She shrugged. “He looked in pain the last time I saw him. Coupled with the rumours that he passes out a lot...it’s only natural to wonder if he’s terminal.”
“He passes out a lot?”
God, empathy and pity and a whole lot of trouble gushed through me.
The agony on his face. The trauma in his voice.
Back in his bedroom, he’d seemed moments away from begging death to take him. His despair had been so thick, it’d choked both of us. His pain was a living entity, devouring him alive but...that wasn’t my story to tell. He couldn’t afford to look weak because then the vultures would arrive, and circle more than they already were.
I might not understand him. I might have very confusing thoughts about him. And I might wish every moment to get out of this place, but...I wasn’t a gossiper and for some reason, he’d given me a smidgen of trust.
If I stood any chance of getting out of here, it was most likely through him so...I’d be loyal to my unofficial, slave-driving employer, and keep his secrets.
I met Evelyn’s eyes, hoping my ability at lying had improved. “He’s absolutely fine. As far as I know, there’s nothing wrong with him. And now, if you don’t mind, I really have to go. It’s been a long,longday.”
I ran before she could stop me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I WOKE UP STARVING.
The adrenaline and stress of yesterday had left me with a hollowed-out feeling. Whisper also hadn’t come to visit me in the night, which made me fear that Lucien still wasn’t well.
The urge to check on him caught me by surprise.
What did it matter to me that he was hurting?
He was a stranger. An enemy.
He was the reason I was in this mess.
Not really though...
He wasn’t the one who’d tested my blood and thrown me in here.
In a way, we were allies and all the men outside Cinderkeep were the true villains.
I sighed, unable to even convince myself that I wasn’t in humongous trouble where he was concerned.
My gaze went to the gravel-rash that’d long since healed on my palm. The men who’d trapped me here under false pretences had stolen my DNA to see if I was compatible with him. At the time, I hadn’t understood, and I still had far too many unanswered questions, but...if his bloodwasdifferent from other humans, I supposed it made sense that they’d need to find someone with a similar make-up?
But what does it mean that they chose me?
Werewe similar?
We seemed to share an unnatural habit of passing out at random times but that only meant we sucked at life in general, not that we were special.
My stomach growled again, forcing me from my bed and into the white-tiled shower.
Once I’d dressed in a cream floaty dress that didn’t dare cling to me too tightly, I went straight to the wine cupboard.
When the pantry and fridge had been restocked the other day, the wine hadn’t been replaced, and even though I knew the shelves were bare, I still had to check.
My plans for the day—after submitting to awful servitude yesterday—included lying in the garden, soaking up the wonderful sunshine, and taking a long, restorative nap once I’d devoured a picnic for one.
But...no wine meant my nap might not be as deep and as long as I hoped.
Fine.
