Page 29 of Cruel Pawn (Cruel Duet #1)

Priya

“ T his doesn’t mean I like you,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest as Aegi noisily gobbled up the food I gave her—according to the very specific instructions Arden left. “We’re still not friends.”

The glare she shot me over her hand-painted food bowl assured me we were on the same page.

“This is just a simple appreciation of your biting and hissing skills,” I said, feeling like a moron for talking to a cat.

I stabbed my fork into the pasta I'd thrown together, not sure I’d be winning any culinary awards for the broccoli-pesto-ham situation in my bowl.

Maybe if I’d remembered to make a sauce, but I was starving, and I’d just killed a man. Carbs were my main priority.

Icarus was shoved into the furthest corner of the kitchen. It was that or the bathroom, and I didn’t fancy his empty eyes staring at me every time I peed.

Aegi earned herself a scowl from me by noisily licking her paw to clean her face.

“Is that necessary?”

Her baleful stare quite clearly replied it was.

She made matters worse by grinding her teeth into the fur between her paw pads, the noise horrific.

She was just trying to get a rise out of me now.

I ignored her, finishing my bowl of semi-bland pasta and definitely not thinking about the food Arden made last night.

Because of course he was good at that, too.

Aegi finished her audio torture routine and made my eyes bulge out of my skull by jumping onto the sofa beside me.

She didn’t glance at me, and I kept my face firmly forward, where the opening titles of The Fellowship of the Ring just finished, but we were acutely aware of each other.

She turned in a circle three times, then plopped onto the cushions with a deep sigh.

“Yeah,” I murmured. “Killing is exhausting.”

Fun, but exhausting.

A scuff of footsteps came from outside, and I sat bolt upright, clenching my fist around the fork.

I waited for Aegi to hiss, for her back to arch and that wailing war cry to leave her, but she just yawned and watched the door expectantly.

And to be fair, those footsteps continued up every step; whoever was out there made no attempt to conceal their presence.

I reached forward and grabbed the kitchen knife off the coffee table just in case, readying my body to leap up.

I half knew it would be Arden when the door swung open, but the sight of him still struck my chest like a physical blow.

Rage detonated, making my heart beat harder.

The bastard left me here for an entire fucking day, then just waltzed back in like it was nothing.

“Hi honey,” he called, propping himself against the doorframe, the black holdall in his hand, “I’m home.”

He could see my fury, could read it in my body language. I knew my eyes telegraphed my desire to see his face turn purple as I strangled him with my bare hands.

“Hi, baby,” I replied sweetly, batting my lashes at him.

“Be a doll and take out the trash for me. I’m all tied up.

” I rattled the infernal chains, letting the sweetness die on my face and my tongue.

“The body’s in the kitchen,” I said with a glare, crossing my arms over my chest and fixing my attention on the TV.

“What body?” Arden demanded, stalking across the room with all the grace and power of a panther. “If you’ve killed Aegi—oh,” he breathed, spotting her curled up like a prawn beside me. His voice dropped an octave and went from fiery to glacial. “Who?”

“Ever heard of a hitman called Icarus?” I sighed, throwing my fork into the bowl on the coffee table and pulling my feet onto the sofa, curling up against the arm.

Staying put. If he thought I would go running to him just because he’d been gone for hours—not the days he warned, I couldn’t help but notice and be thankful for—he was even more delusional than I thought.

“A hitman?” Arden demanded, his voice loud enough that Aegi jumped.

I gestured with my socked foot to the corpse, and Arden sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “So, the hit’s still live.”

“Actually, this one is new,” I replied, my words bitten off. “My last client isn’t happy with how Freddo’s murder was handled. Too messy,” I said with silken anger. “Now they want me dead. Thanks for that.”

Arden’s nostrils flared as he processed that. He dropped the bag at his feet and raked both hands through his black hair, a wealth of violence and fury in those dark eyes that made my stomach flip.

“I’ll fix it,” he promised me, which allowed butterflies to take advantage of my wobbly stomach. He sounded confident and firm, like there was no doubt he’d eliminate this threat to my life. And fuck, that was a heady feeling.

I heroically held onto my anger as he strode over the rug and hefted Icarus’s heavy body onto his shoulder, striding past me, but it was a close call. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” he promised, leaning over to skim the pad of his thumb over my jaw. “It won’t happen again, my opera.”

“It better not,” I muttered, but I was weakening, swooning, melting, as he strode out the door to dispose of a body for me.

It made me fucking giddy, and that was a problem.

Even in my wildest dreams, I’d never imagined someone covering up my crimes, but I was finding it difficult to contain a squeal.

“Tell me I’m crazy,” I said to Aegi. “I need a reality check.” She was fast asleep, and didn’t rouse even to glare at me. “Good talk, Aegi. Super helpful.”

I groaned, rubbing my face to stamp out the beginnings of a smile. “The bastard left me here alone at the mercy of contract killers! He stole me, locked me up, chained me. I am not going soft on him.”

But he’d picked up Icarus’s body without complaint and strode outside with a promise to fix the hit on me. And my heart fluttered. Dammit, it fluttered.

Arden returned, striding through the door like an avenging angel, his face all harsh angles and wrath.

He locked the door behind himself—the first time he’d done that, I noticed—and stalked to the sink to wash his hands.

“I’ve already made a call to increase the security around the cottage.

I was na?ve to think no one could reach us here since we’re so isolated, but I won’t make that mistake again. ”

That was my first hint that we were in the middle of nowhere, though I’d suspected it already. The only sounds outside the cottage were birdsong and the low whoosh of wind. If Arden had driven back, the road must end a distance away because I’d never heard a car once since I woke up here.

“I’m sorry, my opera,” he said sincerely, leaning on the sofa back to drop a kiss on the top of my head that did awful things to my chest.

I sighed. “Of all the things you’ve done that pissed me off, this is at the bottom of the list. It’s a side effect of killing for a living, and not the first time there’s been a number on my head. I’m kinda pissed Icarus figured out I was with you, though.”

“That is worrying,” Arden agreed, his arms draping around my shoulders. “I missed you.”

“I’m not saying it back.”

His laugh was little more than an exhale. His kiss stirred the hairs of my crown. “Do you want to see your gift?”

I played it cool, keeping my expression even. “I suppose.”

“I thought I’d be gone much longer, but it was unbearable being away from you. Plus, I got a little carried away. I had some anger to work out.”

Curiosity made me sit straighter as he headed across the room to where he’d dumped the black holdall. “So, you admit you were in a shit mood before you left.”

Arden sighed, his shoulders dropping as he glanced back at me. “Was I really awful?”

“You were a moody bitch, and it was… weird. But you weren’t really awful.” Why was I placating my kidnapper?

Because you like him, an annoying inner voice quipped. I ignored it, even if it was right.

“Weird,” he repeated, tilting his head to watch me.

“Because you’re normally more…” I waved my hands. “Irritating. Then suddenly all your loudness and excitement were gone and—”

“Oh, Priya,” he sighed, his eyes big and glittery. “You missed me before I even left the cottage.”

“I did not,” I snarled, getting to my feet, my arms crossed over my chest. I didn’t miss him.

I liked some parts of Arden, like him disposing of a body for me and not blinking at my violent tendencies, but it’s not as if I liked the OTT, irritating golden retriever.

If anything, the cold, unfeeling man was better suited to me. “It was an improvement.”

Arden just smirked, like he didn’t believe me, and unzipped the bag. Reaching inside, he—pulled out a severed head.

I jerked forward in shock, though I really ought to be running the other way. “Arden, what the fuck?”

He wiggled the head at me, and thankfully it didn’t leak blood all over the floor. But it was a very dead grey colour, with dull brown hair and a slack, rictus scream. “Look familiar?”

“No,” I laughed in disbelief, but then frowned. Why would he ask that? I came closer as he held the head up for my perusal, and the second the features connected in my mind, my stomach revolted. “Is that…”

“Oliver Dobrow. He suffered, my opera, I promise you that. I wanted to make his torment last for days, but I can be satisfied that he was in excruciating pain the entire time. You should see what I did to the rest of him.”

“Yes,” I blurted, my breathing starting to race, a shuddery feeling crawling across my shoulder blades and down my arms. I shivered hard, staring at the head of the bastard who would have raped me.

Grandfather would have let it happen, didn’t particularly care about my trauma and how it affected me for months, but a single nightmare and Arden had done this.