Page 26

Mm-hmm?

What if…what if I can’t stop it?I whispered.

There ain’t no “if” hun. You stop it, and that’s that.She wiped my tears just before I was pulled away.

When will I see you again?I asked, craning my neck to keep her in sight, though I knew it wouldn’t be long until I was sent away again.

You know I’m always here.

Then I was shoved through the frame of the yellow door, and I tried so hard to stop the violence and death that came for me so many times a day. I tried.

And I failed.

I lie on the obsidian floor in the dark of night, still wearing the damn red dress, now looking more black than anything. I only have my mind and the steady splatter of rain to keep me company during the day. Eli wakes me up each morning before he leaves, often a grumpy grunt of hot breath in my ear, and shows up in the evening, all broody as he tosses me a crumbly bar and a canteen of water, my one meal each day.

Once again, Eli is slumped against the stone door, staring. I didn’t ask about the little girl or the grief on his face, and he didn’t ask about the bruise. He glanced at the purple welt taking over my thigh when we got back that day. It peeked through the tear in the skirt of my dress as he knelt before me, removing the cuffs from my ankles, cold fingers brushing against my shin. His breath caught, and he dropped the stone for the cuffs and cursed.Fuckers. My mouth filled with the taste of blood, and his scent slammed into me, musky and earthy, as though I were buried underground—and losing my mind.

Despite the tattered dress and boots, I curl into myself, missing Kelt’s warmth and seeking comfort in my own arms. My body shivers. My mind runs. I fight off flashes of death, tossing and turning until cold delirium reaches my bones, and sleep takes me.

It’s not until morning that I have to work to suppress the nightmare—Kelter, shoulders back, his hands at ease in the pockets of a crisp jumpsuit. Like one ofthem.

Lying on my stomach in the last of the early morning moonlight, I press my cheek into the raw stone floor. Eli is still in front of the door, but a nervous energy has him wringing his hands and tapping his toes.

“Why do you do it?” I ask. A gentle breeze rolls off him and caresses me, eroding my defenses against him. “Why choose to be a guard and sleep on the floor? Aren’t there better jobs?”

“It’s a good thing your little face is so damn pretty because you never shut that mouth.”

I was right that it was only an act when I saw him holding that girl, for whatever reason. But I’m pulled in anyway, unbothered, needing to know more. “Don’t you get tired of being a jerk?”

“No, and I didn’t choose this.”

I lift my head off the floor. “I’m that miserable to be with?”

One eyebrow arches, his lips awry. “Yes. Are we done talking?” His tall figure rises. “Get up. I have to take you to the temporary school. The equipment is set up now.”

Equipment?

I sit up and plow my knees into my chest, panic streaking through my veins. “What happens if you don’t do what the Centress wants?”

“The punishment is worse than guarding you.” The contents of his pockets jangle as he nears me. “And she enjoys it. Move.”

I sit up and fiddle with the laces in my boots, stalling. The last thing I want is to be handed off to the Centress.

He stands over me, a wall of cobalt blue. “How come you don’t listen?”

“How come you keep telling me what to do?”

His towering figure drops before me, knees on either side of my feet. His eyes shift to the bruise on my thigh. Lightness blinks to darkness, and just as fast he grabs my upper arms and pushes me flush against the wall, his palms kneading my muscles. “Because…” He lowers his head, putting us face to face, curls falling, eyes glinting. “You’re my prisoner.”

I have the urge to run, but I lift my chin and ignore his aroma barging into me, musky and ancient in the best and most irritating way.

“And you’reherprisoner.” I saw the way the Centress treated him, how he goes from one shift to another, living under her threats.

As the skin on my neck crawls, I see him chewing on my words, his angled jaw jutting to the side. I hit a nerve.

“Let’s go,” he says, but doesn’t release me.

“In this?” I gesture toward my dress, now more rag than clothes and coated with dirt and grime. It reeks of a week’s worth of cold sweat from every nightmare that had me gasping for life, only to wake up and find myself sucking in the dark, timeless air surrounding this man.