He twitched. Forearm compressing my ribs, hand convulsing around cupped breast. The sort of twitch that preceded exhausted sleep and spoke of slaked lust—exactlythe sort that heralded the coming ofmymoment.
I swallowed, staring at the ceiling with dry, itchy eyes, and fought the urge to succumb. Instead, trying to wriggle free from his embrace.
He jerked, coming awake with a startled inhale and a half snore, tightening his grip and tucking me closer to his chest. “What—”
“I have to pee,” I whispered, but couldn’t meet his bleary gaze. Couldn’t bear to see the drowsy contentment begging me to stay.
But he grunted, snuffling at my temple, then said, “Don’t be long,” and pulled his pendant forward. Over his head, and with a sluggish flick of his wrist, tossed it onto the bedside table.
I fled. Rushing from soiled sheets and satiated Elite lounging in a bed of lies, I fled. Past the heap of ruined silk hiding a secret of iron and Glaith. Pausing on the threshold of the bathroom to catch a glimpse of what would come next.
And there it was. Tucked under the desk, exactly as Alicia had said. A case with tarnished brass buckles, reeking of mystery.
I pushed the bathroom door closed with a gentlesnapand left it where it was.
Before anything else, I used the facilities. Almost too scared to wipe and discover justhowvirile the Captain really was. But I tidied myself up at the sink, casting a longing eye toward the shower, yet knowing there wasn’t time for such vanity. Not with so little between me and that case. No, what I needed now, was a plan.
Pushing a hand through my hair, I stilled, catching the overbright eye of a girl whose lips were swollen and too red. Whose hair was a wild mess of silvery blonde, framing cheeks stained with the unmistakable evidence of just how much it had cost to gain this moment of privacy, such as it was. A girl who lookedalive,in spite of golden collar. Whose wildness was not born of Kas’ teachings, but the attention of a man well-versed in the handling of a slave.
Apleasureslave.
I swallowed,hard, scowling at the girl who looked like she belonged.
Only a shade of the Wood’s Menace glared back.
There was always another way.Always.When my world had crumbled all around me, had I not built a new one? Had I not found surrogate guardians in and Kas and the Grandmother, anddefendedthem in spite of the High Priestess’ decree that I was destined to become an Empath? It wasn’t a killer without thought or remorse who’d sent refugees to safer lands. And neither was it a beast of mindless hunger who’d denied Belle’s many ultimatums.
Impossible odds had never stopped me before, no matter that I’d been tamed and broken in.
Eyes drifting shut, I looked in. Looked to the bond to see what I might see.
What I found neededvisualconfirmation.
Hardly daring to believe my compromised senses, I pushed the bathroom door open. Just a crack. Just enough to see an arm slung over the captain’s face. To get distracted by the rumpled bed clothes draped over lean muscle and partial nudity. But it was the rhythmic rise and fall of his taut belly and the unmistakable cadence of lightsnoringthat showed me the way.
The captain wassleeping—just as Alicia had said he would.
I couldn’t blame him. Not really. Ithadbeen a trying few days of near constant vigil. The poor, foolish man needed his rest.
Stalking toward my prize on silent feet, I denied the urge to grin for fear of disturbing him, and crept toward his desk. Moving only when his snoring could offer cover, I crouched. Naked. Palms and tiptoes pressed to the carpet, I inched closer.
One limb at a time, as Kas had taught me. Never taking my eyes off the most powerful ki-wielder who’d ever lived. Keeping my ki as compressed and far from the bond as I could manage in my corrupted state.
And when my fingers wrapped around the handle, claiming Sasha’s case, I knew an instant of stark terror. Felt it blend with the approach of that long-awaited moment and become something new. Something I’d never felt before and couldn’t name.
Oblivious, the captain slumbered on, radiating a heavy and lethargic song that spoke of pure contentment.
Completion.
Stomping the urge to celebrate prematurely, I retreated once more, withdrawing into the bathroom with my prize clutched to my breasts. Hoping the weight of this enigma was some long forgotten Priestess weapon of apocalyptic might, I perched on my haunches and opened the case.
At first, as I inspected the four objects tucked within, I knew true dejection. Fell from the height of victory before I’d scaled the summit, and paid a price I could never reclaim—all for two relics used to laud a dead Goddess, and the very tools used to bring about Her fall and mine.
Sasha hadn’t even the decency to leave a note, explaining her madness.
Tracing the symbol for Priestess with my forefinger, I swallowed back the rage. She’d spent years playing my puppet master, training the man who’d taken everything I had to give, only to mock me in my loneliest hour?
Why?
