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‘I’m not your slave!’ I hiss at them.
Dane rolls his eyes. ‘Seen any free humans about lately?’
I sink into the bed. ‘No,’ I whisper.
He glances at me. ‘It doesn’t matter what else you are. You look, smell, sound, taste, and feel human.’
‘We could remove the binding,’ Grey suggests, sitting back and regarding me. ‘Let her be what she is.’
My stomach lurches, and I look away from him.
‘You’re not serious.’ Dane laughs, rubbing a hand down his face. ‘That isn’t an option.’
He looks at me, not seeming to notice how even the idea of them setting me loose on the town makes me want to retch. His mouth twists into a sneer.
‘Whatever deal you tried to make, she’d ignore and just kill us, wouldn’t you, Harbinger.’
I don’t answer. The point is moot, anyway. I’ll never use it. Not ever again. I don’t care what’s done to me.
I close my eyes, not wanting this talk to continue, and the blanket is tucked around me a few moments later.
When I next wake, the room is dark. One of them is lying next to me, his arm thrown over me. I try to remove it and gasp as it tightens and drags me closer.
‘Where are you going?’ Kallum asks in my ear, sounding wide awake.
‘I need to use the chamber pot,’ I whisper.
‘All right,’ he mutters. ‘Wait, and I’ll help.’
I don’t want his assistance, but when I try to stand on my own, my legs buckle. He catches me and tuts.
‘Silly,’ he admonishes, scooping me up and carrying me to the other side of the room with ease.
I struggle in his arms. ‘Put me down!’ I hiss, but he doesn’t until we’re behind the screen.
He stands me in the middle of the floor and slides the chamber pot from its place on a shelf, handing it to me.
But as soon as I take the weight of the clay pot, it slips from my grasp, and he catches it before it hits the floor.
‘I can’t hold it,’ I say, my voice breaking. ‘It’s too heavy.’
Tears come to my eyes. I’m so weak. It’s pathetic!
‘Let me hold it,’ Kallum says.
My pride dies a death as I widen my stance and squat over the pot that Kallum holds.
When I finish, and he takes the pot away, I stand and wait for him, not trusting my legs to hold me on the short walk back to the bed. Shame envelopes me as he swings me back up into his hold.
‘I hate this,’ I whisper, not expecting him to hear.
‘I know, love,’ he murmurs, and he kisses the top of my head.
I blink in the dark at his endearment and affectionate action, and he seems to realize what he did as well, his body stiffening.
But he lays me back in the bed carefully and then I see his shadow move across the room to grab something.
‘Here,’ he says, putting it on the bed in front of me.
