Shit. He smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead and turned back for his corner.
“Not exotic,” he mumbled. “Stupid.” It was more than possible the highborns were setting some kind of trap for him with her, and he was even more determined now not to fall into it.
He lowered himself back to the cold floor, shifted against the stones, and cringed at the sharp shot of pain in his side. Glancing down, he realized the bandage he’d wrapped around his torso was soaked with blood.
Fucking fabulous. Just what he needed. But there was nothing he could do about it now except wait until morning. Closing his eyes, he tried to rest.
Sleep came fitfully. His side burned, his legs ached, and he felt as if he’d been through a meat grinder, thanks to Malik’s workout. He shivered, wrapped his arms around himself, shifted deeper into the corner and tried to find warmth as the hours ticked by. But even as he drifted between sleep and consciousness, images wafted behind his eyes. Talah’s dark hair blowing in the breeze, her olive skin, her gentle smile. Images that slowly morphed until her eyes were no longer gray but sharp, green gems, her hair a drape of wavy red, her lips not curved in sweet compassion but plump, erotic…tempting.
Lips that moved, speaking to him in a voice not from the past but from the present.
* * *
Crouching in the corner of the cell with the lone candle she’d lit flickering light over the stone walls, Kavin cringed. Sound asleep, the sahad was like dead weight, and just lifting his elbow made her muscles strain.
His eyes were still closed, his head resting against the wall, but his skin was burning hot to the touch. She’d tried to ignore his murmurs, hoping he was simply dreaming, but the longer they’d gone on, making zero sense, the less she could. Especially when she realized he must have given her his blanket sometime in the night.
She didn’t owe him anything. He’d made it perfectly clear he didn’t want her around. But she couldn’t ignore him either. So she’d lit a candle, climbed out of bed, and crossed the floor. And now her stomach was tossing on a sea of unease at the bright red blood staining the bandage against his ribs.
“You’re impossible to fight with, Marid,” she whispered.
His eyes popped open. His body jerked. Then his hand closed over hers against his elbow.
Kavin gasped, tried to pull away. His grip was strong, locking her in place, reminding her of the night he’d held her against the wall. Fear threatened to push in as he stared hard into her eyes, his gaze clouded and unwavering. But instead of being filled with venom—as before—this time, his eyes looked haunted, not those of a killer per se, but of a man who’d seen too much, lived through too much, and was fighting to cope with the fallout.
Silence stretched between them. Her heart raced beneath her breast. He wasn’t a man, and she was foolish to think him anything but the monster she’d come to know. But…as his fingers seared her skin, as his gaze bore into hers, tension and something Kavin hadn’t felt before—some electric and overpowering current—charged the air.
Her pulse picked up speed as she stared into his hard, dark eyes. Her adrenaline soared. Before she could figure out what the odd sensation was, he let go and dropped his head back against the wall with a groan.
Relief spiraled through her—or was that regret? Her head was so jumbled she suddenly didn’t know. Rubbing her hand over the spot he’d just held, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Couldn’t.
“Allah,” she muttered, noticing the sweat beaded his brow, the pale and clammy skin. He wasn’t just injured, he was sick. “You need help.”
“Don’t want help,” he whispered, eyes closed. “’Specially not yours. Just want to be left alone. Alone is…safe.”
Emptiness rippled through Kavin’s chest. An emptiness she’d been fighting since the moment her parents had
“Not exotic,” he mumbled. “Stupid.” It was more than possible the highborns were setting some kind of trap for him with her, and he was even more determined now not to fall into it.
He lowered himself back to the cold floor, shifted against the stones, and cringed at the sharp shot of pain in his side. Glancing down, he realized the bandage he’d wrapped around his torso was soaked with blood.
Fucking fabulous. Just what he needed. But there was nothing he could do about it now except wait until morning. Closing his eyes, he tried to rest.
Sleep came fitfully. His side burned, his legs ached, and he felt as if he’d been through a meat grinder, thanks to Malik’s workout. He shivered, wrapped his arms around himself, shifted deeper into the corner and tried to find warmth as the hours ticked by. But even as he drifted between sleep and consciousness, images wafted behind his eyes. Talah’s dark hair blowing in the breeze, her olive skin, her gentle smile. Images that slowly morphed until her eyes were no longer gray but sharp, green gems, her hair a drape of wavy red, her lips not curved in sweet compassion but plump, erotic…tempting.
Lips that moved, speaking to him in a voice not from the past but from the present.
* * *
Crouching in the corner of the cell with the lone candle she’d lit flickering light over the stone walls, Kavin cringed. Sound asleep, the sahad was like dead weight, and just lifting his elbow made her muscles strain.
His eyes were still closed, his head resting against the wall, but his skin was burning hot to the touch. She’d tried to ignore his murmurs, hoping he was simply dreaming, but the longer they’d gone on, making zero sense, the less she could. Especially when she realized he must have given her his blanket sometime in the night.
She didn’t owe him anything. He’d made it perfectly clear he didn’t want her around. But she couldn’t ignore him either. So she’d lit a candle, climbed out of bed, and crossed the floor. And now her stomach was tossing on a sea of unease at the bright red blood staining the bandage against his ribs.
“You’re impossible to fight with, Marid,” she whispered.
His eyes popped open. His body jerked. Then his hand closed over hers against his elbow.
Kavin gasped, tried to pull away. His grip was strong, locking her in place, reminding her of the night he’d held her against the wall. Fear threatened to push in as he stared hard into her eyes, his gaze clouded and unwavering. But instead of being filled with venom—as before—this time, his eyes looked haunted, not those of a killer per se, but of a man who’d seen too much, lived through too much, and was fighting to cope with the fallout.
Silence stretched between them. Her heart raced beneath her breast. He wasn’t a man, and she was foolish to think him anything but the monster she’d come to know. But…as his fingers seared her skin, as his gaze bore into hers, tension and something Kavin hadn’t felt before—some electric and overpowering current—charged the air.
Her pulse picked up speed as she stared into his hard, dark eyes. Her adrenaline soared. Before she could figure out what the odd sensation was, he let go and dropped his head back against the wall with a groan.
Relief spiraled through her—or was that regret? Her head was so jumbled she suddenly didn’t know. Rubbing her hand over the spot he’d just held, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Couldn’t.
“Allah,” she muttered, noticing the sweat beaded his brow, the pale and clammy skin. He wasn’t just injured, he was sick. “You need help.”
“Don’t want help,” he whispered, eyes closed. “’Specially not yours. Just want to be left alone. Alone is…safe.”
Emptiness rippled through Kavin’s chest. An emptiness she’d been fighting since the moment her parents had
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