Starved for a thing I had only been made to taste.
Teeth bared, I kicked free of tangled, cloying sheets and sprang from the bed. A blur of pale, naked skin. Sides heaving with exertion, as if I’d been running through summer’s thick, muggy heat.
Eyes darting about the darkened room, I stood with fists clenched at my sides. Trembling, every muscle taut with tension, trying to take in my surroundings, to find a weapon before I was discovered awake and alone in the captain’s private quarters.
But what I found wasn’t the sinister den of torment I’d thought it to be. Illuminated by early morning sunlight, what had previously been concealed in shadow was nothing more than a richly appointed bedroom. A man’s sparse sense of decoration, void of color that wasn’t the traditional Caledonian black and gold. Furnished without a whisper of clutter.
A space that was far less threateningwithoutthe captain in it.
Heading for the en suit bathroom, I relieved myself in private. Grateful for the luxury of amenities after so long living in the wood, yet not daring to flush for fear of drawing attention to myself.
At least, not until I’d dressed. Until I was armed with something more than pointless begging that fell on merciless ears.
Rummaging through the captain’s personal effects, I found military uniforms, clothing that reeked of luxury, but not so much as a stitch even remotely close to my size. Not even the dreadful slave silks he’d dressed me in the last time I’d woken in this room with no idea how I’d come to be here.
“Try the closet,” said a snide voice.
I whirled with fists clenched, feet braced shoulder width apart before I thought to hide my nudity.
Beau.
Sneering around a truly spectacular bruise that matched the imprint of my knuckles, the elderly slave let milky eyes wander over my breasts—cataloguing everything else below them—making sure I could see just how unimpressive I really was. “You’ll be wanting another bath, I’m sure. The master doesn’t tolerate the stench of sour pussy on his whores.”
I smiled, showing teeth before I turned and pulled a sheet off the bed, ignoring the vulgar slur. “What’s it like?” I asked instead, and took my time in dressing. Eyes fixed to her every subtle movement, searching for the weakness I could sense lurking just beyond sight.
One grey brow rose as she stooped to retrieve a rumpled garment. “I beg your pardon?”
“You helped to give him a priestess. A prized resource growing more fleeting with every passing hour.” I shrugged, head cocked as I watched her pick up after her master, one hand twisted in the fabric bunched over my chest. “What’s it like to know you’ll never achieve anything more significant than that? Do you just… wait for death, or is there some other purpose you might fulfill? I can’t imagine there’s much in the way of demand for a retired whore that’s…well.” My eyes flicked down her body, returning her gracious sentiment. “But wearedeep inside the Empire of Caledonia, so what could I really know about it?”
She spluttered, face going waxy. “You insolent little girl! I’ve dedicated a lifetime in service to the Rawlings bloodline, and—”
“And all I have to do is breathe,” I said, “and I’m more important than you’ll ever be.” I took a step toward her, sheets trailing along in my wake as I paced closer. Filling my lungs with a delicious aroma I was becoming intimately familiar with.
Righteous fury—the scent so thick in the air I could taste it. Could feel the heat of such indignant angst that I was moved to warm myself in the crackle of dark flames. To feed from the perfume wafting from deep inside her aging body until it became something new.
Fear.
Her face flushed an ugly shade that clashed with her bruised eye socket.
But I spoke before she could strain herself too much, a feral, toothy smile spreading across my lips. “No one’s here to save you this time, Beau. But… would anyone really notice if something…sinisterwere to happen here today? Would anyone care, or would you be replaced before anyone thought to question your absence?”
“Thank you, Beau,” the captain said, and shattered the spell. Arms crossed, shoulder braced against the doorframe, he watched me through a narrow glare. “You may take the rest of the day for yourself, but please send Alicia, will you? Mila needs an escort.”
She nodded, and without a word, fled. Defeated. The shine of wetness visible on her blotchy cheeks.
The captain pushed off the doorframe. “That was some truly inspired cruelty, pet. Care to pick a fight with a more worthy opponent?”
I retreated with a curled lip. Knees soft, coiled for the coming battle I fully intended to provoke, I clutched the fabric closer to my breasts. “Don’t you have a war to wage on innocent citizens? Oh, that’s right,” I said, refusing to give up my back. “You’re Captain Asher Rawlings. The impotent soldier who can’t fight.”
The crackle of ravenous energy blazed in my core. Demanding to be fed. To feast until there was nothing left.
“Funny girl,” he drawled, advancing on silent feet. “But now that I’m off duty, I’ve all the time in the world to dedicate to trainingmy unruly priestess.” He took another rolling step, insatiable greed crackling in the air between us. “My little empath.”
Muscles tense, I watched him without blinking.
“I’ve got you all to myself,” he drawled, obsidian eyes gleaming in the half-light. Taunting me. “And there’s no one,” he murmured with a smirk, “who’s coming to save you, Mila. Not this time.”
With a sneer, I stepped to the side—and the sheet got tangled between my feet.
