Page 22

This is a dream. It’s all been a dream since I stepped foot outside the Wall. The early morning sun is out, slicing through the drab curtains in a way that can only be described as wrong as I follow him out of the bathing room. Bypassing the bed, I hobble out to the living room and peer around like I’m walking into some strange new land before I topple onto the couch less than gracefully.

Flopping onto my back, I draw an arm over my eyes and mumble unintelligibly into the back of my arm as he peruses the vials on his shelf. “What?” he asks.

“I said, what is my life? I don’t know it anymore.”

He laughs softly. “You’re dramatic.”

“Dramatic? No, I think I’m being pretty calm, considering. Practically tranquil.” I simply don’t have the energy to worry about what’s going to happen to me now.

He positions himself on the coffee table before me and settles an assortment of items beside him. “Come here.”

“Why?” I ask suspiciously.

“So I can work on your arms.”

I pull myself up with a grunt. “What are you doing? I can do it.”

He ignores me, reaches forward, and tugs my arm out. “This might sting a little,” he warns before he begins dabbing the cloth against the many welts. Earlier, when he’d tied the fabric, he’d been careful not to make much contact, but this time, he wraps a warm palm around my wrist to steady me.

He turns all of his concentration on my arms, one prominent brow puckered. His lashes are so long they sweep his cheeks when his eyes shutter closed, and his tongue pokes out to rest against his bottom lip. I force myself to avert my gaze. The next thing I know, I’m looking again.

A man is touching me. Tenderly. Delicately. Sweat accumulates against my palms, and my heart turns to a flutter as sharp flashes of heat wash over me. His thumb caresses the sensitive part of my inner elbow, and I give a little jerk. Oh my God.

“Sorry.” He looks up to scrutinize me, and his expression turns quizzical. “You’re not still feeling the side effects, are you? You look…red.”

“Maybe a little,” I lie. He carefully bandages my wounds and starts the process with the other arm, and that strange series of emotions repeats itself. What is wrong with me? Is this what it’s like to be in the company of…men? My understanding was always that it was them who were supposed to be affected by us. That’s why we’re sentenced to a life under the Shroud so as not to tempt them. But he doesn’t seem affected at all.

When he finally finishes, I plop back down on the sofa and cover my face as he gathers up the supplies. “Don’t get comfortable yet.”

“Why?”

“You’re not sleeping out here.”

I snap my head back up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for one—“ He tosses something onto the couch. Resting at my feet lays my crafted rope. Shit . “You’ve ruined your only blanket. And, for two, I’d rather not deal with any more escape attempts today,” he declares, one eyebrow twitching up in the direction of the balcony door.

“You won’t,” I promise. At least not today.

“No offense, but I really don’t trust you. Come pet,” he calls as he motions toward the bedroom.

“I’m not sleeping with you!”

“Don’t be difficult.”

“No,” I say firmly, crossing my arms over my chest. My body suddenly levitates off the couch. I scramble wildly, but whatever magic holds me keeps me upright as he carries me toward the bedroom. “Put. Me. Down!”

“Planning on it.” He drops me onto his bed and I jolt up, preparing to run for the door as he strolls in and slams it shut behind him. He waves a hand over it that I’m certain has sealed the door closed.

“You told me I wouldn’t have to share your bed!”

“That was a figurative statement. I meant that I’m not going to make you fu—“

“I know what you meant!” I snarl before he can finish that statement.

He holds the rope I crafted, lifting it and stretching it out across his palms as he studies it. “This was dangerous,” he admonishes.

“Not as dangerous as you.”

His brows shoot up at my quick quip. He cocks his head to the side as if to say that’s a fair point as he strides toward the bed and seats himself on the edge. “I’m not a danger to you.”

“Of course not—you only just want to discard yourself of me.”

He sighs, eyes drifting shut. “I tell Morin a lot of things that are not the truth. Believe it or not, I’m trying to protect you,” he says adamantly before turning his attention back to the rope. “This is not long enough for you to have climbed all the way down.” His gaze flicks up. “How did you…”

I have no intention of telling him the truth of it. His eyes suddenly widen, and he bolts toward the door. I hear items being jostled like he’s searching for something in one of his trunks… shit . When he reenters, his jaw is set, and his eyes hard. “You didn’t work alone.”

I rearrange my face into what I hope is a convincing expression of surprise. It’s the wrong move as his contorts in anger. “Don’t lie. Look at me.” I let out a puff, chest deflating as I meet his gaze.

“You can’t trust Div. He’s an Imp. He thrives on causing mayhem. He feeds on it. He’s the reason you went to the Blood Wood, isn’t he?”

I shrink into the headboard, feeling like a small scorned child under his wrath. He slides a knee onto the bed and forces my reddening face back up. “I need to be certain you understand this. Tell me what happened.” His voice softens a fraction. “Did Div instruct you to go to the Blood Wood?”

“Yes,” I say through clenched teeth.

“And then what happened?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to him. He could be hurt…”

He snorts. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back. He always fucking comes back. Though he usually stays away for a few days after doing something especially heinous.” He drops my chin. “So he abandoned you?” He asks although it sounds like he’s trying to coach the answer he wants from me. “He instructed you to go to one of the worst places you could go and abandoned you there?”

“I guess so,” I mumble out with a bitter shrug.

“No, princess. Not guess. That’s what he did. This is what he does.”

“Why do you even have him then?”

His jaw flexes. “If I could get rid of him, I would, but no one else is dumb enough to make themselves master of him like I did. So I’m stuck with him, permanently, probably.”

I shift uncomfortably. There is one person dumb enough.

“That’s why I need you to be sure you understand his nature so he doesn’t convince you into doing anything dumb again.”

Too late. “Why did you make yourself his master?”

He huffs a breath out his nostrils, more in amusement this time than frustration. “Because I was a dumb, rebellious teenager, and I wanted to summon something from the Otherworld. Sometimes I really do think he’s the cause of all of my misfortune.” He turns a beseeching look back on me. “Just…use caution with him.”

With no will left to fight him, I sink down and pull the blankets up over me before facing the wall to signal to him that I’m done with conversation for the night. There’s only the quiet sounds of him undressing before his bed shifts with his weight. I stare at the wall, a new worry quickening my pulse. “Are you going to tell anyone I tried to escape?”

“Who would I tell?”

“I don’t know….Morin?”

He hesitates. “She’ll know I went to the Blood Wood. But you don’t need to worry about that. I’ll come up with something. I will never tell Morin anything that takes place between us.”

I have no idea if he’s telling me the truth. The words are a comfort nonetheless. I whip around, shortly wishing that I hadn’t, with his eyes peering back at me just an arm’s length away, chest bare and the blanket draped across his waist. I draw the blanket up over my nose to shield my heated cheeks. “Why does she want to punish you anyway?”

“Ugh,” he complains, eyes darting away as he flips onto his back. Silence fills the room and I turn back around when I realize he doesn’t intend to answer me, but then, in a quiet voice, he says, “Maybe I deserve to be punished.”