Then again, she had long suspected her father did not know nearly as much as he believed he did. Perhaps, like the protocols, her abilities were yet another part of his grand experiment he simply refused to see.
She would try. She had to. If she failed, they would simply have to find another way out.
Josephine stared straight ahead as Harrod pulled the bolt out of its place and then pushed the heavy metal door open. Her gaze landed on Otto without a moment’s hesitation.
He sat against the wall, legs extended and crossed at the ankles. His hands, which had touched her so gently, with such passion just one day ago, lay neatly folded in his lap.
It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to stop herself from throwing down her burden to run to him. She felt as though she’d been starved and then presented with a feast held just out of reach. It was torture being so close yet unable to touch him.
As she watched, Otto’s great, scarred body subtly flexed, as if he too fought the compulsion to go to her, chains be damned.
“In,” Harrod commanded, gesturing sharply toward Otto with a toss of his head.
Josephine swallowed and forced herself to drop her eyes. It was essential that she not give him any reason to suspect her of their plans, and if she were to suddenly show how little she feared Otto, how desperately she wished to bewithhim, it could spell disaster.
So she walked stiffly into the cell, her boots tapping against the tile, and somehow managed to keep her eyes on his bare feet as she knelt to deposit everything he’d need before him.
“Food and blankets,” she murmured unnecessarily, heart pounding with the need to close the distance between them. That was not all she brought, of course, but Otto would discover that soon enough.
A deep animal rumble filled the cell. “Thank you.”
She stood up slowly, but found herself unable to take a step back.Can’t leave him. Don’t want to. Won’t.
Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop herself from looking up.
Their eyes met. It was like a current of pure heat moved through her, jolting every fine nerve in her body. The idea of leaving him was suddenly so repugnant, she felt the acid crawl of bile move up the back of her throat when she slid her foot backward a single inch.
Otto’s brows drew together as the skin around his mouth tightened. He inclined his head ever-so-slightly toward the door. His gaze was understanding but hard, determined.
She could almost hear his rich, rolling accent in her mind saying,Go, kone. We will be together soon.
“Josephine.” Harrod’s voice was a blast of icy wind against her back. It was not his usual tone — cold, clipped, slightly stilted in an effort to hide his country accent. When he said her name, it was more of a bark, almost territorial in nature. Possessive.
More chilling than his tone was the fact that he used her name at all. NoMiss Wyeth.It was Josephine.HisJosephine.
She was not the only one who heard the message. Otto’s gaze, luminous gold with the desire to shift, flicked to Harrod and stayed there. Slowly, her mate tilted his head to one side. Josephine’s skin prickled as she watched an indefinable change overtake him.
Although he still wore the skin of a battle-scarred man, she knew with absolute certainty that it was the animal staring at Harrod.
And that animal wanted to crush his skull between its jaws.
Worried that her presence would provoke Otto into doing something rash, Josephine summoned the strength to take one step back. Immediately, a low, hair-raising growl rumbled from her mate’s chest.
She desperately wished that there was something she could say to ease his mind. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t fear Harrod, that they would escape soon, that at the very least they would see each other the following day.
The words stayed locked behind her teeth for fear of provoking more of Harrod’s temper. She would not risk him taking out his anger on her mate, bound and vulnerable as he was. It would not be the first time he’d retaliated against a subject she was fond of for some slight, imagined or otherwise.
Once, she’d asked a question he’d deemed impertinent, a simple thing that apparently called into question his credentials as a scientist in front of her father. The next day, she discovered that Rasmus hadn’t been given water since she saw him last — a nearly twenty-four hour span.
Now that Harrod wanted to marry her, have children with her, he was even more dangerous. The gods only knew what he might do to Otto if he discovered the intimacies they’d shared.
Josephine forced herself away, turning slowly to face her father’s assistant, whose cold eyes moved slowly back and forth between herself and her mate.
As she neared the door, a long-fingered hand wrapped around her bicep. Josephine looked up, startled by the contact, to find Harrod squinting into the darkness of the cell. “Is that a scratch on his shoulder?”
She held her breath, vividly recalling how she dug her nails into Otto’s back, neck, and shoulders as he thrust his fingers inside her. In her frenzy, it didn’t occur to her to worry about leaving a mark. At the time, that wasallshe wanted to do.
Before she could think of an excuse as to why she might have had contact with the shifter before stage two, Otto’s smooth, accented voice filled the cell. “A man who’s fought on the front lines ought to have a scratch or two to show for it, don’t you think?”
