I might pass out. I’d prefer it, really.
Fable lowers to one knee and offers the platter under my nose. It smells like the butcher shop in Caldera. My stomach convulses, and I turn away.
He growls and spills blood over the top of my head, fresh and warm, dripping down my hair and onto my arms.
I observe Kelter, from the raw flesh and bone in his hand to the feral look on his face. “What in the holy double ass fuck is going on, Kelter?”
“You said she was beautiful.” Zandrite looks me up and down and picks out a tendon from between his teeth. “But you didn’t mention that mouth.”
“She came here to be withme,” Kelter says, his eyes darting from me to Zandrite.
I flip him off.
“Her name?” Zandrite asks, still staring at me.
“Mini,” I answer, before Kelter can, giving him the name that Trudence called me.
Zandrite cocks his head to the side before snapping it toward Kelter. “Let me see her. Show me this girl is worth my generosity toward you. I let you live. I sat you at my side. Now what do I get in return?”
I roll up into a ball and turn my head, searching Kelter’s frozen face. Has he been threatened? Drugged? Am I next?
Fable taps his claws on the platter. “She’s not worth your time. Let me bring you a Half Link instead, one of the repeat Trophies you always enjoy.”
I dig my nails into the dirt floor.
“But her eyes. Those I like,” Zandrite says, his own green eyes lowered.
Kelter rises, throwing the uneaten leg bone aside as he reaches his full height. And I stare. Not at his tattooed chest or new muscles. Not at the face that smiled at me day after day in Caldera, now angled and serious. All those things I can grasp. But this?
He’s inches taller than he was only days ago.Inches.Even with all I’ve seen these last months,thatstretches my mind in ways it doesn’t want to go. He steps away from the throne, feet bare and dirty. “You can’t have her yet.”
Yet?
Zandrite’s voice rumbles from his massive chest and carries through the room. “And why would that be?”
“She’s mine.” Kelter avoids my gaze. “You know I need her right now.”
“Yours?” I snap.
Zandrite inspects Kelter’s fixed jaw and conviction. “I get whatever I want in the Underbroke.” His grin tunnels under my skin. “And sharing is encouraged.”
“Understood,” Kelter says with a humble nod.
I sit back up to properly scowl at the man-god. “I’d rather have my skin splayed on the wall than besharedwith you.”
Kelter takes another step toward me. Almost close enough to punch in the balls.
Perfect.
Zandrite dips his head. “Go on. Let’s see what’s underneath.”
Kelter squats down in front of me, his tan skin decorated with drops of animal blood. “Don’t make this difficult,” he whispers.
I gawk at him, not believing the reality before me. “Who are you?”
He simply swallows, grabs the edges of my shirt and lifts. I fight despite the pain in my shoulder shredding my senses. I pin my elbows over the blue fabric and tuck my chin to my chest, but Kelter pulls upward, nearly lifting me off the dirt floor, and despite every effort, every yell and kick and punch and bite directed at him, the shirt slips past my face and over my head. I’m left with fearful arms crossed over my bra.
I can’t find a single word to say to my friend. He took more than my shirt. He stole everything I thought we were, could still be.
