“Do not dare,” a gravelly voice snapped.Hisvoice. The male’s.
Exclamations came, one after another. “Ahhh! He even sounds like sex!”
“Where did you find him, and how long can I rent him?”
“A real-life slice of man-candy!”
“We’ll be making an announcement about him soon,” someone called. “Now back off. We gotta get him settled in at the palace first. Oh, and no one touches the piece of glass in his arms.”
Glass? Blythe?
“I will gut anyone who tries.” His every word dripped with promise. “Understand?”
She went still. He protects me?
Amid rising murmurs, she poured what remained of her strength into eradicating the song. Finally, the notes split down the middle, memories surging forth. Laban. Invasion. Betrayal. Ation. Wraith. Roux.
Rage fueled her hatred, heating the ruby and bringing more of that dreaded weakness. But no matter. You didn’t always need to be the strongest opponent to win a battle; you just had to be more determined. She erupted, hissing, cursing, and clawing.
“How are you so soft and so vicious at the same time?” he muttered.
She squirmed and fought and bucked. But the ruby continued to heat and weakness continued to flood in, allowing the song to repair itself. The next thing she knew, her memories vanished, and she was floating away in an ocean of nothingness.
“This is where you’ll be staying.”
Roux couldn’t identify the speaker. The entire welcome party had crammed into a hallway at the top of the “palace.” A silo set in the center of a circle of nineteen other silos.
With Blythe in his arms, he pushed past the group. Any blip of contact razed already-razed nerves. There. A door. He shouldered his way into a spacious bedroom.
“Feel free to drop off your baggage and join us on the third floor for a quick game of strip poker. Don’t worry. We won’t let you be late for your first da—”
He kicked the door shut, ending her invitation.
A quick scan revealed lavishly detailed furniture made from wood, stones, and metals. Candles flickered throughout, tinging the air with the fragrance of magnolia and melting wax. A set of open windows lured in golden sunlight and a cool breeze.
He teleported his backpack to a cushioned chair near the crackling hearth, then strode to the four-poster canopied bed. As gently as possible, he placed his sleeping bundle atop the mattress. He meant to walk away and find her clean clothes, but the sight of her arrested him.
Black locks spread over a white pillow, framing a face too lovely to be real. Long lashes fanned out, reminding him of a peacock’s plumage. The most ridiculous thought he’d ever entertained. For once, her plump red lips weren’t set in a grim line, turned down in a frown, or curved in a calculating grin. No, they were slightly parted, as if she prepared for his kiss.
His breath hitched. That. That was the most ridiculous thought he’d ever entertained. As if she would ever wish to kiss him.
Trying not to care, he reached out and traced a fingertip over the glistening ruby embedded in her throat. Warm. Becausesheburned?
A now familiar heat infiltrated his being, as wonderful as it was terrible. With a huff, he pivoted to begin his search for clothing at last. A chore requiring less than thirty seconds. The desired items hung in a wardrobe on the other side of the room. A plethora of leather tops, shirts, dresses, and sheer gowns. A pale blue one caught his notice. The perfect match for her eyes.
Not select it? Impossible.
The heat worsened as he returned to the bed, the swatch of material in hand.Ignore it.He traded her bloody garment for the clean one, never allowing himself to gaze anywhere but the pillow. A feat requiring every ounce of his strength. Still the heat increased.
The second he finished his chore, he exited the force field of her unnatural appeal and sank into the chair near the hearth. Only then did he let himself peer at her. And peer at her he did, unwavering, planning to spring up at the first sign of wakefulness. Because...just because.
He kept his gaze glued to her even as he dug into the pack, removing a dagger and stone. After dropping the bag at his feet, he sharpened the already sharp blade. For hours. Watching. Waiting. Wondering who he was soon to face. The snuggler who rubbed against him for comfort or the she-beast who fought as if she would happily die as long as she took her enemy with her.
She stretched atop the mattress. Roux froze rather than spring up. He held his breath as she eased into a sitting position. Baby blues glided over the room, slid over him, then darted back and widened. He expected a spill of black over her irises. The blue lingered.
Hope bloomed. Was he soon to interact with the snuggler?
“Are you my consort? You must be. I slept in your presence, and you’re so familiar,” she said with a soft tone.