CHAPTER THREE #4
But the second the words left my mouth, there was a knock on the door, powerful and insistent.
Brennan stepped away from me, his eyes widening, redness creeping up his pale neck. The spell between us was broken.
I glared. Who the fuck would dare—
“It’s me! Kienan!”
“Kienan? What’s happened?” Brennan called out.
The door swung open, and Kienan stumbled inside, looking cautiously between me and Brennan, his black curls disheveled. “Not interrupting, am I?”
“Yes, you are,” I said, just as Brennan said, “No, of course not.”
Kienan rolled his eyes. “Well either way, I’m sorry, Your—I mean, My—”
Brennan’s jaw tightened, a warning look in his eyes.
Kienan groaned and shook his head. “We need to leave now. I spotted some…friends downstairs who I doubt you would wish to run into.”
Brennan’s eyebrows drew together. “Friends?”
“Friends who know your face well,” Kienan said, urgently, his hand on his sword.
Soldiers from the castle then. Soldiers who ranked high enough to know exactly Brennan’s status.
He nodded at Kienan and cleared his throat. “Of course, I’ll be right out.”
Kienan seemed like he was about to bow but then grimaced and retreated from the doorway back into the hall.
Brennan stepped toward me again. “I must take my leave.”
“So I heard,” I said, ignoring the sting of disappointment rushing through me.
“I’m sorry to do so.”
I smiled and bit my lip. “I’m only sorry the night ended so soon.”
“So am I. It was a pleasure meeting you.” His jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring like he was at war with himself, with the part of him ready to tell Kienan to fuck off so he could stay.
But as usual, as I was coming to see with Brennan, the gallant, noble part of him won out, and he relaxed his face, looking suddenly resigned.
“It was my honor to meet you,” I said. And I meant it. He’d been nothing that I expected. He’d been pleasant, intelligent, kind—someone I could actually see myself caring for. Falling in love with—no.
I needed to banish that thought immediately. He was House Lafir. He was related to Jaron, to Tirian. They were evil, hurting my people, hurting me. No. I would not go down that road again.
At least, I’d gotten his money. It was good—but it wasn’t safe out there, and money alone wouldn’t save me. I needed more power, more magic so I could leave. I contemplated going back downstairs, finding someone else to fuck and drain until my magic was at its fullest.
Then I could help Cecelia, Finlay, and Thomas. And I could make sure that when I left here, I could avoid being caught. Avoid finding myself in a box.
But the thought of any other man touching me, kissing me, Gods, even looking at me, was nauseating.
Brennan had filled all my senses, my imagination, my desire. Especially right then, when he was still standing so close.
So, so close. He wasn’t leaving. Wasn’t backing away. I blinked in confusion.
“Brennan?”
“Samara, I—I know I shouldn't ask this of you. I shouldn’t even be here—but, Gods, forgive me. May I—?” he started, and shook his head, like he’d changed his mind. Then, taking a deep breath, he set his jaw. “May I come see you again? Tomorrow night?”
My heart thudded. Tomorrow night.
This was exactly what Geoffrey had wanted me to do. Have him return. Pay again for my company.
It felt almost identical to what Jaron had done.
But this time would be different. It had to be. I was smarter. And my heart was hardened. I knew what I had to do. I had to survive. I would break him.
It was just going to take a little extra time. A little more work and manipulation. After all, he was thoughtful, honorable, and loyal. And unlike most men, he truly wanted to uphold his own values. He wanted to live them, not just say he was a good person. He wanted to actually be one.
But I knew one thing. Every man had a breaking point. Even men like Brennan. And when he returned, I would find it.
Then I’d make my escape.
“You—you don’t have to say yes,” Brennan said when I didn’t respond.
“You’re under no obligation to me. I mean that.
And if it will cause any problems,” his jaw clenched, “any at all, with anyone downstairs, then please, tell me to go. Tell me to leave you alone. And I will. But if you, if you want me to—”
“I want you to,” I said. “I’ll be counting down the hours until you return.”
“So will I.” He exhaled sharply, his neck flushing. “Tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow,” I said.
His eyes were hooded and full of longing and desire, the shadow of our almost kiss still holding weight between us.
“Samara. Be safe, and be well.” He bowed, and then he was gone, leaving me leaning back against the wall, my heart racing.
Pounding. Because I’d said yes as Samara the whore, Samara the dancer, Samara the Azete who was ready to feed and devour.
But there was another part of me that truly wanted him to come back, that wanted just to see him again. The part of me that was most dangerous to myself.
Samara the woman. The me that existed beneath this face and body, the me who, despite all I’d been through, all the ways I’d been hurt, was still apparently capable of falling in love.