Page 153 of A Sweet Destruction

Objectively, not very good.

Still, not even breaking the top ten.

It was the reason I was able to slowly blink my eyes open, finding Elijah sitting in front of me with arms rested on his thighs and hands clasped together, and didn’t promptly start crying.

“Hello,” I said, my throat scratching painfully. I didn’t even try to hide my wince. “Could I have some water, please?”

Elijah blinked at me like I was insane. I’d been told I was before, learned to not let it bother me. “Water?”

“Yes.” Clearly he’d heard me. You could hear it in my voice that I needed it. What was so confusing about that?

Even then, Elijah moved slowly as he reached into a bag next to him and withdrew a water bottle. As he did, I wrestled myself into a seated position, only taking passive notice of the fact that we were in the back of a van of some sorts, sitting on long benches built into the wall.

He passed it to me, stopping when he realized I didn’t have hands to take it from him. I half expected him to revoke the offer, but he unscrewed the top with a scowl on his face and shoved it toward me unceremoniously.

Only about half of the water that poured out of the bottle made it in my mouth, leaving the rest streaming down my chin.

I couldn’t care, not with my hands tied behind my back, and Elijah didn’t seem to either.

“Should I wait for you to start speaking or can I start asking questions?” I asked after several minutes of silence.

Elijah’s eyes narrowed into slits. “If you want to know why you’re sitting here, I’m afraid that’s a much longer conversation.”

“Well, we can certainly get started. We have a while to go on the drive, I assume.”

Though I had a healthy dose of fear tightening my stomach, I wasn’t as shaken up as I probably should have been. Certainly as much as Elijah expected me to be.

He leaned forward slowly, clearly trying to intimidate. Unfortunately for him, the nervous titter proximity to him caused was an old friend at this point. I’d gotten good at hiding it.

When he did nothing but stare and stare and stare, I took that as permission to keep speaking. “You wouldn’t be taking me back to Salona. Definitely deeper into Muli. So at least a couple more hours to go, right?”

Elijah nodded slowly. “I’m taking you to the capital.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” I said, and meant it.

Elijah blinked once. “Nice? Do you think I’m taking you on a vacation? You are very clearly my prisoner.”

“I know.” I wasn’t all that pleased that he was doubting my intellect. “Prisoner or not, it will still be cool to see it.”

“Right. Cool.” It took a few stiff nods and several seconds for Elijah to compose himself enough to speak again. Whatever he was going to say was lost as the van whipped to the side, sending me straight him, unable to catch myself with anything other than my face.

Despite the smarting in my nose, it wasn’t the worst, I realized. Actually oddly nice, a buzzing warmth from his chest to my cheek.

The hands that pushed me back to sitting were mechanical and cold.

So was Elijah’s expression, set in stone.

“What?” he barked, before the door even opened.

Anya—one of Elijah’s close company who had always looked at me with a too-observant expression that made me nervous—was standing there, somehow looking less pleased than him.

“I heard talking, your grace,” she said, sliding her gaze to me for no more than a second. “You told me that when she woke up, I needed to stop.”

Elijah certainly didn’t seem to remember telling her that. “Right,” he said again, very slowly.

“Whatever,” Anya said with a heavy eye roll. “Tom won’t stop bitching about having to take a piss. We’ll be back in a few.” This, with a deeply annoyed look in my direction.

“Well, she seems like a joy,” I said, as she closed the door behind her.