time lurking at the tip-top of your Spires?” I asked as we meandered past a burbling fountain, the water droplets sparkling like cut diamonds. Whether it was the cozy rays of the sun or the warm breezes loosening my tongue, something unwound in me despite the monster I walked beside.
