T he staircase spirals down into a sea of shadows, the flickering sconces barely illuminating the black stone walls. Each step is a gamble, the non-existent railing a death trap as I carefully take each step one at a time. The shackles on my wrists weigh me down. One wrong move and I could fall to my death.
Nieve follows silently behind me. I’m grateful for the flowing dress that magically appeared on my bed after my bath. The fabric is light—too light—clinging to my curves in ways reserved for a man to peel off, not to meet a dangerous prince. The deep neckline almost plunges to my navel, the two slits on either side of my thighs offering more than a glimpse with every movement.
I’m bare beneath it.
When I finally reach the last step, two small figures emerge from the dimly lit hallway.
Dwarves.
Their silver-sheened skin grows faintly, green veins swirling beneath like living vines. Thick beards contrast with the jagged scars crisscrossing their faces.
The one closest to the stairs speaks first, “The prince is waiting.” His voice is gravel, his gaze impassive. A long scar runs over his missing ear.
I want to tell him Icouldn’td care less if the prince is waiting, but I bite my tongue. They turn sharply and start down the corridor, leading me toward a set of massive black doors carved with a dragon emblem, its eyes burning like embers. Two hooded guards stand on either side, their black masks concealing their faces.
As I step forward, the doors groan open, but as I cross the threshold, strong hands shove Nieve back.
She yelps.
“Your services are no longer needed,” one of the guards tells her flatly.
“What are you doing?” But my protest is swallowed by the thundering crash of the doors slamming shut. I whirl around, but she’s gone.
“Have a seat.” Kainen's voice slices through the heavy silence.
I turn around. He stands at the head of a long, obsidian table, its surface reflecting the golden glow of a dragon-shaped candelabra. Black candles flicker, casting shadows over his hard expression. His gaze drags over me like a slow-moving blade: the red dress, the slits, the lack of underwear. I hate how his eyes burn into me, how they linger—deliberate and possessive—before curling into something disgusted.
Relief and disappointment war inside
me.I force my legs forward, ignoring the way the fabric teases my skin and the way the room feels colder under his scrutiny. He has a way of making me feel intimidated in my own skin, questioning my subconscious.
I slide into the only empty seat at the table, taking in the rest of the room, which reminds me of a hotel ballroom with a red oversized rug; like the rest of the castle, the walls are black.
His eyes glint. “Good.”
I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but I’m in no position to disobey. As much as I hate him, I’m at his mercy. The red medallion in the shape of a dragon, with eyes the color of fire at the center of his armor, does nothing to hide the magnetism of his power.
Tugging the sheer fabric around my thighs, I shift in my seat the best I can, hoping he doesn’t get a glimpse and rests the shackles in my lap.
When his gaze lands back on my face, the look of disgust is unmistakable. “Take them off,” he demands.
My glasses?
Before I can respond, a shadow detaches from the wall: his beastly guard.
He lumbers forward, his hooves thudding on the floor. His scent hits me like a sledgehammer—sweat and something rancid, with a skeleton key dangling between thick, black fingers. He shoves the key in the lock like a brute.
I snatch my hands away from the immediate sting,red welts marking my skin. “Ow.”
He grunts. “Hold still.”
“Stop being a brute,” I snap.
His eyes darken, his grip tightening around the key.
Kainen chuckles darkly. “Relax, Ormand. We both know she prefers Spellbinders.”
A sharp, visceral anger rips through me. I slap my hands down on the table, ignoring the pain. “And how the fuck would you know what I prefer?”
The corner of his mouth lifts, his expression shifting from annoyance to amusement. “When I found you, it certainly looked like that to me.” His eyes drop to my breasts. “His hands were everywhere.”
“I was drugged,” I snap. “If you saw differently, then you’re blind.”
Kainen leans back, a smirk curling his lips. “Then why did I kill him?”
How easy it is for him to say it hits me like ice water.
His smirk doesn’t waver. “Did you expect me to let him live?”
A part of me wants to be grateful, but a larger part of me wants to hate him even more. Because it wasn’t about saving me; it was about control—a way to make his point when he captured me.
“Looked like you stayed long enough to enjoy the show.”
Kainen’s smirk vanishes. “Trust me, you’d know if I did.”
Bastard.
A dwarf appears with a glass of red wine. Another comes with black plates, placing them in front of me and Kainen. “I’m sure you’re hungry,” Kainen says, placing a dinner napkin near his plate.
I tear my gaze from the little people walking around the room with trays of food fit for ten when there are just two of us.
In seconds, the table suddenly transforms into a feast fit for a holiday. Steam rises in the air from each serving tray, casting the space with the smell of fresh hot food. Trays of assorted fruits, meats, and chicken legs are within reach at the center of the table. Breads of all kinds are placed within reach. My stomach growls in agreement that it smells delicious.
“Go on,” he urges with amusement in his voice as he plucks a chicken leg from a tray and a piece of meat from another. “Don’t be shy. You must be hungry.”
I’m about to reach for a piece of bread but frown as my insecurities bubble to the surface. “Are you making fun of me?”
“I don’t joke about food,” he replies earnestly between bites.
“Then why did you say it like that?” I ask, not hiding the accusation in my voice.
He licks his lips and grins. “Like what?”
“Like you’re pointing out that I’m fat and the reason I’m hungry.”
His gaze bounces from my face to my chest. He can probably see my nipples through the sheer fabric barely covering the exposed sides of my breasts. “Is that what you think?”
“I don’t think you care what I think,” I point out. “You should save on food and kill me like you planned. I also suggest you give me a black hooded robe like the ones your guards wear. It would keep the mess to a minimum.”
The color in his eyes shifts after a few seconds. I’m not sure it’s a trick of the light from the fire in the hearth creating the effect, but his eyes shift from light to a dark gray, like storm clouds turning black right before lightning strikes.
“I’ve changed my mind about killing you,” he says between bites. “Right now, anyway.” He takes another bite like he’s discussing what will be had for dessert.
I curl my hands into fists underneath the table at how he can discuss my life like it doesn’t mean anything.
“I have found that I have no use for you if you’re dead.”
Dread causes my stomach to churn. My hunger vanishes as I stare at my plate. The words escape my lips until I lose the courage to ask, “What do you plan on doing with me?”
“Keep you here as bait. Even if you won’t admit the truth, he’ll come for you.”
I don’t know why, but I can’t help it. Maybe it’s shock or fear, but I laugh, holding my glasses so they don’t slide off my face. It’s not that I find the situation I’m in funny. I’m terrified of him, and I don’t want him to see how unsteady my hands are or how his last words affected me in a way that is keeping me from eating.
His jaw hardens. He drops the food on the plate. He doesn’t notice how my hands are shaking. I should stop antagonizing him with my laughter, but I can’t help it; it’s my body’s way of relieving the anxiety.
When I cover my mouth to stifle another nervous giggle, his chest rises with a sudden intake of breath, and suddenly, glass shatters. Wine splatters across the floor like blood. I scream, shielding my face as tiny needles of glass graze my skin. The table flips over with a thunderous crash.
Fear knots my stomach in panic. There is no way he could possibly have lifted it. His strength is unmatched. Before I can react, his hands are at my throat, pinning me against the chair.
His grip isn’t tight, but his pupils are gone, replaced by two black voids, endless and consuming. “It’s not funny anymore, is it?”
I shake my head, my throat bobbing against his palm.
“Good.”
Something warm trickles down my cheek. His gaze zeros in on it. His tongue flicks out, running slowly along the cut on my cheek.
I freeze.
His breath is warm against my skin, his touch both gentle and possessive. The softness of his tongue and the intoxicating scent from his skin cause me to whimper. He licks my fucking blood.
“You see what you do to me, Selene?” His voice drops into a whisper. “You make me lose control.”
I bare my teeth. “Fuck you.”
His gaze drops lower.
“You should be afraid of me.”
I am. I look away. “Should I?”
His black demon eyes lift, and I’m sure he can see now that I am afraid of him. He may be human, but there is something in him that isn’t. Something dark and powerful he possesses.
“That’s something you should be, Selene. Afraid. Petrified.”
I glance at my arms; a few tiny pieces of glass haven’t yet broken my skin.
“Don’t move.” He pushes off my chair and heads to the table.
He snaps his fingers. A dwarf runs up with a glass and a couple of items wrapped in leather.
Feeling a tiny trickle on my cheek, I reach up to the side of my head to the cut. It must have opened and started to bleed. “What are you doing?”
He pulls a chair across the stone floor, taking a seat in front of me. “Cleaning up my mess.” He hands me a metal flute, and it’s red wine from the aroma of currants, cherries, and blackberries. I take a generous sip.
He takes it from me and says, “That’s enough. Now, hold still.”
I squeeze my legs together and look straight ahead. There is blood on his bottom lip. A thrill runs down my spine, remembering the feel of his tongue on my skin. “Are you going to let me go?” I ask when he begins to clean me up.
“No.”
I inwardly sigh. “Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know how I got here?”
He carefully inspects my right arm with some sort of tweezers in his hand. “I’m not sure yet.”
“Then let me go.”
“You’ll either die by my hand or out there,” he says in a cold voice. “But I can guarantee you have a better chance of surviving by staying with me.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“No,” he snaps, making me jolt.
“You don’t trust anyone, do you?”
“No.”
“Then why are you helping me right now?”
“Like I said, you are no good to me if you’re dead.” He licks the blood from his bottom lip. “I assure you, it’s not an act of kindness.”
“What happened to Lox?”
He angles his head, his expression turning sinister. “I killed him.”
I look away as tears prick my eyes. “You’re a monster.”
A dangerous grin spreads across his lips. “You’re catching on, Selene.”