“I guess it’s a good thing I can take care of myself then.” I keep my voice calm, even though I’m freaking out on the inside. I just hope I can make it out of here before my legs give way and I collapse to the floor from exhaustion.
“You should be thanking her for letting you keep your blanket, Hawk. You know damn well she earned it,” Mick chides.
“No, she hasn’t. I wasn’t finished with her. You stopped it.”
My gut tightens at Hawk’s words. “The only reason she didn’t make you submit instead of leaving your bare ass on the floor isbecause she doesn’t know the rules of the dregs,” Mick argues. “Take it as a lesson not to just rely on your magic. You have fifty pounds and a clear height advantage, and she kicked your ass.”
“She didn’t kick my ass.” Hawk looks around. “She got lucky.”
“Sure, let’s go.” Mick motions for me to move, snapping his head to the left. I’m still cautious, but it would be stupid to argue. He’s getting me out of here.
I don’t like having the male at my back, but it’s a little better than being completely unprotected. I’m not dumb enough to think Hawk or anyone else follows the rules here.
When we clear the door, Mick moves to stand beside me. “I had a feeling my evening would be eventful, but fuck if you didn’t surprise me. I suppose you do have thorns.” He’s looking at me in a new light. I still don’t like it, but there’s a scant amount of respect in his gaze that I can appreciate.
“I was trained by the best,” I say without thought.
“Who is that?” Mick turns his head, eager for an answer.
“That will cost you.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “Smart and tough. I’m not sure you’re ready for the shit storm that’s going to come for you, Briar, but at least I won’t be bored. Between you and me, information is only valuable if it isn’t widely known, and everyone knows that Ziv is the combat instructor at the Ivyandthe best.”
But they don’t know he was mine.The thought is sharp and unbidden. I want to look away and blush from either the pride or foolishness of the notion, considering he’s not claiming me as his anymore.
I shrug. “I don’t know who the instructor here is. How was I to know his reputation preceded him?” I defend truthfully.
“Our tutor isn’t a fallen god who disappeared for a hundred years only to resurface rather recently and end up at the Ivy.”
“When’s rather recently?” I question, wondering how I didn’t already know this.
Mick looks down at me. “You mean he doesn’t walk around singing his own praises? I figured he was trying to recruit a bunch of new devotees in a bid to regain his godhood.” He walks toward the stairs in a huff, as if he’s annoyed by the thought of Ziv regaining his power. I didn’t even know it was a possibility. What would happen if he did? Gods don’t have mates. Would I lose him then?Haven’t you already?
My legs want to give out, and I pretend it’s the notion of climbing the stairs again that has me feeling weak.
Mick looks back expectantly, but I’m still rooted in the same spot, trying to get my head on straight. “Twenty years,” he answers. “And now you owe me one.” A grin curls his mouth as if he thinks he got one over on me.
I make no sign to acknowledge his assumption, and instead, I question, “Where am I going now?”
“That little stunt in there earned you a place in the nest. It isn’t quite the upper echelon, but it’s a step closer.”
“The nest?” I question, wondering if the image that pops in my head of a bunch of people piled together on pallets on the floor is where he’s taking me.
Mick ignores my inquiry. “There should be some free space in there, so hopefully you won’t have to fight for a bed tonight.”
Climbing the steps to the next level is easier than I thought it would be, as if my body has realized it can’t fight the inevitable and it’s much simpler to go along with what needs to happen. “Try to keep a low profile for the rest of tonight. While I admire your boldness, I think we both know you’re exhausted.” Mick keeps his words of advice low, even though I don’t see anyone around. With a smooth jerk, he hauls open a door that looks identical to the one downstairs, expecting me to enter. I give him one lingering look before plunging into the dimly lit space.
My first observation is how quiet it is, much more so than the dregs. I don’t even hear any snoring. The door closes soundlessly behind me and steals a little of the light that was penetrating the room. I give my eyes a few precious moments to adjust, allowing me to see the single beds spaced throughout the room, no bunks in sight. If I had to guess with my limited view, I would say there are only half as many beds as there were bunks in the dregs, which means there would only be a quarter of the number of residents. Interesting.
I take a deep breath, and the air seems to come easier just knowing there aren’t as many threats present. When any hope of my vision getting sharper fades, I start scanning the cots for an empty one. All of the outer beds are filled, at least on this side of the room, so I begin my slow tiptoe through the aisles, searching.
The moment I spy a bed that is free of lumps and seems empty, I make a beeline for it. As carefully as I can, I lower myself to the thin padding, hoping it doesn’t squeak. When the bed accepts my weight without complaint, I let out the breath I was holding and curl up on my side. More than once while I lie here, I regret not taking Hawk’s bedding, but I doubt I would have been able to use it without puking anyway. I feel like his scent is still coating the back of my throat.
I squintwhen bright light flares. Fear grips me hard and fast, forcing me to open my eyes against the vivid assault. It takes several blinks before I can make anything out, but when I do, I wish I was still sleeping.
My bed is surrounded by several people, all wearing various expressions that range from confused to wary. I sit up and lick my dry lips. I don’t even remember falling asleep, but once I did,I must have slept hard. My mouth is thick and parched, while my body feels sluggish, even under the threat of attack.
“What are you doing here?” comes a deep voice from behind me. I turn my head, looking for the speaker. He isn’t as large as Ziv, but on the scale of what I would consider normal, he’s at the top. His dark hair is shorn close to his skull, only making his dark features even more pronounced. His eyes, while squinted with a shrewd stare, don’t seem menacing—yet.
