CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Cass’s dagger beckoned, bobbing at Alexei’s hip as he led Xenia through the breezeway.
Could she grab it? Slash Alexei’s throat then fish that key out of his pocket and race down into the dungeon to rescue Cael?
The Deathstalkers wandering the halls chased away her escape fantasies.
Outside, a few spiny plants clacked against the stone walls. A soft yet menacing darkness blanketed the landscape beyond. Were there creatures lurking out there, peering hungrily through these open archways? It always made Xenia nervous, being so exposed here in the middle of nowhere. A rush of relief overtook her as they turned into the stark hallway with the two large doors.
Alexei paused, rapping on the second.
Maksym’s craggy voice rumbled out. “Bring her in.”
They’d taken her shoes again. She assumed it was to discourage escape and she snorted at the futility. But at least she wasn’t without underwear this time.
There was something incredibly arousing about wearing Cael’s underwear. As if he himself were cradling her most intimate areas.
She’d nearly let him access those intimate areas earlier.
She took a few deep breaths, trying to shake off the lingering sensations of their encounter. His hand gripping her neck with a gentle yet commanding pressure. The graze of his lips against hers. The taste of the warm liquid pouring out of his mouth and down her throat.
Sweet Amatu, she’d even surprised herself with that move she’d pulled, sucking down his long, muscular tongue and practically begging him to kiss her.
And for an instant before they’d been interrupted, that telltale nudge against her lower stomach had informed her that he was more than willing. Would he still be once he knew about—
A familiar, syrupy laugh drew Xenia’s attention.
Richelle Pacha swirled sanguine liquid in a wide-bowled glass as she scraped her sneering turquoise gaze over Xenia.
“Honestly Maksym, I don’t know why you’d waste such a fine dress on the livestock,” Richelle said. Her jet-black curls gleamed in the golden light from the candelabras as she tipped her head back to sip her wine. Her tattoo had completely faded.
Xenia glanced down at the glittering, midnight-blue silk dress Maksym had insisted she wear this evening. It wasn’t lost on her that it was the same color as a Shrouded Sister’s dress robes.
The neckline—more demure than the green dress from the other night—tied into a halter and two long strings draped down her exposed back, tickling her bare skin with every step. The fabric hugged her hips and swirled around her legs like a liquid galaxy of stars. Under any other circumstances, she would’ve loved the dress, would’ve felt like a goddess of the night.
But here in this hall, with these monsters, the truth in Richelle’s words stung. Xenia was nothing more than a prize sow on display.
So she decided to lean into the classification.
Staring directly at Richelle, Xenia crinkled her nose and snorted like a pig. Richelle’s shocked face and the choked-up wine that dribbled down the bitch’s chin were epically satisfying.
Even worth the pain from Maksym’s sharp nails digging into her flesh as he dragged her to the table and threw her into a chair.
“Do not test my patience,Sister,” Maksym sneered, his eyes blazing as he poured her a glass of wine. “Or I might start to question your usefulness. Drink.”
“As I was saying, Maksym, our search has been quite challenging so far.” Richelle leaned back in her chair. “We’ve reached out, discreetly, to Alcander. He would’ve been willing to offer us the necklace—for a steep price, no doubt—but he was understandably furious that we hadn’t told him we’d acquired it in the first place. Even though it turned out to be a fake. His wife has abandoned him, which suggests she may have been in on the ruse. We have people searching for her as we speak, but so far she’s proven rather elusive. Our sources have also informed us it was her obliviated sister who hid the necklace, though we can’t access her either. She’s being protected by that bitch bi-form inside the Temple. Even if we could get our hands on her, it’s doubtful we’d get any useful information from her hollowed-out mind.”
Xenia flinched at the callous description of her friend Cora, even as her mind whirled at all the new information. Pagonis’s wife was Cora’s sister? And was workingagainsther husband? That suggested Cora must have been as well, surely?
Richelle fiddled with her cloth napkin, folding and refolding the edges.
“And?” Maksym barked out. “Surely that cannot be the entirety of your report. If so, you may find yourself sleeping downstairs with thelivestock.”
Green sparks snapped at the tips of Maksym’s fingers, clenched so tightly around the stem of his wineglass that Xenia was surprised it didn’t snap in half.
“You have been searching for that necklace for over a week with nothing at all to show for it,” Maksym said. “I’m beginning to ask myself if you and your family are truly capable of the positions I’ve offered you, to rule over the humans in our new world.”
Richelle pressed her shoulders back, sitting up straight and lifting her chin. “Apologies, Maksym,” she sniveled. “We are doing our best, but our enemies appear to be a bit more clever than we’d anticipated. We have some other news as well.” Her voice trailed off.
