19. AURORA
The best thing about Quo was being locked away from Thomas Crankshawe and anyone to do with him.
And now his fucking son is staring at me through the bars, a stupid smile spread across his face as he asks me if I slept well.
No, I didn’t sleep well. Asshole. Just as I was getting comfortable with being in a prison, and nightly locked in a cage by Taliesin, everything goes off the fucking rails.
Thanks to the nightmare which is Francois de Vaux.
I want to scream and scream and scream, instead I stare at the wall and imagine stabbing him just like I stabbed his father.
“Has your hearing been affected, ma petite? Maybe an infection from the mold? I asked if you were well rested.”
I wish his eyes were infected with mold. Spores populating in his pupils until he just can’t see anymore.
The way he stares is too intense. At Elite functions, or Drakeward dinner parties. He was always watching me.
By his father’s side.
And what’s fucking annoying, is if I watch him back, I can’t deny how physically attractive he is. I hate his face. I hate the olive-toned symmetry of it and the way his dark, light-drinking eyes seem to know every secret I’m trying to bury.
He’s beautiful in the way a volcano is beautiful—magnificent, mysterious, until it burns the life out of you. He’s physically perfect, from the curve of his lips and high cheekbones to his lithe body, and strong, perfectly manicured hands.
The complete opposite of Taliesin, who looks permanently crumpled and worn. Premature lines on his brow, and scars all over his body.
“Chérie?”
I use my normal tactic. I don’t acknowledge him.
Francois who?
Swinging my legs around, I place my feet on the floor and curse the fact my prison-issued briefs and bra display too much skin. To stop Francois perving out on my body, I dress at top speed.
Ugh. I can still feel Francois’s eyes on me.
Without looking around, I flip him the bird, then take my own sheet and tie it to the bars. Privacy feels even more important with him just…there.
Looking.
And I’m going to have to fucking pee, there’s no two ways about it. I can only hope Francois’s sensibilities are so disgusted, he’ll fuck off and leave me alone.
Or report back to his father that I’ve gone feral and there’s no hope for me. That could work.
I wash using the faucet set in the top of the toilet tank, then scrape a toothbrush around my mouth. The other end is sharpened into the kind of point that could shank a kidney.
Francois’s—if he gets close enough.
Taliesin moans. He’s still out cold on the hard concrete floor.
I’d tucked the privacy sheet under his head last night, but that was the best I could do to improve his situation. It’s not like I’m able to lift his bulky ass onto the cot.
Fuck.
I need a cup to get some water into him. Choices are minimal, so after a beat, I improvise.
I wriggle out of my bra, zip the coveralls back up, then soak the sweaty, stained cotton under the feeble trickles of the water spigot.
“Here you go.” He grunts as water runs over his parched lips.
“Easy, hold your horses,” I tell him, soaking the cloth again.
This time I get my arm under Taliesin’s neck, not easy, and squeeze the fabric directly into his mouth.
“You are so domesticated these days, Aurora, altruistic.”
Again, I ignore Francois.
“Open your eyes, Tally.”
He groans again, and I wipe the cloth over his bruised face. “Seriously, things are really fucked up. I need you to be alright.”
Finally, Taliesin’s eyelids flicker open, the first real sign of life since the fight with Francois.
“Hey.” I smile down on him, but it seems like he can’t focus.
A few seconds later, he’s out again. Fuck.
Not knowing what else to do, I tuck the sheet more comfortably under his head then sit back on my heels. I’ve never had to care for someone before, so nurse-Rory is new territory. In my world, if one has a headache or a fever, healers arrive at your bedside before you even break a bead of sweat.
“What is between you and that man?” Francois sighs. “I can feel your concern. How did he earn your favor?”
Interesting. He seems bothered.
Standing up, I lean back against the wall, and finally look at my nemesis. “He saved me from…from being raped more than once. I’m indebted to him.”
Francois is sitting, legs crossed on a sturdy new chair that Danny had somehow got hold of. My words make him freeze.
“Raped? You were attacked?” The words come out in a hiss.
“Yes, but I’m alright, and it’s because of him.”
“That is a debt," Francois says, like the word is foreign to him.
“Perhaps, but it’s nothing to do with you,” I sneer. “It’s mine to repay.”
His face hardens and eyes narrow. “I wasn’t aware Drakewards paid attention to what they owe. I wonder what you offer up as remuneration." His jaw is tight and a pulse throbs at his temple.
Did he just hint what I thought he hinted? Asshole.
“What I give anyone is none of your concern.” I scowl at him, letting him see my contempt.
Francois gives a huff, which almost sounds like frustration. “Why waste your time on him? He’s hardly in a position to remain your sainted savior.”
If my connection with Tally is annoying de Vaux, I’m going to play it up.
“Taliesin is a better man than you’ll ever be," I say, pushing myself toward the bars, meeting his gaze. “He’s thoroughly good and uses his power to protect people, not to fulfill his own wants and desires. I don’t expect you to understand that.” I raise my chin and wait for his comeback.
Francois also stands. “Good men are weak. If he wasn’t so weak, perhaps he’d still be able to fight for you.”
I can’t stop the laugh that erupts from me, almost hysterical.
“Good men are weak? Tell me, Francois. Do you actually know a single good person? You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.
In fact, I pity you. Must suck to have your dad as your ultimate role model.
You’ll never know anything real, because everything in your world is tied up with power and money. ”
“That’s your world, too,” he snarls, taking a step closer. “A few weeks in purgatory doesn’t wipe that away.”
Oh, this ass just gets funnier and funnier. “Francois, don’t you understand? We’ve been in hell all our lives. At least here it’s an honest kind of nightmare.” I’m suddenly aware of Taliesin shifting and groaning behind me.
He looks and sounds like he’s in fucking agony.
It’s not natural.
“And why is Tally so fucked up? What did you do to him?”
Francois takes a beat to move back to his chair and regain his annoying composure. “He is lucky. Most people who take a strike from me wouldn’t wake at all. The fact that he’s breathing is a testament to his… stubbornness.”
The arrogance of this man is off the charts. “I very much doubt that. He’s strong. You got lucky.”
Francois looks at me. I expect a taunt, or a refusal, but instead, he lets out a soft sigh. “No. That is not true.”
“Whatever.” I flap my hand. “Why don’t you use your newfound powers to get a cup so I can give him some water? And a couple of pillows while you’re at it?”
“Aurora Drakeward as Florence Nightingale. You are always a surprise.”
Surprise. Right.
He has no idea. If I were as fragile as he thinks, I would have dissolved into the concrete weeks ago. Looking at him, immaculate even in this dump, makes my skin itch. He’s like a visual reminder of everything I hate about my old life.
He turns, giving his fingers an entitled snap. A moment later, Danny’s greasy face pokes into the room.
“Boss? You called?”
“I require several things. Food, coffee, and a pitcher of clean water and cup, not the revolting recycled filth that runs out of these cisterns. Oh, and two pillows and another sheet—and for the Gods’ sake, a hairbrush for Aurora.”
Danny casts a glance at me, and I see the panic written all over his face. Yeah, good luck getting that list fulfilled, you shitbag. You can’t exactly order room service in the Digger block.
“Er, Boss, that’s quite, er, a tall order. Like, hard to come by stuff. I’ll need something to trade.”
Francois’s eyebrow raises. He looks bored, but there’s a stillness to him that tells me Danny is about three seconds away from a very bad day.
“And why is that my problem?” Francois steps forward and flicks Danny on the forehead. He yelps and stumbles back against the doorframe.
“Run along now,” Francois says softly. “And don’t disappoint me.”
Danny scuttles away, off to ruin someone else’s morning just to save his own skin.
Francois turns to me, looking smug. “You see? I’ve been here half a day and already I have improved your standard of living. You can be assured this is just the beginning of the adjustments I will make.”
“You realize he’ll probably go and steal or fight someone smaller than him to take their stuff for trading?”
Francois shrugs, because of course he doesn’t care about that. “I am the Bossman now. My wishes will be accommodated, I care not how it happens.”
Arrogant asshole douche bastard twat.
I want to scream it at him, but I don’t. Words are just noise to a guy like him. If I want to hurt him, I’ll have to use the only thing he seems to value: me.
I crouch down, making sure Francois has a front-row seat to the show, and stroke the back of Tally’s hand, my fingers lingering on his scarred knuckles.
His hand twitches in response—just a tiny movement of his index finger against my palm. “Come back to me, baby,” I murmur, putting loving devotion, which is not 100% fake, into my tone. “I need you so badly.”
Glancing up, I see Francois gritting his teeth.
Ha. Score one for the cage dwellers.
Leaning over, I press my lips to Tally’s forehead. His skin is hot, radiating a fever. “Wake up soon, my love.”
Francois spins on his heel, his shadow sweeping over us as he disappears out of the cell.
Wump—ppp. Wump—ppp.
Game to me.
But playing psychological chicken with Thomas Crankshawe’s son, while my protector is half-dead on the floor, is not going to be easy. How many more sets are there before the match is won?
Because right now, it feels like the real nightmare is only just beginning.