by A. K. Koonce
“I—”
“No. No. Actually, I don’t care.” I flop back down in my blanket fort and kick my leg back up. “Turn out the light when you go.”
“Watch your tone,” he warns on a rumbling growl. “And—and don’t let Mordon hear you say the word Elfie, for god’s sakes.”
“Ha!’ I urgingly mock.
“I said watch your tone,” he hisses.
At that, my head tips up just slightly so I can better glare at the asshole peering through my bars.
“Or what, Torben?” I pause to give my slamming thoughts time to catch up with my mouth. “You’ll show me that you’re truly just like them? Newsflash. You already fucking are!”
The lock to my cell is wrenched off with one harsh twist of his wrist. My legs kick against the flooring to stand, to hunch, to gain any sort of defensive stance against the hellish warrior clawing his way into my space. But I’m not fast enough.
His big body is on top of me in less than a second. His palms slam my hands into the blankets, and he shakes as he looks down on me with reckless, fiery rage.
“I am not one of them.” His teeth clench against trembling words.
Time snaps between us like an electric current fused with too much power. I shift slightly beneath the weight of his chest. His hips. His thighs. I’m stretched out and vulnerable beneath the strongest man I’ve ever met. Every part of me is his for the taking.
How does he still make me feel so much sexual frustration among so much irate frustration?
“Yeah.” I breathe out on a shuddering exhale. “You really look like the good guy right now.”
Sudden awareness shadows across his face, and he looks down on me with enough tormented regret swimming in his eyes to drown me alive. Why is he like this? Why?
His hold on my wrists loosens, and he leans back from me little by little until he’s scrambling away.
But I can’t help but grab his hand once more. The callous feel of his palm in mine is hot but not enough to melt away the mixture of hurt and anguish that’s between us.
“Tell me . . .” I don’t even know. But I can’t stop from wanting to understand him. “Tell me something you shouldn’t,” I whisper quietly, but it’s enough to still pain my throat to speak.
“Something I shouldn’t?” His brows lift high with an exhale that carries on for so long, it makes me realize he clearly has a long list of secrets. “I—”
I hang on his every unspoken word. My arm brushes his as I lean in even closer. His gaze drops to our hands still held between us in the little mound of blankets.
“I—” Just when I think he’ll explain things about Hela or my mother or even himself . . . he says something else instead. “I hate this cell. It’s too cramped. Can’t even sit up straight. The floor’s cold.” I’m left speechless as he drops my hand with a lifeless flop and crawls back out the way he came, leaving me with a gaping mouth and a swift view of his ass.
That’s . . . that’s it?
I ask him to tell me something I don’t know, and he describes the sensory appeal of my own cage to me?
I am well a-fucking-ware.
Then he squats down at the open cell door. “Come on. Out.” He nods his head with a quick and impatient gesture.
I peer at him and then the few feet of space between us like it might swallow me up if I dare to touch it. Hesitantly, I, too, crawl toward the door. But like a defensive animal, I slow my pace when I get nearer to him.
It’s not a trick. He isn’t that cruel. I don’t think.
No, I’m sure. As much as he constantly shows me the darkest parts of him, I’ve seen the other side. The lighter side.
The good side.
I shift carefully past him and stand on unsteady feet. My knees ache to give out as they always do when he lets me out. Stiffly, I roll my shoulders, lifting my arms high above my head to stretch them this way and then that.
When my eyes open from relishing in the feel of unrestrained bliss, I find him watching me with a roaming gaze. It drifts from the high slit of yesterday’s dress to the sheer cloth that covers my stomach, the tight material pressing across my breasts, to my lips, and finally, to my questioning eyes.
The rumbling of noise as he clears his throat breaks our locked attention.
“I have to go to her. I want you to enjoy the room for the day. Take a long bath, knit, or read a book, or whatever it is women like to do when they have free time.” He lifts his hand vaguely to the shelves lining one wall.
Knit? He thinks I like to knit?
I pause and tread lightly at this newfound freedom. But ultimately, I ask anyway.
“Can I see my mother?”
“No,” he answers flatly.
“Ca—”
“I’m responsible for you! Do not leave this room. Don’t make a fucking sound.” His wide eyes search mine, and I say nothing in response. I don’t give one inkling of agreement. “I’ll lock the bedroom door behind me. I have to keep the light off just in case, but there are lamps in the cabinet near the book shelf.”
A strange uncertainty passes between us as he watches me and I watch him, both of us seemingly waiting for the other to lash back out at any moment. That’s our normal now.
And we clearly have no idea how to function in a new form of basic human decency toward each other.
“Okay,” he nods, but the fear and doubt of his decision to let me out is written all over his face like a sexy bearded caveman considering if fire really is magic or not.
“Okay,” he reassures himself once more. “This will be fine.” He nods hard. I squint at him. Another hard nod seems to rattle his caveman brain enough to get him moving. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Time literally doesn’t exist for me anymore. Be back from your anniversary fuckfest whenever you want.” I fold my arms and stare him down.
It’s very evident now that our trial run at human decency was not a success.
Partly my fault for trying to wade through this weird, jealous bitterness I’ve stumbled upon, but mostly his fault for being a total lying, conniving, queen-fucking hypocrite.
His lips tighten, but he seems to bite back his remark.
“Enjoy your night,” he says stiffly.
“You too,” I antagonize dramatically.
His features fall into that same dark look he wore when he first came in.
“I won’t,” he says on a whisper but just loud enough to break my heart.
The hard wall of confidence I’ve built up around myself in this place crumbles to dust as he walks away. My hands lower from their tightly folded spot to a numb place at my sides. The light dims out into heavy darkness around us. Each beat of my heart hurts for him.
I hate that I don’t know any more if I should comfort him or kill him.
Maybe I never will.
4
A Nice Hot Bath
Rhys
After the third attempt at reading a book from the mostly empty book shelf in Torben’s room, I’ve realized they’re all in Latin. But after hours of lazily turning pages in the warm, golden light of a small gaslight lamp, I’ve come to appreciate the art.
I have no idea what the words say, but every few pages, an illustration of chariots and lightning and gods sketch across the thin paper of the book. They’re detailed in ways that hold mystical beauty and disturbing destruction.
I’m halfway through one when a new scrawling image covers two full pages from corner to corner.
It’s a tree with limbs and creatures making up layers of life, it seems. Light beams just above the many branches. Clearly the clouds of some sort of heaven are at the top, but a snake is all that shows where Hell must be. Even stranger . . . a dragon lies quietly alone far beneath the section of the snake, even below the thinning roots of the tree.
Just shadowy ink and the lonely dragon. A line pinches at my eyebrows. My fingers shift back and forth over the image of the creature, remembering how beautiful Aric was in his natural form
.
A sinking feeling drops through my heart, and I have to close the book quickly before all the emotions I’ve buried inside myself flood out.
Hela wouldn’t hurt him. Not really. She needs Aric and Latham. She wouldn’t hurt them.
That’s what I’ve told myself every single day. And I still don’t know if I believe it.
I close my eyes and take a slow breath before carrying the book back to its place on the stone shelf. I stand there for a second and try to think of what to do next.
Another nap?
God, please no.
What an asshole to offer me a warm bath when literally all I have at my disposal is a bed, books, and my own brain. He doesn’t even own knitting supplies. Not that I know how, but I would have given it a go.
Three weeks ago, these few peaceful hours would have sounded like a vacation.
How did my life come to this?
I lean against the cool wall for a moment and wonder if I have the energy to get in a few more pushups to pass the time.
My aching muscles in my arms say no.
With a heavy sigh, I kick my foot off the wall, but instead of shoving away, I fall the other way. Backward. Hard. The structure supporting my weight sways out, and I don’t even stumble. I hit the ground so roughly, light bursts behind my eyes with a slam of immediate pain.
The cry at the back of my throat is bit back as I try not to make a sound . . . I mean, aside from the racket of the wall sliding away and me attempting to break a stone flooring with my literal skull.
I lift slightly and look out through an apparent door to the bedroom I was just standing in. My attention drifts over the darkness. The meager amount of light shining from the nightstand lamp in the bedroom doesn’t help at all.
Is this a hidden room? A passageway? Could it lead to Latham or Aric? Could I find them?
In seconds, I’m running for my lamp. My bare feet skim over the cool floor with the speed only a shifter could be capable of. And then the light chases out the dark.
Only to show me four more solid walls.
And one amazing fucking bathroom.
Water washes in from a high ceiling, falling stunningly into a carved well. The pool bubbles warm and inviting steam that kisses across my flesh. Goosebumps rise over my arms in the heat of the intoxicating room. Smooth stones are displayed in a pyramid pile near a flat, granite bed that I wish someone would massage every single part of my body on.
I step farther into the room. The lamp wobbles slightly on the rocky surface of the makeshift bath, but once it stays put, I waste no time crossing my arms and pulling the dress away. The thin material skims over me. When I’m naked and not dressed for someone else’s approval, I suddenly feel free.
Being alone has that effect, I’m finding. There’s no one to show a brave face for. No one to hide my tears from.
They can lock me away, but I’m very much free.
And the blissful, quiet laughter that trembles in my chest as I step foot into the hot, exhilarating water is a beautiful sound I haven’t heard in so long. I’m not even their prisoner in this moment. My happiness and the warmth in my heart is my own. No one in all the realms will ever steal that away from me.
Hot water slides over my calves, my thighs, my hips, and all until I’m so submerged, I have to stop myself from just slipping down into it completely. I don’t know how it has that effect on me. It washes away all the emotions I’ve carried around with me since the day I leapt into this realm. My eyes close at that memory but instead of seeing the tragedy of that day, my thoughts go straight to his smile.
Aric’s russet eyes crease at the corners as his laughter booms over my body in a way that makes me feel alive with his own happiness. The rumbling warmth of Latham’s voice whispers into my mind:
You do belong. Especially with us.
I can see him clearly. My mind keeps tracing the lines of his lips and highlighting the brightness of his eyes. That sweet sentiment is tainted with sorrow now. I should have believed the tragedy that shined in his and Latham’s eyes, despite the calm they always conveyed. But he wasn’t lying. I really am one of them now. A fucking trophy of Hell to be used however Hela sees fit.
Dampness streaks down my cheeks before I even realize the tears are there.
Don’t.
My eyes flash open. The flickering light shows the same four walls. Nothing more. No one else. But I could have sworn I heard . . .
A shiver flits down my shoulders, a knowing sensation that I can’t explain. I carefully sink lower to ease my nerves. I can’t close my eyes to fully enjoy the bath anymore. My body’s now tense with a strange sensation of not being alone.
You’re not.
A gasp tears from my throat. Water flings around me as I spin fully to search the densely dark corners of the bathroom. But the warm, honey voice isn’t there.
“Calm down, Rhys,” I mumble to myself. “A few days in Hell would have anyone going crazy. It’s okay. We’ll get a demon therapist or something to sort this out. It’ll be fine.”
You’re not crazy, Love. Not even a little.
The way he says my name slams stunning memories through my mind. And Latham’s beautifully tormented smile fills every single one of them.
“Latham . . .” I hesitantly say his name in the shadowy room. The drilling of my heart is no longer a fearful beat but a hopeful pulse of need that wakes my wolf inside me ever so slightly.
I need him here. I’ve never needed anyone in my entire life, but I need him here now. Just to know he’s okay.
I’m fine. I’m always fine. I just want you to take care of yourself. Don’t let them make you cry. You’re strong, Rhys. Remember that.
“Where are you?” I whisper like a crazy person to literally no one. But if I really am going crazy, I hope I never fucking come back.
That’s not important. Just know I’m with you. Whenever you need me.
I blink through that thought. That’s what it is. His voice is like a thought in my mind. It’s not even a foggy memory. It’s clear as day with the hints of his alluring accent lingering in my thoughts.
I miss him so damn much. I knew I did, but somehow it feels rawer and rarer now that I’m reminded I don’t have him.
“How is this possible?” I ask hesitantly, still whispering quietly against the warm water falling from the tall ceiling. “How are you doing this?”
I’m not. I’m not doing anything really. I just kept thinking of you. I kept . . .
He dwindles off quietly before coming back to explain.
I kept thinking that I’d never kissed anyone the way I kissed you. It felt . . . like divine damnation. And tasted like heaven.
My cheeks warm instantly as I remember the way he kissed me and the way his sexy words made me feel. My thighs shift in the water, and since I have this man literally living rent-free in my head, I have to force myself not to think about how good he felt inside me.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t—
His warm, rumbling laughter shakes through my thoughts and all through my limbs like a tingling electric shock.
Yeah. I thought about that too, Love.
My eyes close hard, but a smile spreads over my face at the very thought of him. My slick palms push over my upper arms, hugging myself the way I wish he could. Goose pimples chase across my flesh. My lashes flutter to overwhelming memories.
“That still doesn’t really explain how I’m able to hear you.”
A lull of silence slips in, and a fear that he’s gone forever lashes through me.
I—I don’t really know how to explain it. One minute, I was thinking of you, and the next . . . I could hear you. I could feel your worry. Your pain was more than my own. Everything about you was suddenly so much more important than me. You were everything.
My mouth parts, but there isn’t a single thing I could say that would feel as poetic as Latham. How is he always so perfectly put together even during the most bizarre situat
ions?
“Can I see you?” I ask on the quietest voice I dare to speak.
Torben said no. On more than one occasion.
No.
Latham’s response is flat and commanding. Almost identical to Torben’s.
“I want to see you,” I tell him more firmly this time.
No. Don’t think about that. I’m fine. Just focus on you. You’re strong enough to withstand Hela. And I know you’re smart enough to make it through this.
I don’t dare think it, but he said he was in pain. That my pain was more than his own.
And I can’t ignore that.
“Mates,” I say instead.
. . . Mates?
“After years of knowing one another inside and out, wolf mates can hear each other’s thoughts. They share a bond like no other. That’s the only time I’ve ever heard of this kind of magic.”
An uncomfortable flit of quiet drops in.
I—I, uh, I think it’s probably just bad reception here or something. Crossed waves of mind magic that’s been pent up for too long that’s made your emotions link with mine. It’ll probably be sorted out once you’re back in the human realm.
I blink at his response. I didn’t exactly think we were mates even though we’re both wolves of sorts. Sure, the sex was amazing. He’s amazing. Smart. Sweet. Sexy. So undeniably sexy.
“Yeah. Crossed waves makes way more sense,” I finally murmur just to get my thoughts to shut up before he hears too much.
“Who are you talking to?” A booming voice shakes through the room, rattling my focus entirely.
I shake my head hard as my gaze meets the intense stare of the man filling the doorway. It’s strange how big and empty the cavernous space suddenly seems now that I focus on it all. Torben’s brooding appearance is scary in the darkness. So much so that I still don’t know how I ever thought of him as the sweet Hell warrior who protected me.
“No one,” I answer too quickly.
His brows lower even more. Only when his dark attention drifts south do I realize I’m holding my arms around myself like a hug . . . and only emphasizing the plumpness of my slick breasts in the flickering light.