I must have been. Ygdris and I had still talked after that, so if I’d lost the comm then, how could—
“Tay, you must be close to him now. I can feel it. It’s faint, but… Oh, sun and stars.” Ygdris cries out in a language I don’t recognise. “Find him, and take him to my ship, I—”
Ygdris’ voice cuts off with a scream.
His voice is in my head. It must be. I couldn’t hear it otherwise. Telepathic communication. It should be impossible, but—
—that scream—
I’m already moving. I grab the prisoner’s left ankle – he jerks at my touch – and buzz through the manacle. Then the right one.
“What just happened?” Ygdris’ treasure demands. “I felt – damn it all, I’m too drained. But you…” He strains towards me, his expression hungry.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Liar.”
“No, it’s not, but we have to get out of here, now.”
He’s too high for me to reach his wrists. I haul the cabinet over and clamber onto it. Still not high enough.
“Sorry,” I mutter, and wrap my arms around his shoulders.
His body is like a furnace. Like the sun I felt when I stepped into his presence. Muscles tighten under my hands as I climb up him, and he inhales sharply.
“Sorry, I know I’m hurting you, but—”
My blade buzzes through one wrist manacle. He swings to the side, his whole body held up now only by his other wrist, and I almost lose my grip.
He grabs me tight. I gasp. However long he’s been here, he’s still strong enough to hold me against him.
And pull my head down to his, until our foreheads are pressed together.
“What are you doing?” I yell. “I still have to get the second manacle!”
His mouth moves and I shake my head. “It’s no good! I can’t hear anything you’re saying!”
I try to pull away but he’s holding me tight. A trickle of fear makes its way down my spine. A minute ago, he looked like he wanted to kill me. I know he’s Ygdris’ treasure, but…
Being the Protectorate’s captive changes you. What if it’s driven him mad?
“Let me go!” I scream, struggling against his iron grip. It’s no use.
His mouth twists with frustration and he mutters something. I think I catch the shape of the word Ygdris on his lips, though that might just be because I feel like cursing the bloody dragon, too, and then his fingers tighten on the back of my head, drawing me closer.
Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.
His lips are rough, and I shiver as they press against mine. The kiss is strangely matter-of-fact, like some sort of ludicrous we’re-both-about-to-be-torn-to-pieces-by-dragons formality, until he grazes a cut on my lip and I gasp.
He moans, low in his throat, and kisses me again, passionate, possessive, and so intense my fingertips curl. He ravishes my mouth, biting down on my cut lip as our breaths intermingle and I cry out, suddenly dizzy.
“Quickly.” His voice is smoother than before, free of the ragged edges of exhaustion. Guilt curls in my stomach, but it feels strange, like it’s not my emotions I’m feeling. “Let’s get out of here.”
I feel like the top of my head has popped off and is rolling around somewhere. The prisoner stares at me. In the alarm lights, his eyes are a vivid red.
“Hurry!” he repeats, and I snap into action.
I stretch across his other shoulder until I can reach to cut through the final manacle. It parts like water under the drac-tech blade.