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Up and up.
My bare toes stung from cold travertine, leading us higher into the towers.
Only once we’d reached the top floor did Henri throw me a look, then turn left down a stark, icy corridor. The breeze from outside howled through thin arrow slits, causing a haunting lament as cool air ran its elemental fingers through my hair.
Goosebumps shot down my spine as he kept moving, past the strip lighting on the floor and ignoring closed doors bracketing us.
Does he know where he’s going or—
A creak of hinges.
A grunt of someone opening something heavy.
“Ah, shit,” Henri spat under his breath. Turning to granite in front of me, he didn’t move as a door opened and closed a few metres ahead.
A slim, tallish shadow appeared, monochrome in the dark.
No rooms for us to duck into. No nooks or crannies to fake canoodle in.
All we could do was wait as the figure turned toward us. They fell into limping motion, then jerked to a stop. The man’s head shot up; his mouth fell wide. “Ily—”
Peter.
Oh no.
Tearing his gaze off mine, Peter glowered at Henri, then dropped his chin like a well-trained jewel. “Master H.”
Henri seemed to grow taller in the night. “Peter.” Blackness bled through his tone, turning him into a sadistic Dominant. “What the fuck are you doing up here at three in the morning?”
Peter kept his chin down, well used to being cursed and questioned. “Dr Belford’s personal rooms are up here.” His voice sounded respectful, but I couldn’t miss the anger stalking inside him. “I…I needed to see her.”
My heart skipped.
What happened to him? Who happened? What did they do?
Stepping forward, drawn by empathy for my sullen friend, I opened my mouth to ask.
But Henri grabbed me around the nape and forced me to kneel beside him.
In the second I went from standing to bones crunching on the flagstones, I forgot my place and remembered my role.
Pretend, Ily!
Just because we’d been spotted by a jewel instead of a Master didn’t mean we could ever stop acting.
He’s your friend, but he can’t know.
No one must know.
Keeping my gaze on Peter’s bare feet, I didn’t look up.
“Go to bed, Peter,” Henri hissed. “Now.”
“Yes, Master H.” Bowing respectfully, Peter padded past. Or rather, limped past. His fingers drifted over my shoulder before snatching back and continuing on his way.
Henri noticed.
Of course, he noticed.
