What Zayne said while she recovered from thermal shock kept her from losing herself to that despair, though. Bitter anger heated the chill of his words and the night. Everything he said carried an implicit threat, all reinforced by his messageto her while she lay shivering and half-conscious beneath the blankets three days ago.
Dr. Cooper created that awful tank and subjected Zayne to it a decade ago. Now Zayne wanted her to believe that he ordered the doctor to lock her within that icy water.
Why? Why lie to her?
Then again, why didn't she believe him? Being hurt never stopped a person from hurting someone else. The good in another didn't erase their bad. Seeing Zayne's wounds and sorrows told her nothing about his intentions with her. So, did she believe Dr. Cooper tortured her without Zayne's knowledge because that story fit all the clues? Or was it because Kira already sipped his poison?
Dr. Cooper wanted her to find Zayne drugged and weakened, to see his scars, so empathy might soften her to him. Then he flippantly revealed his schemes to make it all feel inevitable. Hopelessness was the empire's greatest and cheapest weapon. The Phaedra convinced the people to surrender before the fight even began.
Well, Kira wanted it to cost them to kill her. She refused to listen to anything that stole her sense of power.
None of this helped her decide whether to trust her instincts about Zayne lying to her, though. Her survival depended on her figuring him out, as well as protecting herself from these assaults on her heart and mind.
So, did Kira trust Zayne?
No. He hurt her.
Did she believe Zayne wanted to hurt her?
Not really.
Where did that leave her?
Zayne checked his watch. “The estate's secure now. It's time.”
Home sweet home. He sounded as if this was a military base and not the house where he grew up.
Knots twisted her stomach as she walked quickly to match Zayne's stride and followed after him through the oversized front doors.
The smell of bread and burning candles wafted over her. The smell of home.
Soft lighting cast its glow on the dimly lit walkway, a gentle transition from the darkness outside. Each piece of the house looked so ornate and detailed. The polished shelf on the wall beside her boasted glossy, midnight blue pottery with black succulents.
Mrs. Riven stood at the base of the spiral stairs with a crystal chandelier hanging above her. What an elegant picture she made, her hands clasped in front of her, and her long auburn hair curling over her shoulder. A sweet smile lifted her full lips, and the flowing hem of her lavender skirt swayed when she stepped forward. “Welcome,” she said in a lilting voice. “I promise you're safe here.”
While the resemblance between Zayne and his dad was immediately apparent in their light hair and gray eyes, in the way they carried themselves, Kira saw so much of him in his mother. Their faces looked alike, pretty and shapely, with the same high cheek bones. If Zayne ever smiled, she figured it would look so much like the one lighting Adelle's eyes.
Despite the similarities in their looks, Zayne's mother exuded the exact opposite of everything he did with her inviting voice and expression.
It only left Kira leery of whatever danger she posed. “Thank you, Mrs. Riven.”
What did Kira say next? Apologize for invading her house? This woman imprisoned her just as much as the Phaedra and Zayne, didn't she?
But she looked so kind. So authentic. So motherly.
Mrs. Riven's eyes shifted to Zayne. “I made dinner.”
He looked like another fixture in the house, still as a statue. “I'm leaving after I orient the prisoner.”
“You're staying.” The sweet voice carried a quiet warning.
Kira struggled not to smile. The irritation emanated from Zayne even if he didn't show it.
“In fact,” Mrs. Riven walked closer to her, though she eyed her son. “You're on injured reserve. Rest and I'll show Kira around.”
“No.”
No further explanation. No argument or apology. He simply met his mother's eyes and uttered that one word.
