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“Good. I’ve been unable to reconnect with Gaius since he left Cloven. There are several possibilities of where you could be, but those kinds of tunnels are far into the wilderness. I’ll be searching with the Morgon Guard constantly. When Gaius gets you out of there, tell him to take you to Safehouse X.”
“Where’s that?”
“He’ll know.”
I clung to his shirt, wanting to burrow right inside of him, tears streaming down my face. His hand stroked down my back. His powerful frame held me tight, his lips brushed my temple.
“Don’t be afraid, Moira. Be strong. You’ll be out soon, and I’ll find you.”
I shook my head, choking on a sob. “Kol. There’s a monster here. That’s who rules them.”
His face darkened. “A monster?”
“He’s Morgon, but he’s not. He’s hideous, with claws, fangs, and he’s massive. He must be eight feet tall. And he wants?—”
No. I wouldn’t tell Kol what he planned to do to me. I wouldn’t burden him with that fear.
Kol’s entire being became rigid and cold. “What does he want, Moira?”
I shook my head and kissed him hard. Though he moved not a muscle, his arms squeezed around me. I poured my heart into that one, lingering kiss.
“Tell me,” he growled, dream-eyes shining bright.
I broke free, running for the sunlight. Before I crossed over, I glanced over my shoulder. “Find me, Kol.”
He reached for me.“Moira!”
“Find me.”
I leaped out of the shadows.
My eyes shot open. My body trembled with violent shaking. Instinctually, my fingers searched my throat for my comfort, my medal.
Gone.
Bolting upright, I saw it…dangling in the clawed hand of the king of this underworld.
Chapter Twenty-One
Iinched back against the headboard, my hands braced on the pillow, knowing what lay beneath. He continued to gaze at the medal, eyes observing every detail. When he spoke, the deep, broken tenor struck me again as unnatural.
“You humans still honor your saints and your God.”
Still? How did he not know this? Our religious practices weren’t a state secret.
“Speak,” he commanded, shifting his gaze to me. “I know you want to.”
Willing myself to breathe evenly, I tilted my chin up, holding my head high. “We honor what is good. Not what is evil.”
He smiled. If you could call it that. Sharp teeth, two canines longer than the rest, jutted out. My heart tripped faster.
“There is no good or evil. There is only power, and who has the most.”
I begged to differ. Evil incarnate stood not two feet from me at the edge of the bed. He rubbed a clawed thumb over the face of the medal, finally dangling it from the uppermost tier of the candelabra on the nightstand. Ropes of muscle rippled and bunched with every movement he made.
“So you honor your saint. I assume she has her own order.”
Many of our saints did. Portia certainly did. The Sisters of Light were a peaceful order who lived reclusive lives southwest of Primus. They devoted their lives to helping the poor and less fortunate, especially orphans. But I sure as hell wasn’t telling him.
