He made a small noise and held up the knife.
Adrian growled and snatched the knife from him. “Shut up.” He marched out of the room, his back painfully straight.
Haru swallowed a giggle as he chased him. “I believe you said no killing. Is my memory faulty? Did I misunderstand you?”
“Whatever. That guy was aiming a gun at your head,” Adrian snapped as he stopped on the stairs. “You weren’t paying proper attention to your surroundings. I had to do something.”
“You protected me,” Haru purred.
“I had to, Mr.Cousin to the King.” His voice was a harsh whisper, but it still seemed to echo through the stairwell. “Not to mention, you’re the grandson or nephew of the head of the Omari Clan; like that doesn’t make you some kind of royal. Oh, and let’s not forget Shey. I’m up to my goddamn eyeballs in troublemaking royals.”
Haru had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Adrian was grumpy. He’d taken a life to keep Haru safe. That was an excellent sign that his affections were progressing in the right direction. It was just a matter of time—Adrian would be his.
For now, he was content to take things slowly. They had enough to worry about with locating Prince Shey. The sun finished sinking below the distant horizon, and the few working streetlamps flickered on to shove aside swaths of thick darkness.Haru strolled beside Adrian, his hands hanging loose at his sides, prepared to snatch Adrian from danger in a flash if it became necessary. However, Adrian’s stride was quick with the stomp of his boots on the pavement. A scowl twisted his normally handsome features, and he appeared fierce and dangerous.
Was he still sexy?
Oh yes, very sexy. Haru allowed himself to fantasize about all the things he could do to Adrian to make that angry expression melt away until he was gasping and moaning…
Nope. Nope.
Not now.
He shook his head to clear away those thoughts.
“What’s wrong?” Adrian demanded. “You shook your head.”
“Nothing. Lost in thought for a second,” Haru said, pushing a smile onto his lips. “This pit? In Voxmore? This is a city in Damardor?” Haru prodded.
Adrian’s brow wrinkled as he stared at Haru for a heartbeat, as if he didn’t quite believe what he had said. But a moment later, he spoke, letting Haru’s suspicious behavior slide. “Mn. Rural town south of Bellcairn. I don’t know anything about it, so it’s at least not a major city.”
“What did you mean by a black site?”
Adrian shoved a hand through his sweaty hair, leaving it an adorable mess that was standing up in every direction. “It means that it’s a so-called secret location where the country’s rules no longer apply. The government uses places like that to gather up people they suspect of being spies or insurrectionists or even just political opponents, whatever excuse they want to use. They probably torture and question them before killing them and dumping their bodies in a mass grave.”
“That’s disgusting,” Haru snarled.
“It is.”
“And we’re going there?”
Adrian nodded. “It’s the best lead we have right now. I hope that asshole is wrong, and Shey hasn’t been taken there, but we have to check it.”
“When we’re done with this black site, you’ll allow me to burn it down, correct?”
Adrian looked over at Haru and grinned. “If we have time, I’ll let you turn it to ash.”
Yes, this is an excellent plan.
CHAPTER 3
Shey Thrudesh-Vo
Shey woke to a pounding head and the horrible taste of cotton in his mouth. He blinked several times to get his eyes to focus through the bright lights. At least he wasn’t dead. That was one positive, but he had a feeling that all the positives were going to stop there.
His bleary eyes cleared, allowing him to take in his surroundings. He was in a cell. On three sides were plain white cinder block walls, while the floor was a dull gray cement with a tiny circular drain in the center. That was more than a little disturbing. In the far corner were a toilet and a small sink. He sat up from the bed he was lying on and found that it was nothing more than a thin mattress on a metal shelf bolted to the wall.
Bars formed the fourth wall, revealing a narrow corridor and an empty cell opposite his. The smell of bleach was strong in the air, and an icy chill ran along his spine as he found his eyes straying to the drain in the floor again. It would make it easy for his captors to torture their prisoners in their cells and then use a hose to clean the room after their captive was dead.
