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No the best thing I can do is get back to the Zmaj. Report to Rosalind and have her pull us out. This is so much worse than we were prepared for. The Maulavi suspect us of being spies and it is clearly only a matter of time before they do something about it. Most likely used as sacrifices to their bloody god the Paluga.
I try to consider every possible path forward. Staying though seems untenable no matter how I look at it. This mission is a failure. Though I’ve learned a lot which is why I was sent here. The other option, leaving, scares me too.
I’ve played the route over enough times that I’m almost completely certain I can retrace it back to the Zmaj, but first I have to get out of the Urr’ki village. We’re probably half a kilometer from the cave opening we entered. That’s a long way for something to go wrong.
The little time I’ve been out and about I’ve seen a lot of the Urr’ki wearing cloaks that they kept pulled tight. I can do that with this threadbare blanket. Hopefully, that will be enough to let me pass for a small Urr’ki, or a child.
But if I’m passing for a child, why would I be outside in the middle of the night? No, I’ll have to stick to the shadows. No alleys, though. That was a terrible idea the last time and I’m not going to repeat that mistake.
Am I doing this?
I’m so nervous that it feels like I’m vibrating. Stay or go it’s not going to be safe either way. Here I’m a prisoner waiting for the Maulavi to come and kill me. Or I can take control of my destiny and get back to the Zmaj.
I push myself up to a sitting position. My heart speeds up as anxiety floods my brain with chemicals. I pull my knees up to my chest and hug myself until the anxiousness eases. I can do this. Greta would. She’d never sit around waiting for life to happen to her, she’d be in there pitching. Making things go her way no matter what it took.
The anxiety eases and I let go of my legs. Moving slowly to avoid making any more noise than I absolutely must I gently put my feet on the floor. I grab my shoes and slip them on then rise. Picking up the blanket I wrap it around my shoulders.
This is it.
I take the first step towards the stairs and the floor creaks. It sounds so loud in my head that there can be no doubt it woke up Bhoja. I freeze, listening for any hint that he’s awake. Nothing. I count to twenty. Nothing.
Okay. I move to the stairs and the floor does not betray me again. I hug the wall along the stairs figuring this part of them will be the least likely to creak or make any noise. As I come down I see Bhoja’s hulking form lying on the couch thing.
He doesn’t seem to be awake. I pause watching the rise and fall of his chest. He’s softly snoring. Okay, good. I make my way the rest of the way down the stairs. He stirs and I freeze in place. He turns over muttering and coughing then settles in.
My heart is hammering in my throat and for a moment I’m sure I’m going to be sick. All of that eases as he settles back into sleep. Every inhale I make sounds too loud. I’m sure I’m going to wake him up and then what?
Gritting my teeth I hold my breath and make my way across the room to the door. Slow. One step, put the foot down, commit my weight slowly. I am almost there. The floor on this floor is stone so there is no squeaking and I know this, but I still move slowly and carefully. There is only a dim glow of light coming from the kitchen. Every shadowy shape looms with imminent threat keeping me on edge.
As I reach the door the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Any second Bhoja is going to clamp his big hand onto my shoulder and spin me around. The iron knob of the door is cold in my hand. I dare a breath before I try turning it and still no hand grabs me.
I turn the handle. Slow. Slow. Click. The latch is free. I pull the door?—
“What are you doing?” Bhoja asks.
I freeze.
14
BHOJA
She stands at the door stiff and frozen. I cannot help but admire everything about her. Even little more than a shadow her form is beautiful but as much as I admire her body it’s her strength of spirit that holds me enraptured. Despite everything that has happened she is choosing freedom. Once I also believed in freedom above all. What happened to that? When did I lose that burning need to be free? To be in control of my life?
I don’t know and now is not the time for such introspection. Niyah slowly turns to face me. The firelight from the kitchen casts her gorgeous face in conflicting shades of orange and dark shadow. My cock stirs unwittingly, knowing only desire, having no cares for the complications of my situation with her.
“I assume you’re going to stop me?” she asks.
I frown, not wanting to say the obvious, no matter that it's true. Her eyes narrow and her mouth tightens as she clenches her jaw. Then her hands close into tight fists and she steps forward. She is challenging me and though she cannot see or know because the back of the recliner hides my lower half, my cock is rock hard and throbbing. I swallow, trying to find words that will be less hurtful but there are none.
“My duty,” I say, trying to couch the truth but she doesn’t let me continue.
She raises one hand, her finger pointing at the ceiling and then she waves it back and forth between us.
“Your duty,” she says, all but snarling, “be honest. I am your prisoner. What next? You want to finish what those ruffians started in the alley? Or do you want to make good on the threats Riak made?”
“No, I would never,” I say, head spinning.
My dick goes limp faster than I can speak. The very idea is abhorrent. How could she accuse me of such?
