The empath.
Newborn. Clumsy and curious, it pulsed from my skin into hers. Messy. Wreaking delightful havoc.
I drank her in. Watched her pupils balloon wide as a delicious tendril of fear spiked through her brainstem. Pulling at everything that went unseen, I took what little she had and made it my own. Patching the holes the captain had left behind with the vitality of his intended bride.
She staggered.
“Easy now,” Gabe said, and caught the fragile woman before she hit the floor. “Let’s get you home, eh?”
Panting through gaping lips, I blinked. Nipples tiny, beaded points that strained against the fabric of my silken dress. Sweat dotting all along my hairline as my vision grew swampy with a distorted haze, as the contact between us was broken and Gabe escorted the drunkard away from my presence.
I swayed, tongue thick and tacky inside my mouth. Cheeks flushed, my brain swollen, pressed tight against the inside of my skull in such a way that made my neck ache with the effort to keep myself upright.
Spinning and wobbly.
A rough hand settled on my shoulder blade.
Marco.
His identity flashed behind my eyes without my having to look, but was gone before I could reach for more.
Feet moving, I stumbled into the captain’s office at Marco’s insistence—and faltered when I saw a familiar head of ebon-black hair. Forehead resting on steepled fingers, the captain was dressed in the same clothing he’d been wearing when I’d seen him last.
But now he was rumpled. Disheveled.
His hair mussed, sticking out at odd angles.
Marco cleared his throat, drawing that inky gaze up to reveal bloodshot eyes both glassy and unfocused.
“Carina is a…” Marco trailed off, pausing to pull out a chair and fold himself into it, leaving me idle and swaying in the background, excluded at the fringe of their private chat. “She’s an…interestingchoice for marriage, sir.”
The captain snorted, running long fingers through his hair. “She’s a toxic whore,” he said, “but she’s got good breeding.” Scrubbing one palm down his face, he scratched at his stubble then poured himself another drink. “Haven’t decided if I want to accept her proposal just yet.”
Marco snatched the glass of amber liquid, draining it in two messy swallows. “Seems eager enough. Comes with more than a few beneficial political connections.”
“Yeah,” the captain said, and set his lips directly to the decanter. “And it’ll tie me to the Savoy’s for the rest of time.” Tilting his head back, the captain drank. His throat bobbing as he worked, eyes drifting closed. Tight at the edges as if the mere thought of Carina left him in pain.
Wincing, Marco set both elbows to his knees and watched, waiting until the other took a ragged breath and cradled the bottle to his chest, before he said, “That wouldn’t besobad, would it? Least the view is nice.”
“I’m too fuckin’ drunk for this.” The captain blew a noisy breath through his nose. “Or maybe I’m not drunkenough. Anything to report from the manse?”
Marco shook his head. “Aside from getting turned down by Alicia more times than I can count, it was quiet all day. No sign of Tilcot.”
Nodding, the captain set his bottle aside and placed both palms flat on the table. Fingers spread, he took a breath, then stood. “Won’t last. He’ll make a move. Just gotta be ready for it.”
“But a night off is nothin’ to sneer at,” Marco concluded, before he too was on his feet. “Have sweet dreams, old man.”
“Ha,” the captain drawled. “Remind me to kick your ass in the morning, hmm?”
Marco saluted, tapping his heels together. “Absolutely, sir. I’ll be sure to book us time in the fighting pits. Right at the ass crack of dawn, so we can get a solid workout in before the day begins. Nothing better to cure a hangover.”
Squinting through bleary eyes, the captain chuckled. “You’ll need every unfair advantage you can get, boy. Mila, come,” the captain barked, and clapped one hand on the soldier’s shoulder before he exited the office.
I cursed, staggering along behind him on unsteady feet. Head sloshing about inside my skull, seized by his influence, I was given no choice but to obey. Was too disoriented from the rush of Carina’s boozy energy to fight.
Toxic, indeed.
Tasting her had left me without a tether. My senses dulled, swirling around my skull in a fog that tingled where it spread. Tongue tacked to the roof of my mouth, I was parched. Thirsty enough to demand, “Water,” and reach for the back of the captain’s shirt. “I’m thirsty.”
