Sweat drips down over my eyes. I blink the sting away.
“Sixty-one.”
The black iron pipe that runs along the ceiling that I have my feet hooked on groans. I don’t stop, though.
“Sixty-two.”
More sweat trickles down my neck, jaw, and over my eyes.
I can imagine my cell doesn’t smell too pleasant with me sweating profusely.
“Sixty-three,” I huff, my abs and core screaming.
I count out loud to distract from the pain, even though I welcome it.
Never before had I realized how many hours there are in a day. How many hours one must fill with something—anything—to not go insane.
Apparently, I used to be a busy man. Boredom was a stranger I’ve heard about from others, but never encountered myself.
Until now.
“Sixty-four,” I growl.
Ladies love abs.
So, having all this time to myself and filling it with workouts will do me good.
Hopefully Phoenix loves abs, too.
Has she ever checked me out? I think she has. That time I played Caetra to steal from Nobleman Uringi for her.
I’m a hundred percent certain I’ve seen her looking me up and down, stunned, as if she couldn’t believe she herself liked what she saw.
A satisfied smirk curls my mouth. “Sixty-five.”
Steps echo in the distance, I hear them even through my cell door. Immediately, I freeze, listening.
It’s her.
But she’s not alone.
She’s never alone anymore. Which is probably not a surprise considering she’stheEzkai General.
Most powerful woman in Ekios.
Most stunning, too.
Just as I reach for the pipe to try to get a good grip so I can unhook my feet, the key turns in my cell’s lock and it creaks open. The good thing about being only half fae is that touching iron doesn’t hurt as much. It feels more like an annoying tickle than a painful burn.
“Stay outside,” Phoenix barks at her Ezkai guards when they try to follow her inside, and then she slams the door shut behind her.
I hang from the ceiling for a beat, taking her in.
She exhales deeply and leans against the door. Only when the back of her head rests against it does she look up.
At first, her gaze catches my naked abs, then rises to my chest. Her eyes widen a fraction, lips part a bit.
She’s lost in whatever thoughts run in that pretty head of hers.
