Chapter One
Past
She stretched as she swam toward consciousness, his hot hand flexing on her bare thigh. A smile tugged at her lips as memories of the night before played through her mind. She opened her eyes and gazed at the handsome, scruffy face on the pillow beside her. Even in sleep, he was breathtaking. The peace of a truly restful sleep made it even more impossible to deny.
Once, she had believed she would never be lucky enough to wake up deliciously sore in the most primal of places, her body echoing with memories of cries offered like prayers to the gods, thanking them for the torturous pleasure he had so masterfully wrung from her. Who knew someone could make you feel so shattered and so whole at the same time?
Even now, her body responded to the sight of him, his tousled midnight hair falling across his brow, the matching beard dusted just slightly with gray. That same strong hand moved higher, gravitating toward the center of her desire as if pulled by a magnet. Her hips shifted toward him involuntarily, and she made no effort to resist. She lacked the energy, and the will.
As he touched her, his eyes snapped open and a growl rumbled from his throat as he moved in to devour her again. His hunger was ravenous, and he consumed all she gave with dark delight. Lightning cracked across the sky as he swallowed her cries, and as she gazed into the glow of his eyes, a chill flickered beneath the heat, a hollow flame of emptiness beginning to consume her.
Present
She saw the shift in his body as if in slow motion. She knew that body, every soft curve, every vulnerable spot, as intimately as her own. She could stop him without killing him. But did she want to?
She wasn’t the same sweet, love-sick girl he’d once fooled so easily. She was a warrior now, forged by betrayal and hardened by loss. Her body moved on instinct, and with a well-placed strike, he dropped to the ground with a pained grunt. When she heard his breath leave in a sigh, she knew he was unconscious, for now.
There was no time to waste.
She moved quickly, binding his wrists and hoisting him over her shoulders with a strength she had earned through fire and battle. As she stepped deeper into the forest’s shadow, she allowed herself one bitter breath of satisfaction. She had won this round of their old, twisted game.
But celebration would be a mistake.
As soon as she began to relax, she felt it—not a sound, but the absence of sound. The forest had gone still. Danger.
She crouched low, melting into the underbrush. Her eyes, sharp in the dark, scanned the path ahead. She spotted them: three men, loud and careless, tromping into the clearing she had just left.
Idiots.
They spread out, laughing and boasting, completely unaware of the trap they’d walked into. Nya whispered a small incantation, tuning her ears to their conversation while masking herself in the gloom.
She didn’t want them dead. Not yet. There were still too many questions. But she did want them to hurt. Whoever commanded these fools had taken everything from her—including the man now slumped beside her.
She looked down at him. Peaceful in sleep, he looked just as he had on those mornings wrapped in linen sheets and feather pillows. How many hours had she spent watching him like this? Too many. Far too many. He had broken her, and he would pay for every stolen moment, every ounce of pain.
But not now. Now, she needed answers.
“They say the Master has an entire stable of concubines of every flavor,” said the pretty one, passing a wine skin with pride. “If you gain his favor, he might even let you try one.”
“Who says?” asked the second man: polite, forgettable, choking on his drink.
“Has anyone actually seen it?” the oldest grunted. A scar twisted one cheek, his voice as rough as gravel. He didn’t look at either of them.
The pretty one puffed up like a peacock. He launched into a tale involving a cousin’s brother-uncle, the story growing more absurd with every word. Their armor clanked and flashed in the sun like beacons, and Nya rolled her eyes. Lymerians. Arrogant. Loud. Stupid. It was a wonder they hadn’t gone extinct already.
As the conversation devolved into drunken chatter about brothels and sex workers, the men stripped off their armor and weapons. Not one of them remained alert enough to stand guard. She could kill them all before the first one hit the ground but honor forbade such a cowardly kill.
She glanced down at the Umbrian man at her feet.
Even now, he looked innocent in sleep. She hated that it still affected her. The memory clamped down on her like a beast with teeth, dragging her backward—
Flashback
As the only daughter of a Telarian diplomat, she had been raised to play the perfect porcelain doll; graceful, beautiful, intelligent enough to charm, but never enough to intimidate. It was a careful balance, one she had mastered.
That night had been another dull diplomatic dinner; blurred faces, recycled conversation, predictable flattery. She moved among the guests with a practiced smile, biding her time until she could return to her chambers, change into pajamas, and curl up with a book and a little Spinna.
But something had shifted. A strange energy tickled her senses; off-kilter, out of place. It teased her curiosity, pulled at her gut. Her eyes scanned the crowd, seeking the anomaly.
And then she saw it: a glimpse of green velvet, silver and gold embroidery slipping through a doorway.
She followed—until he stepped into her path.
“Nya, darling. Why must you persist in making me wait?”
His voice crawled over her skin like a slug, leaving slime in its wake. She resisted a shudder, pasted on a polite smile, and forced herself to stop. The man in the velvet coat would have to wait.
Present
A groan escaped the unconscious man beside her. He was waking.
Nya whispered a containment spell, cloaking them in a bubble of silence and distorted light. To further discourage any curious drunkards, she called a ring of brambles and thorns around them, thick and thorny enough to keep even the boldest fools at bay.
Only then did she kneel beside him.
It was time to begin.
