“It’s all right. We—I mean my brothers and I inherited this hair from our sire… Ah, here is our food.”
His entire mood changed when Izzeri approached, a smile chasing away the grimness. The houseman gave her another appraising look as he laid the dishes on the table then uncovered their contents; fresh rolls, curls of soft, golden butter, and a tureen of steaming broth.
“Why does Izzeri look at me like that?” she lowered her voice to ask as she split open a fresh roll and lathered it with butter.
Amusement lifted the corner of Aerén’s lips. He shook his head. “Let us eat first. Questions later.”
***
Night settled like a blanket around them. Orb-like lights from the ceiling cast a golden glow over the house when Eve headed back to Reynner’s room.
She had gotten an answer of sorts from Aerén.Izzeri had never seen someone like you.She didn’t know how to take that remark. But mostly, dinner conversation had included Aerén firing question after question at her about her life. You’d think he’d never heard of a woman living alone and working. Sheesh. Men!
Eve closed the door softly behind her. As she crossed the room, she saw the black tunic Izzeri had draped over the armchair. She checked on Reynner, but he remained in the same position she’d left him, his eyes shut and his mouth in a tight line.
Fighting against the impulse to stroke his face and ease his discomfort, she grabbed the tunic and headed for the bathroom. In relief, Eve shed her rumpled clothes and stepped into the glass shower, only to discover that there were no faucets. She stared at the gentle flow streaming down from the high ledge in the granite wall. Her hopes of a bath dashed.
Now what? How the heck was she to flatten herself against the rough stone surface to shower?
A sudden gush of warm water hit her square in the face.
Argh—Eve sputtered. Wiping away the wetness, she scowled. Sensor operated. She should have known.
Glancing around, Eve found a bar of soap and a jar of gel in a small niche in the wall. She stuck her finger in the goo. Like the forest after the rains, the fresh, familiar scent teased her nose. The pang in her grew. He called to her like an irresistible, seductive flame. God, she didn’t want to start feeling this way about someone, whom instinct warned her to steer clear of.
Eve pushed aside those feelings and hurried through her shower. After toweling off, she hung her washed undies on the towel rail then pulled on the tunic. The shirt swamped her, dropping to mid-thigh. At least it was black and would not reveal her lack of underwear.
She fastened the suede ties, rolled back the too long sleeves, and stilled as an eerie sensation slid over her. The hairs on her arms rose.
Eve hurried into the softly lit bedroom, rubbed the goosebumps on her skin, and glanced around. Movement on the bed diverted her. Reynner strained and grunted, his fingers digging into the mattress like he fought some nightmare that held him in its grips. He rolled over as she sprinted to his side.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She soothed, sweeping the sweat-dampened hair away from his face. And prayed his agitated movements wouldn’t cause his wounds to bleed again. Keeping her tone gentle, she sat on the bed and stroked his arm as she spoke, hoping to ease him.
A sudden slash of pain slammed through her, she jerked back, unable to breathe. Darkness surrounded her, seeping into her mind. It hauled her into its carnivorous jaw, pulling her into his dreams. Panting hard, she blinked and struggled to see through the hazy gloom.
A wet, coppery odor drifted to her. Bile rose to her throat at the stench. Raucous breathing grated her ear.
And there against the shadowy walls of an obscure cell, she saw him.
His gaze wild as an animal’s, he crouched in the shadows, naked. Waiting…
Chapter 7
Reynner remained motionless in the dark dungeon as sludge squelched between his toes.
His wings trailed behind him in the muck, an added weight, unable to conceal them. There wasn’t a smidgen of light to aid his sight. He had no idea how much time, how many years—decades—had passed in this shithole.
The metallic scent of blood layered his nostrils and coated his tongue like he’d sucked on pennies. His breathing labored. Two obscure shapes slithered across the slimy floors.
The bastards were back for their games. He didn’t need light to know that. Their putrid stench of decay took over the sulfur that had become a normal part of his existence.
A flash of cunning obsidian eyes, and the huge, seven-foot-tall, lizard-like creatures attacked, claws ripping at his wounds that had no time to heal. His powers were so muted, all he managed was a weak flare that flickered and died. Only his will spurred on by adrenaline unleashed the beast raging inside and drove him for the kill. He grabbed one scaly fucker around the throat as its talons pierced into his flesh, and twisted the thing’s neck.
A shriek ricocheted off the walls. A lash of razor-sharp nails in his chest forced Reynner to his knees. Pain saturated his being. Slimy saliva dripped over his hair as the wyvern opened its jaw, revealing a mouthful of pointy teeth.
Maybe he’d finally find oblivion. Prayed for it.
Death. So close…so close.
