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His features paled and he swallowed audibly before turning a pale green and looking as if he might cast up his accounts.
“Fuck me sideways, you’re an honest-to-God Graykey.” His breathing began to come in shallow rasps. Gabbing his hair, he pulled on it until it stuck out from his head in dark, wild spikes. “A Graykey. Why did I not see that one coming? I mean, with the luck I have, it was pretty much inevitable. But seriously?” He looked up further, at the sky this time, as if blaming the clouds for his misfortune. “What the fuck?”
Ending his rant on a dramatic flair, he fell backward in the dirt until he was lying supine on the ground and laughing bitterly until he ended the maniacal so
und with a low, pained groan and ground the heels of his bound hands into his eye sockets. “Jesus, what am I going to do?”
I blinked at him lying there on the ground, sulking. A second later, I sighed, growing impatient—because deep down in a place that would never see the light of day, his reaction stung—and I demanded, “Are you done freaking out yet?”
“Nope.” He held up his pointer finger, which forced his other hand to lift as well since they were shackled together. “I’m gonna need a couple more seconds to come to terms with this one.”
Then, once again sitting up abruptly, he lifted his hands to shake the chains in my direction. “And what is this about anyway? Am I supposed to be your prisoner now, or do you just have some kinky fetish about keeping your men bound? Because I’m sure you can convince me to be down for that, but I’d like to know upfront, if it’s all the same to you.”
I narrowed my eyes, but all he did was raise his eyebrows expectantly, awaiting some kind of answer.
I glanced toward Melaina. “As I said, I’m not dealing with him. He’s all yours.”
With that, I put my back to the prisoner and started to pack our camp.
“Looks like you belong to me, then, precious.” Slapping her hands together with mischievous delight, my aunt sent the High Clifter a saucy smile full of so much evil relish that it would put no one at ease. “Whatever should I do with you first, hmm?”
“Wait. Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
Melaina gave a despondent sigh. “It’s just sad how no one knows who I am, anymore. You know, in my day, everyone knew my name. But, alas, that was apparently another lifetime ago before the damn Graykeys got a hold of me. You may call me Melaina, darling. Or cry it out hoarsely while you’re coming from the orgasms I plan to give you. Either way.”
As she chuckled at her own joke, I couldn’t resist peeking at the High Clifter to gauge his reaction.
Instead of appearing intrigued by her blatant invitation, however, he lifted appalled eyebrows and slowly said, “Right... So that’s never going to happen.” Then he glanced my way and motioned toward her. “Is the crazy redhead the person I have to thank for the sore skull I got in Pinsky?” He lifted his hand—er, both hands—to the back of his head and winced when he found the place where Melaina had bashed him a week ago.
Melaina trilled out an amused laugh and waved a dismissive hand. “That’s all water under the bridge now, way back when I thought you were trying to kill my sweet niece here.”
He zapped a horrified glance her way. “Niece! You mean, you’re—”
“But now that we know you’re just her one true love, it’s all good, and we can be friends. Very, very close friends, if you like.”
I went back to packing everything away as the man suddenly fumbled for words.
“She—you—wait. Did you just say true love?”
“Ah, yes.” Melaina hummed deep in her throat. “I guess I should’ve mentioned the cat was out of the bag. We played with your little tattoo there while you were sleeping and discovered the truth of who you are to your new mate here.”
I could tell the exact moment he looked my way; the back of my neck heated unbearably hot.
“So she knows,” he murmured softly, and something in his voice made my insides shift with a strange surge of awareness.
“She knows,” Melaina confirmed, sounding oddly sage.
“Which means...” The High Clifter trailed off a minute before he seemed to realize, “She had to touch me. You touched me?”
I knew that last question was directed at me, but I studiously ignored it.
“She did indeed,” Melaina seemed all too pleased to report. “Five tiny taps right to your temple, in fact. She untied the laces to your trousers too.”
Crying out my dismay over that lie, I whirled around, crying, “The fuck if I did.”
While Melaina laughed over my reaction, the man looked down to find that the laces were indeed untied. His eyebrows lifted as he pulled them back together. “Damn,” he murmured, sounding disappointed. “I’m sorry I missed that one.”
Say what? My gaze lifted to his face in confusion, because one second he was moaning and complaining about being strapped to a Graykey for all eternity, and now he was upset about not being awake when I’d touched his stupid tattoo and supposedly opened his pants like it was an intimacy he wished he’d been present for. That made no sense at all.
