Page 108

I close my eyes and hold onto that, repeating the words silently until my breathing begins to slow. Rhys has never given me a reason to believe he won’t do exactly what he says. Actually, everything I know about him tells me the opposite. He came with me when I needed him and followed me all the way back down the mountain even though stepping into this village risks exposing the secret he has protected for years. Somewhere downstairs, he is doing exactly what I begged him to do.

He’s getting my father.

A door closes somewhere nearby, and my eyes snap open.

Footsteps move through the corridor.

Not downstairs this time. On this floor.

They’re close enough that I can hear the strike of boots against the floor. Relief hits me so quickly that I almost crawl out of the alcove. My hand reaches for the edge of the cabinet, but I stop myself. Rhys knows exactly where I am. There would be no reason for him to move slowly from room to room when all he has to do is come directly here.

The footsteps stop.

I pull my hand back and press myself deeper into the shadows. A door opens, its hinges creaking softly, then closes again. Several seconds later, another opens farther down the hall, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone moving things around inside.

Someone is searching the rooms.

I clamp one hand over my mouth, suddenly terrified that even the smallest breath will give me away. I shrink farther into the alcove until the rough stone digs painfully into my spine. Another door opens and closes, then another. Each one is closer than the last. The footsteps resume, approaching the cabinet Rhys hid me behind.

One step.

Another.

Closer.

I stare through the narrow opening, hardly breathing. A shadow stretches across the floor and slides slowly over the wall opposite me, growing larger until a pair of polished black boots enters my line of sight.

They stop directly in front of the cabinet.

My heart pounds. I can feel every beat in my throat. I press my palm harder over my mouth and stare at those boots, terrified to move, breathe or even blink.

Several seconds pass.

Then they turn away.

My shoulders sag against the wall, and I close my eyes for only a second when the footsteps begin moving away.

A hand reaches around the cabinet and closes around my wrist.

I scream before I can stop myself and jerk backward, but whoever has me yanks hard enough to drag me straight out of the alcove. My shoulder slams against the cabinet when I stumble into the corridor. I twist, trying to wrench my wrist free, but another hand catches the front of my shirt and jerks me upright.

Then I smell him.

That expensive cologne fills my lungs, and suddenly I’m back on the floor of my father’s house with rope cutting into my wrists and Lucien holding me down. My body remembers what happened there faster than my mind can stop it.

I know that grip.

I know that smell.

And when Lucien leans closer, his breath warm against my ear, I know that voice.

“There you are.”

Every part of me goes cold.

His arm wraps around my chest before I can twist away, locking me tightly against him. His other hand catches both my wrists and pins them against my stomach so hard that my fingers immediately begin to ache.

“Lucien,” I gasp.