Unlocking the door with a series of sharp movements, she then took hold of my arm and guided me roughly into the cell, closing the door behind me and mumbling something about being back soon.
“You really need to be nicer. I’ll be the one who pays for your rude disrespect,” I chastised, looking around the chambers that were nicer than the outside had led me to believe.
Larger and nicer than some apartments. A single table held a dark ceramic mug and a sheaf of paper, next to it a chair with worn velvet cushioning. Three books stood upright on a tiny shelf hammered into the rock, their spines blank as if the scribe who’d bound them thought titles encouraged escape. The walls were bare, with only a nail above the bed and the outline of where an old tapestry or painting had hung. Shadows from the restless movement of torchlight moved over the walls. Even the air was nicer here, less dense. I let the door’s echo die before turning to him.
He sized me up, chin lifted, and I could see the shifting of his mouth—a tick, a hesitation. I wanted desperately for him to admit he’d spent at least part of his time here waiting andexpecting me. There was nowhere for him to put his hands, so he crossed them in front of him.
I couldn’t help myself. I reached for him. The moment my fingers touched his sleeve, he rested his fingers against it.
“You’re worried about me?” Doubt threaded through his voice.
“How can I not be?” Searching his face, I saw the spark of dark mischief but not the concern, fear, and remorse I’d expected. “Sayier said you could be sentenced to death.” My voice was a hollow whisper that I didn’t even recognize.
His fingers traced an outline along my hand. I was no longer sure if the need for contact was to comfort him or me.
Guiding me to sit in the chair, he sat on the bed. The distance between us was too much, so I scooted it closer to him.
“What do you need me to say to help you?”
He laughed. It wasn’t bitter like someone running on hope and anger. Nor was it like someone who’d conceded to their fate. His stolid expression didn’t give me any feedback.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t understand you,” I admitted. Leaning into him and resting my forehead on his shoulder, I inhaled his scent. Nothing about it had changed, and with his magic probably inhibited, his body hummed with subdued energy.
“I killed Diehle and performed magic to nullify a collection. How can you spin this in my favor?”
Shifting from him, I sat up taller. The muscle in his jaw ticked, but it settled back into his emotionless expression. “Little minx, is it my life you’re worried about or yours? If I were to unbind you from me, would you still be this concerned about my life?” The heavy curiosity in his gaze made it difficult to hold.
“Yes, and I’d still release the lycans because I promised you and it’s the right thing to do.”
He didn’t take his eyes off me as he repositioned himself over me, giving me an unexpected kiss on the cheek that was more sensual than the kiss we’d shared. His shrug of indifference caused an eruption of anger in me that I couldn’t contain. Launching at him, I shoved him. Grabbing my hands, he jerked me to him, turning until I was flat on his bed, him crouched over me. “There she is.” His lips stretched into a wolfish grin. “I don’t like you broken,” he whispered against my cheek. “I adore this side of you.”
His eyes were dancing with that dark delight that convinced me he was some weirdo masochist.
“I don’t have time for your brand of weirdness. We need to get you out of this mess.”
Pushing him away from me, I immediately missed the heat of his body over mine when he repositioned until we were face to face.
With warm lips pressed against my cheek, his tongue was a tantalizing lave over my skin, leaving trails of small heat along its path until he made his way to my neck. Everything felt too much and too little all at once. No one should command that type of emotion. He moved me onto my back and settled in behind me, his hand nestling just under my breast. Hyperaware that if he moved just an inch up, I could experience the intimate touch that I desperately wanted, I tried to turn to face him. But he kept me locked in position.
“Tell me what you know, Kara. And I’ll fill in the rest.” The level of confidence this deity had in the face of probable death was frustratingly annoying. I wanted to yell at him but couldn’t find the energy to do so.
“The only information they gave me was that you could be sentenced to death.”
He grunted. Without the benefit of seeing his expression, I had no idea what to take from the sound. It felt dismissive.
“What happens next?”
“There’s a hearing and I will state my case to the Bavelon,” he said. “Then they’ll render their judgment.”
“There has to be something I can say to help.” Again, I attempted to turn, but he kept me in place. “Do they hold the same gratitude for the lycans’ contribution to the war as you do?”
“Of course. The outcome could have been quite different.”
“Then they’ll understand why you killed Diehle and saved Amelia. In your favor, you retrieved the magic from Vina.”
“The magic is locked, not retrieved. She’d have to die for us to retrieve it.”
