Nevermore (The Never Sky #2)

Chapter 11

11

T horne’s deep voice sent my heart plunging into my stomach, and I whirled around to face him, my hand clutching the golden notebook like a lifeline. He was standing in the doorway, half concealed by shadows, his bleary eyes catching the glimmer of fading moonlight. He looked like he hadn't slept for days. I tried to ignore the way his white shirt, rolled at the sleeves, clung to his broad shoulders, the fabric pulled taut as he leaned against the doorframe. These thoughts were fucking dangerous, but I had no control over them. Not as his loose suspenders drew my gaze down his muscled frame, and I caught myself wondering how his skin would feel beneath my fingertips.

His brown hair was a tousled mess, strands of it falling over his forehead in a way that made my fingers itch to brush them back, to let my hand trail down his stubbled jaw. Heat flooded through me at the unbidden thoughts, and I quickly forced my attention away from him.

My mind stuttered for a moment as I struggled to find an appropriate response, desperately pushing away the odd pull of his presence and the dangerous path my thoughts had taken.

“I’ve been down here causing a racket for ages. Took you long enough.”

Heat raced across my cheeks. I’d been caught red-handed because the big bastard was quiet as a wraith. How? I had no idea. Swallowing my pride, I threw the book back into the cabinet and slammed the door, accidentally dropping the one I’d intended to keep.

He lifted an eyebrow, and it barely peaked over the dark rim of his glasses. I didn’t miss the way his gaze fell all the way down my borrowed shirt, landing on my bare legs. I had no undergarments and there was no way he didn’t know that. Not that I cared.

“Find something to your liking?” I mocked.

He blinked and the stern face from before returned. “If I did, trust me, you’d know.”

His words hung in the air between us, thick with tension. I spied a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, satisfied with his retort. That smugness needed to go.

“Is that a threat or an invitation?” I asked with a teasing lilt to my voice, hoping to unsettle him. Yet, his eyes narrowed in amusement. He was enjoying this.

“Use context clues to figure it out.” Thorne’s voice was nonchalant, as if he were discussing the weather. He circled the desk, carefully placing each thing I’d moved back to the exact spot it’d been. “What were you hoping to find in my study?”

I moved to stand before the map again, deliberately plucking one of the pins from its home and moving it three inches to the left. “I’m nosey. If you leave your shit unlocked, it’s like a treasure hunt for me. You’ve been warned.”

I plucked two more pins in the time it took him to stride across the room. His gaze never left mine, even as he reached for them. The heat of his hand seared through me. I jerked my hand away, confused by my response to him.

With a calmness that covered his irritation, he took each pin away to replace them exactly where they’d been. He then snatched the book from my underarm, opened it to scan a few pages, and then handed it back.

“Interesting choice.”

“It’s not my fault you have bad taste.”

A casual smile revealed a faint dimple hidden behind the scruff of a fresh beard. A beard?

“How long was I—how do you have a beard?”

“You were asleep for a couple days. You probably needed it, but I’m glad you’re awake. The sun will be up soon, and we’ve got Lithe tonight. There’s no possibility of missing it, of course.”

A couple days? Days? I couldn’t sleep for days. I didn’t have time for that. What did that put the tally at now? Sixty-six, and that was purely a guess. I hid the panic at the sound of a clock ticking through my mind. I needed a plan. And quickly. But Thorne had a connection to the Hollow. Minimally, he knew of the Lord of the Salt or whatever his name was. Though I needed to tread lightly, this was at least a start. No need to push back on Thorne’s plans just yet, in case he could lead me home.

“What’s Lithe?”

“Let’s call it a ball. In the Goddess of Lust’s temple. Where clothing is optional after sunset.” His gaze dropped as he watched me slide the papers on his desk back to where I’d put them. Something about the way his eyes trailed me burned. We were dancing. Even if he didn’t know it. Each move, practiced and patient. But only just. “How have you never heard of it? What town did you say you came from, again?”

I held a blank stare. “I didn’t.”

He jutted a chin toward the map. “Pick one.”

“Is this one of those ?show me where they hurt you’ moments? Because no thank you.” I lifted a picture frame, studied the faces staring back at me for a moment and then put it back, face down, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

He scratched his beard and his dimple reappeared seconds before he re-straightened the papers on the desk. “Humor me.”

“Fine.” I crossed the room to stand before the map, staring at the tiny pins before eventually pointing. “This one.”

“No.” He’d moved so quietly, I hadn’t heard him approach. “That’s Vercant. It was burned to ash in the Bloodleaf Conflict ages ago. The only people that live there now are outlaws.”

“You did find me imprisoned, did you not?”

“I told you not to lie to me. Pick another.”

“I’m really bad with directions and maps.”

He clicked his tongue and gently grabbed my wrist, moving my hand until it hovered over a distant pin. His body was so, so close to mine. Too close. His voice was a deep rumble, sliding down my back. “This one.”

I nodded, ignoring the burn where his hand touched mine. Focusing. “Exactly. I’m from…”

“Misby,” he finished.

“Misby. You didn’t let me answer.”

“Tell me about the climate of Misby. Your main resource. Your father’s surname. Tell me one small fact, anyone in the world, and I’ll move on.”

“There’s a meadow in front of my old house that I used to dance in, even in the rain.”

“Good. That’s not incredibly specific. If you’re going to lie, you have to avoid details that others might know on chance alone. But if that were your answer, then you couldn’t be from Misby because anything that far north is a frozen wasteland year-round. There are no meadows, and it doesn’t rain. It snows. The primary resource there is fur, and the most common surname is Daemon. Repeat that back to me.”

I glared. “No.”

“Listen,” he crossed the room and opened the second drawer of the filing cabinet, pulling out the little golden book. “I don’t care where you lived. I don’t care what past you’re running from. I don’t care if you tell a thousand lies to everyone else. I only care about what affects me and my business. If you’re going to lie, do it better. If you’re going to steal, be sneakier. If you’re going to murder a guard in an alley with a letter opener, don’t fucking stick around for his brothers to find you.”

He knew. I wasn’t sure how, but he knew. And he’d wielded his arrogance like a weapon against me. Only the worst kind of people did that.

“Fine, you want the truth? You’ve got the majority of it down. I’m not going to tell you where I’m from or why I came to Stirling. I didn’t know the guard was going to die, but he assaulted me first. He got what was coming to him. I’m not proud of what happened. I was in shock. But you got one thing wrong in your cocky assessment.” I pulled my hand from where I’d held it tucked in the long sleeve of my borrowed shirt, revealing the coin bag I’d stolen from him while he’d placed my hand on Misby’s pin. “I excel in the art of acquisition.”

A hint of surprise lit his face as he reached for his pocket. “Clever, little thief.”

“That’s what I just said.”

He pressed his lips together to hide the smile as he shook his head. “I have so many regrets right now. Tell me where you’re from, Paesha Noctus.”

“I’m not?—”

“Tell me where you’re from.” His eyes flashed to the map and back to me.

“Misby.”

“Good girl. And your surname?”

“Daemon. My father was a tanner before he died. My mother followed suit a few short years later. Of a broken heart.”

“What a tragedy,” he answered, with no inflection to his tone. “The orphan card will work.”

“I’m twenty-eight years old. That’s hardly an orphan.”

“True, but that’s one more thing about yourself you’ve unwittingly told me.”

I drew back. “I’m not an orphan.”

“Maybe not, but you are twenty-eight, are you not?”

“Judging by your infinite amount of wisdom, and the fact that you think I need to be taught how to survive, I’m guessing you’re about a hundred and forty.”

“No. But good guess.”

He tossed the little golden book to me and I caught it with ease. “Was there a reason you were looking for this?”

“I wasn’t looking for it. I just found it.”

“While digging through my things.”

“Yes.”

He pulled off his glasses, and I was struck again by his handsome features. The dark lashes that hid behind the reflection of the glass, the dimple you had to work to see, the sheer size of the brooding man that seemed to care, at least a little, even if it made no sense at all.

“Look, on some level, you and I are going to have to come to an understanding. It’s either that or you vanish without a trace, and I have to pretend like you died.”

“Death or teamwork, what a horrible choice.”

“Precisely. Which is why you must come to Lithe tonight, and you must play the role of the doting wife.”

I wasn’t a fool. I knew how bargains worked. I sauntered forward, placing my hand on his massive chest. “It sounds like you need me a lot more than I need you. But I’m not in the business of making bargains anymore. Sorry, husband.”

He was as quick as a viper, grabbing my hand and pinning it to his chest. “Don’t make me blackmail you, Paesha. It won’t be pretty.”

There it was.

The threat in his eyes, the card he held back, but we both knew he could play. He would have held onto it longer had I not forced his hand.

“Fine,” I said, feigning annoyance, though I’d had no intentions of leaving just yet. “I’ll play in your little show. But you better make sure I’m the best dressed person there. And clothing will not be optional. Then we’re even. No more blackmail.”

“This isn’t blackmail. I’m just making a valid point. I lied for you. It was a selfless gesture. The least you could do is make sure I don’t get burned.”

“Next time, don’t play with fire and that shouldn’t be a problem, husband.”

He nodded before holding out the golden pocketbook. “Keep it.”

“What? No. I don’t want that. It’s probably your great, great grandfather’s or something.”

“Does it matter?” A sardonic smile graced his lips, a smaller version of the one he’d given earlier, not for show, but for himself, showcasing his single dimple. A confirmation that he’d won. “It’ll just collect dust in the back of that old cabinet. Maybe you can use it to keep track of your lies, Paesha darling.”

I’d taken the damn book, of course. Determined to sell it the first chance I got. It was small enough to hide in a pocket and one never knew when the opportunity would arise. Thorne had something to hide and something to gain in all of this. I could wear fancy dresses and pretend for a crowd. I’d been doing that my whole life. But eventually he’d be the one to lead me to the Hollow. And I needed that portal more than I needed a clingy new husband.

I sat in the armchair of my assigned room, draped in a stunning gown. Like the night sky in fabric form, the darkness of the silk was broken up by thousands of tiny, twinkling gems that formed constellations across my body, from the crest of my shoulders to the gentle sweep where the fabric pooled at my feet. The whirl of stars embroidered on the sleeves were delicately stitched with platinum threads that gleamed under the lamplight, drawing eyes to the elegant path they traced down to the fine lace at my wrists, iridescent beads woven into the threading to mimic distant galaxies. It was quite possibly the most stunning thing I’d ever worn, and that was saying something, considering I’d once danced a show in nothing but rubies and diamonds strung together.

Thorne had brought it in himself around lunchtime with another tray of food. I’d lounged all day, biding my time with him as patiently as I could. There was a path back to Requiem here. I was certain. But if I rushed it, I’d risk losing it and I wasn’t willing to do that when so many days had already passed.

I tossed the history book to the side, giving up on the boring accounts of lineage, opting instead to study the little gold book. Hesitant fingers traced the etched designs on its cover, the gold cool to the touch. I liked pretty things, but I loved valuable things. Anything coated in gold would likely save me from starving. That was the only security I chased in my life.

I unhinged the tiny clasp and opened it, surprised to see writing on the page I knew to be blank this morning.

Where are you from, Paesha darling?

I’d never seen him write in the book. In fact, I was confident he'd never opened it. There was something almost overwhelming about the urge to answer him and defile the old, delicate pages of his little book. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Not until a second line of words appeared below the first.

Cat got your tongue?

With a gasp, I jerked back and dropped the book on the floor. What the hell kind of magic was that?