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“Answer me,” Zaroc said and Donja heard Garret chuckle.
She raised her head. “Yes,” she whispered, “no food or water and…abused.”
Garret leaned onto the table. “Poor little kitten,” he chuckled.
“Abuse of what kind?” Zaroc asked.
“It’s okay,” Donja whispered, eyes back to her plate, aware that Garret was watching her. “Forget It.”
“I asked you a question,” Zaroc said.
“That’s good, son, make her purr,” Garret chuckled.
“I was duct taped, slapped and…touched,” Donja whispered.
“Are you insinuating that Jonas groped you?” Zaroc asked with an anxious tone.
“Well he’s,” she paused, “pretty familiar with my body, if that’s what you mean.”
“Father, she was supposed to be mine,” Zaroc protested.
“Well lad, shall we have him killed?” Garret said as he waved his fork toward the guards. “Give them the order if you wish. Show the little lady what she means to you,” he said matter-of-factly as he returned to his meal.
Zaroc just sat there, his jaw twitching and as Donja watched, he cut his eyes to Garret who was enjoying his meal. Without a word, Zaroc picked up his fork and returned to his meal.
They ate, cloaked in silence, but Donja didn’t fail to notice Zaroc watching her every move. She finished up her meal, wiped her lips and tossed the napkin on the table.
“Done?” Zaroc asked.
“Yes.”
Zaroc got up, circled the table and pulled her chair out. “Come, I have something to show you.”
Towering over her, Zaroc escorted her with his hand in the small of her back. Inside the great room, he ushered her to a hallway concealed by the staircase. They marched in silence, his scent as well as his firm hand unsettling. Nearing the end of the hallway, he opened a door, their destination a vast library where the smell of books and parchment filled the air. Across the expanse of the room with towering shelves housing books by the thousands, Donja saw a woman in a beige dress with ebony locks and eyes to match. She raised her head from an open book.
“Mother,” Zaroc said with measurable warmth flowing from his eyes, “I thought you had taken your leave for Vancouver.”
“No, I leave tomorrow,” she replied softly.
Donja studied her face. She was an ineffable beauty, no more than twenty, too young to be his mother.
Maybe she’s one of them, though I’ve never heard mention of a female Iridescent.
The woman snapped the book she was reading tight, a fringed book marker hanging midway through the pages. “You must be Donja,” she said and Donja realized she was sizing her up. She rose to her feet, dainty with a figure most girls would die for and padded the plush carpet toward them. She removed her glasses and planted a quick kiss on Zaroc’s cheek, who bent his towering frame to accommodate her lips. A great silence fell upon them until finally the woman said, “Donja, I do hope you will find it in your heart to save my son.”
“Pardon?”
“Save my son’s life.”
“By marrying him and giving him a baby?”
“The baby is the least of my worries, it is his life that concerns me.”
“Mother, please,” Zaroc whispered.
She met his gaze with a questioning flare of her arched brows. “You haven’t told her, have you?”
“Mother, would you just let me handle this my way?”
