What a mess.
I hightail it out of there, casting my gaze back on the small, muggy room’s dewy walls—
The back of my neck prickles. Like somebody behind me just stepped up close.
The rhythmic thud of heavy, clattering steps shatters the eerie silence, and I recall Essi’s words:
When he walked away, his boots made clattering sounds …
My blood chills.
The noise circles me like one of The Shade’s notorious hushlings circling their prey—the deadly dance of a predator near the top of the food chain. A predator who has earned the right to play with their food before they crouch down to feast.
I see his boots first, heels bridled by metal spurs that are caked in enough flesh and blood I’m snarling even before I lift my gaze to the male’s face.
Cold, calculating eyes—twin cerulean orbs—lock on me.
Rekk Zharos.
He smiles. “There she is.”
I jerk against my restraints so hard the flesh around my wrists splits, flushing with a burn that pales in comparison to the swollen ache in my chest.
“You killed Essi.”
My voice comes out fractured and cracked, bringing with it the taste of blood.
“We’ve gone over this,” he drawls with a roll of his eyes, moving more into my line of sight—a pillar of lean muscle and smooth, feline movements, the length of his iron-tipped whip trailing him like a tail. “If you want to catch a feral mutt, you must lure it with the right bait. One must be resourceful in my line of work. Much as you probably like to think you’re special, it really is nothing personal.”
I’ll tell him the same as I’m carving into his chest after I free myself from these fucking restraints. Though it’ll be a lie he’ll glean when I pop a fresh bubble of laughter with every slice. Because it is personal.
Very.
I jerk against the ropes tied around my wrists again.
Again.
“At least it wasn’t personal until you bit off my finger,” he mutters, lifting his right hand and waving the bandaged nub at me.
I still, my tongue coming up to poke at the stringy thing threaded between my teeth …
That makes sense. So, too, does my aching jaw.
I quietly hope I didn’t swallow the tip, remembering past instances when I’ve blanked out, then come to with a bellyache and a weird gamey taste in my mouth.
Best not to think about these things too hard.
Rekk pauses before me to retrieve a leather pouch from his pocket, unrolling it, pinching out a smoke stick and tucking it between his lips. “So,” he says, the word muffled as he pulls a silver weald from another pocket and flicks back the lid, exposing the small, angry bulb of flame hidden within, now dancing from the crown of the instrument. He uses it to singe the tip of his stick, swathing his face in a puff of smoke. “You’re a dual-bead.”
Breath flees my lungs so fast my expression almost twists into a cringe.
Dammit.
Seems my inner psychopath is paying attention, collecting powerful words it’s used like rocks to weigh me to the bottom of this lake of doom.
It’s an effort not to sigh.
“Am I really?” I force a bemused frown that makes my eye feel like it’s about to pop. “I thought they were just strange voices in my head. Weird.”
He lifts both brows. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Maybe you should use your imagination?”
He sucks a sizzling draw, then blows his breath in my face, packing my lungs full of the thick, potent waft.
“Go easy on those things,” I say, barking out a cough. “I don’t want them mincing your lungs before I have the chance to do it myself.”
Head tipping to the side, his stare narrows. “Your eyes are different. They were black earlier. Now they’re blue.”
“You do have an imagination. Clever boy.”
He grunts, still watching me as he draws another puff, pinching the stick with his injured hand, the next words released with a blow of smoke. “Kemori Daphidone, traveling bard from Orig … What’s your real name?”
“Die a slow, traumatic death and perhaps I’ll consider whispering it against your ear right before your heart gives out.”
“You’re a handful.” His gaze drops to my bust, lifts again, lips curving into a slimy smile. “More than a handful, actually.”
“Much more than you can handle, you pathetic piece of shit.”
He chuffs out a laugh and draws another drag. “I’m a greedy male—”
“If I have to listen to your drivel, at least tell me something I don’t already know.”