They’d been engrossed in experiments all day, testing how long it took the healing suppressant to wear off. A series of bite marks in various states of recovery ran along Cael’s forearm. The bite she’d delivered this morning, soon after he’d swallowed his dose of suppressant, had scabbed over but still looked worse than the others. The four she’d administered since, at various intervals throughout the day, each looked increasingly less deep.
The wound she was about to deliver, moments before their evening meal and his second, final dose of the day, would hopefully heal instantly.
“Ready?” she said, gripping his forearm as her lips curled into a devilish smile.
“You are enjoying this far too much. I can’t tell if it’s the scientific nature of the experimentation that’s turning you on or the fact that I’m willingly allowing you to inflict pain upon me.”
“The pain,” she grinned. “Definitely the pain.”
“Sadist.” His gray eyes gleamed with wicked delight. “Alright, Blondie. Bite me.”
Xenia sank her teeth in hard and deep, right below the crook of his elbow.
Cael didn’t so much as flinch.
She might be insulted if she wasn’t so impressed by his pain tolerance. On any normal individual, she was sure her attack would’ve at least caused an uncomfortable hiss.
A few tiny beads of blood bubbled up from the red crescent she’d inflicted, then flowed into the bend of his elbow, catching in the tiny hairs dotting his forearm.
“Less uncomfortable than a bug bite,” he teased.
She shushed him as she watched the wound fade, the tiny droplets of blood absorbing into his skin.
“That one healed right away,” Xenia said. “Based on the size of the dose they’re giving you, it seems like it takes about twelve hours to wear off. Assuming that’s the amount of time between our meal deliveries. How does your wind feel?”
Cael opened his hand, and Xenia’s curls swirled against her forehead as if she were standing at the edge of the sea on a sun-kissed morning. Gentle and pleasant and nowhere near the typhoon she knew he was capable of.
“I’d say it’s at half capacity,” Cael answered. “If I could skip the night dose, I’d bet my power would be fully replenished by morning.”
The door to the dungeon opened—their evening meal.
Cael hastily rolled down his sleeve before Alexei stopped in front of the cell.
The Deathstalker said nothing as he slid the trays underneath the bars, aiming a pointed glance at the vial of suppressant—a silent command for Cael to consume it in front of him. Which Cael promptly did, licking his lips and smacking them together with a sarcastic exhale of satisfaction.
“Rest up, little mouse. We’re taking you to the Temple in Meridon tomorrow,” Alexei snarled before leaving the dungeon and slamming the door.
“What crawled up his ass?” Cael asked, before ripping into his bread, sending crumbs flying. If Cael had been biting into his own forearm, the wounds would’ve been much more gruesome—but far less amusing for Xenia.
“If you were second-in-command of an operation to take over the world, but your master assigned you to babysit an injured grump and a helpless Shrouded Sister, you’d be pretty pissed too, no?” Xenia asked before breaking off a dainty piece of her own bread.
“Still,” Cael said, “the service in this place is severely lacking.”
Xenia snorted a laugh, even though the joke wasn’t that funny. At least he was trying, and seemed to be in better spirits since they’d been in this cell together. She felt it too, had enjoyed her best night’s sleep in days listening to his gentle breathing next to her.
“Are you worried about tomorrow?” Cael asked, sucking down a spoonful of oatmeal as if it were the most delicious food he’d ever been served.
Xenia couldn’t help a disgusted frown. This oatmeal tasted like the chewed-up worms a mother bird might vomit into her baby’s awaiting mouth. Or at least, what Xenia imagined such a substance would taste like. And she couldn’t decide whether it was more revolting warm or cold.
“Yes,” Xenia answered, choking down her nauseating dinner. “I’d be foolish not to be. I’m not sure I can go through with it.”
But I will, to keep you safe.
“Then don’t,” he said, like it was the easiest decision in the world. “I already told you not to worry about me. If you see an opportunity to get free tomorrow, I want you to promise me you’ll take it.” He chucked his metal bowl onto the tray.
The oatmeal turned to ash in her mouth. “No.”
“Xenia,” Cael whispered, his use of her full name sending prickles down her spine. He rarely addressed her that way these days. It was either Zee or Blondie or some half-grunted syllable to get her attention. “I’ve lived nearly two full lifetimes. You’ve barely started one. If either of us is escaping this situation, it needs to be you.”
