Page 56

“I have another trigger planned for her tomorrow.”

“It’s fine. It won’t kill her. We all know you want to keep her. It’ll only enhance anything good that’s already there, and things might go better tomorrow.” She hands her drink to Coen, a smile tearing across her angled face. “This is the strongest batch yet. It wakes me up in all sorts of ways, including my gift.”

“No need.” Eli sends more red liquid down his throat. Sola stands over him with her hand out, waiting. His head slides along the bars as he looks up at her. “She’s staying in there.”

“Let me have some fun with her. When will we have another Hollow to play with?” she says, the smirk on her lips capturing every bad intention.

I pull the blanket tighter, enveloping myself in his unbearable scent. If I could only disappear…

“She’s not for playing with.”

“Maybe not with you. You’re no fun.” She leans down and tousles his black curls. “What’s the point of keeping your secret if you won’t share?”

He looks my way again, and in response to her not-so-subtle threat, he parts his lips as though he’s about to return one, then slaps a stone into her hand. He and Sypher move out of the path of the cell door, allowing her to open it.

“Don’t take your eyes off her.” Eli turns once more and snatches my gaze with such intensity that I pull the blanket up to my nose. He holds it through another sip. “She misbehaves.”

“So do I, Eli.” Sola steps inside the cell and reaches a hand down to me. “Come, Hollow. You’ll like it.”

All four sets of eyes are on me as I emerge from the safety of the blanket and step out of the cell. Sola places me between herand Coen on the couch, so much taller than me that I feel like a child. Eli’s on the stone floor a few feet in front of me, Sypher at his side. It only crosses my mind for a second—the irony of my guard on the floor and me, his prisoner, on the couch, as shabby as it is. He looks livid, with a death grip on his bottle, and I can’t tell if it’s directed at Sola or me.

Sola throws her arm around my shoulders and yanks me backward into her lap, nestling me closer until she can reach around and hold my jaw despite my struggle. “Grab her arms,” she says to Coen.

I go rigid. “No, no, I—”

Coen pins my hands in my lap, and Sola shoves the glass bottle into my mouth. “Drink, little Hollow.”

The cold liquid glugs out, filling my mouth and forcing me to swallow. It burns all the way down. I thrash in her lap, and she squeezes me tighter, my jaw locked in her grasp. Coen puts his weight on my lower half, keeping me from kicking him and rolling away.

Bubbles swim the length of the bottle, frantic spheres trapped and searching for a way out of the red liquid, only finding my mouth as an escape. Sola pours and pours, and I swallow and swallow. The bubbles fill my shrunken stomach, but the liquid keeps coming, trekking down my throat uninvited. She tips the bottle back until every last drop is inside me. I ache with fullness, and tears run down my face into my ears.

“That’s right.” Sola removes the bottle and puts her face an inch from mine. “You’re going to give Eli what he wants.” She runs her finger down my cheek.

But Eli is far from pleased, jaw clenched so tight he trembles.

Sola holds me close until my body slackens in her embrace, my insides unknotting and setting me at ease. I turn my head, defeated and compliant, and rest my cheek against her arm. Coen releases my hands. I’m warm, tingling head to toe.

“I told you you’d like it, Hollow. Now tell me, what do you think of your guard?” Sola’s motherly voice falls gently on my ears, disjointed with her suggestive grin and scheming eyes.

I roll my head back toward the cell, looking Eli over. He sits with his elbows resting on his spread knees, hands locked around the bottle, swirling it into a whirlpool. His fierce glare is still set on Sola. My eyes follow the swirls. They pull me in—like him. Sola pokes my cheek, bringing me back and pushing the words from my mouth. “He’s a bloodthirsty grump.”

Sola howls with laughter. “I like her, Eli. Bloodthirsty? What have you been doing with her?”

Eli downs the last of his bottle and uncorks another with his teeth, clearly pissed, but I don’t think it has anything to do with what I said.

Sola fusses with my matted hair. “And what do you think of Sonnet?”

“I want to get my friend and go home.” I say it, but the pain I expect isn’t there, the ache and the longing. I’m numb, on the verge of escape.

“Friend…doesn’t she know?” Sola says to Eli.

He tosses her a pointed look mid-sip.

“Know what?” I ask.

“Shush.” She presses another bottle to my lips.

“Stop,” I beg, but before the liquid comes rushing, Eli is standing over us with hardened fists.