Page 7 of Shai

Reaching across, I grabbed hold of the old woman’s shoulder, her bones brittle beneath my fingertips. “I need to get out of here. Can you help me? I need clothes, I need…”

She threw her head back and laughed, the sound sending a chill down my spine. “Oh no, you’re not leaving. Not now. Not ever. If Shai doesn’t kill you, then it means he’s chosen you. Those who are chosen never leave, not unless he allows it. Her brow scrunched up as if she was thinking hard. “Which he never does.” She reached across and patted my hand in a strange motherly gesture.

Maybe I could get her on my side. She was his mother. If anyone could

influence him, it was likely to be her. I just needed to press the right buttons, the ones that would get her to feel sorry for me.

“You were a very good fuck.”

I stared at her, convinced I must have heard wrong. “What?” Her fingers, which had been resting on my arm, moved across, inching

slowly down until they reached the point where the sheet was pooled around my waist. “You fucked my pussy good and hard while you were unconscious. Once I got that poor little drowned cock of yours to a decent size, you filled my pussy just right.”

When her fingers threatened to dip below the blanket to where I was

naked, I batted her hand away, nausea rushing through me. She couldn’t be serious. What kind of sociopath—or should it be psychopath—fucked an unconscious man? The kind who thinks their son is an Egyptian God, and who gave birth to someone able to steal half a city from McIntyre.

She returned to her knitting with little concern for my rejection, her tone

bright and breezy. “Don’t worry, I can’t get pregnant.”

The wave of nausea became more intense, forcing me to breathe deeply.

I wasn’t sure whether it was a physical reaction to everything my body had been through recently, including the near-drowning, the thought of this crazed old woman using me like a whore, or the reality of the situation I’d gotten myself into finally sinking in. Chances were that it was a combination of all three. I’d gone straight from the frying pan and into the fire.

My fingers curled around the silk sheet as I tried to think. How long had

I been here? I dropped my gaze to my chest, the bruises from the last beating fainter, but still visible. A week, maybe? It couldn’t have been much longer than that.

The door opened and a man stepped inside. I didn’t need anyone to tell

me that this was Shai. Despite the fact that he wore nothing more than a pair of jeans, with his chest and feet bare, he had an aura of power which couldn’t be faked. It was in the way he carried himself.

This was a man who didn’t need a smart suit to project an image. It

might have had something to do with his powerful physique, the hard muscles of his chest adorned by the fierce black lines of a snarling cobra. It wasn’t that snake that snagged my attention, though, it was the cobra casually draped around his neck. Its body was wrapped around his arm, the head near his wrist, while its tail was wrapped around his waist, as if it was some strange sort of decoration designed to bring attention to the man’s clearly defined abdominal muscles. I couldn’t take my eyes off it—off him. It hugged itself to him as if they were part and parcel of the same thing, a half-human, half-snake type beast in perfect synergy.

His gaze bypassed me to go straight to his mother. “You’re not meant to be in here.” His voice was deep and melodic, with just a hint of sharpness mixed in.

She lifted her bony shoulders in a shrug, seeming wholly unconcerned by his censure. “Someone had to look after the poor boy.”

I’d already heard what her version of looking after me was. If there was any truth to her words at all, it wasn’t the sort of looking after I needed.

Shai inclined his head toward the door in a clear instruction. “Go.”

She took her time in clambering to her feet, and despite what she’d claimed she’d done I found myself wanting her to stay. Anything but be left alone with this man. I tried to tell myself it was the snake, but in truth, it was both. McIntyre’s strength had come from his men, from his ability to throw out orders. But even at first glance, I could tell that Shai was different.

The old woman shuffled from the room, Shai closing the door in her wake. There was a long pause before he turned his head in my direction, his movements smooth and sinuous as he approached the bed. There was nothing to be read from his expression, nothing helpful anyway. He lifted a hand to reveal a bottle of water. “I bet you’d like some of this?”

I nodded eagerly, extending my hand to take it from him.

The hand was withdrawn, the bottle moved out of reach. It was tempting to make a lunge for it, but I already knew he would be quicker.

“Questions first. Water later. Rewards need to be earned.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t like there was anything else I could say. I’d answer his fucking questions. I’d jump through his hoops. Anything to finally get that drink I needed so badly.

Shai’s eyes were dark enough to appear almost black as they fastened on me. “Name?”