Chapter Twenty-Four
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Ily
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ONE MOMENT, HENRI’S ENTIRE BODY smothered me. The next, he was across the room and slamming the door to the bathroom.
I winced at the bang.
I hugged myself as the tap turned on and water splashed in the sink.
Had he been so disgusted he’d had to wash off my orgasm the very second I’d finished?
Despair blanketed me.
Tears that I really didn’t want to cry stung my eyes. Until I’d been dumped in this horrible place, I never used to cry.
But now, I couldn’t stop.
Wedging my face in my hands, I willed myself to get a grip.
He’d given me a release.
That was all.
He’d been selfless and kind, and it’d felt so unbelievably good.
One of the best of my life and all from a simple grind.
I’d tried to fight it.
I’d told myself I couldn’t come because that would be the worse treason imaginable, but...an orgasm had crashed over me anyway. Delivered without fingers or tongue, a quick impersonal rubbing and it’d broken me in ways I hadn’t expected.
Don’t think about it.
Swiping at my stupid tears, I held my chin high.
Henri was right.
Whatever just happened meant nothing because we were nothing. Tomorrow, once his squadron came, we would go our separate ways. I would never tell anyone what happened in this room, and he would never have to tell his boss that our fragile alliance had strayed over yet another blurry line.
No one has to know.
Not even Peter.
I gritted my teeth and threw myself off the bed.
Definitely not Peter.
If I had to see the other jewels before Henri’s team arrived to save them, then I would take our little bump and grind to the grave. Not because shame coated me, but because Peter would call me stupid and scold me all over again.
The water cut off in the bathroom.
I hurriedly made sure all my tears were gone.
I had a horrible premonition of Henri slipping into Victor’s office to turn off the scrambler, only to be spied, caught, and killed.
Panic settled like an iceberg in my stomach.
What if he left and never came back?
What if he tried and failed?
My heart pitter-pattered. I hated that I couldn’t tell if it was genuine concern over my wellbeing or his. If he died, I would suffer greatly at the hands of other men.
If he dies, I-I’ll never see him again.
Was that a selfish thought or something else?
Something that came with far too much baggage and feeling?
There’s only one logical thing to do.
He wanted me to go back to sleep and stay here.
He’d freed me from lust, so I could rest but...unfortunately for him, it’d done the opposite.
I was clearheaded, focused, and ready for war.
Frowning in the centre of his room, watched by a butchered unicorn and a wardrobe hulking in the corner, I made the choice.
The only choice.
I’m going with him.
Two is always better than one.
My breath hitched.
But if we get caught...
My heart stopped.
They’ll kill us both.
It didn’t matter I believed in reincarnation and karma. It didn’t matter that I’d touched parts of my immortality when deep, deep in a meditation. I trusted that this life was nothing more than temporary, illusionary, and as unsubstantial as a dream.
But...just because I believed we were more than this, didn’t mean I was ready to wake up yet. I wanted to stay. To see Krish again. To grow old. Learn life lessons. Be a good sister, daughter, and one day wife.
I don’t want to die.
Balling my hands, I gritted my teeth.
But...isn’t a clean death better than being tortured slowly?
Five years, Peter had endured.
Five years of this purgatory.
Kirk and Corine, Dane and Toby...they were forgotten by everyone but not by me.
I moved before fear could find me.
Dashing to the wardrobe, I wrenched open the heavy carved door and stared at the many coat hangers and shelves holding simple men’s wear. The top shelf housed size S clothes, followed by M for medium and L for large.
It seemed Victor had thought of everything for his guests, including a wardrobe to fit everyone.
Snatching up a medium black t-shirt, I slipped it over my pointless negligee, grateful it hung like a short dress.
The thick cuffs on my wrists snagged as I shoved my arms through, reminding me all over again that if Henri failed, I would rather be dead because I didn’t have the strength to survive what would happen.
The bathroom door swung open.
Henri marched out.
His muscular bare chest now covered in a black t-shirt, his hand rubbing his crotch with a fluffy white towel. He slammed to a stop as he looked up. The large wet patch on his trousers hinted he’d tried to wash away my desire.
Prickles darted down my back.
Shame followed quickly.
Did he find me that unattractive?
He’d said he would enjoy hurting me. He’d confessed that the darkness within him would like demeaning and punishing me, yet he hadn’t said anything about actually liking me.
Apparently, making me come truly was just a kindness, just like feeding me had been. He’d ordered room service and let me stuff my face for one reason only—to give me strength to keep pretending by his side.
The urge to apologise clung to the tip of my tongue.
I’d eaten all the food and used him to come.
I wanted to promise he would never have to do something like that again because this was almost over. I hated that he felt used. That he’d done things today that he would never ordinarily do, all in order to help others.
He might use me as a confessional booth and whispered heinous truths, but I was desperate to learn more.
How long had he been a cop?
Who did he love?
Where would he go after this?
But those questions could never be asked because cameras were watching, and courage was lacking, and I didn’t have the strength to guard my heart against feelings it definitely shouldn’t be feeling.
Sucking in a breath, I raised my chin and prepared to go to battle with him. “I’m coming with you.”
He scowled, his short hair slicked back and grey eyes tight. Tossing the towel onto the grotesque throne in the corner, he shook his head. “You’re staying here.”
Marching to the door, he fisted the handle and wrenched it open. “Lock this after me. Go back to sleep.”
I dashed to his side, grabbed his shoulder, and stood on tiptoes to breathe in his ear. “Let me help you. His office is probably guarded. And if it isn’t, there’ll be cameras just like everywhere else in this hellhole. I-I could be look out or act as a distraction if we get caught.”
He froze.
His fingers curled around the doorknob, his muscles rigid beneath my fingers. “Stop touching me, Ily. I’m aware there could be guards and I’m highly aware of the fucking cameras. But I have to try. And I’ll try alone. Do what I say and go back to bed.”
I did none of those things.
My voice shook with quiet urgency. “How will you explain why you’re roaming the citadel at three in the morning...alone? Wouldn’t it make more sense if I was with you?”
Slowly, he turned to confront me. His handsome face strained with sleepless nights and worry. “I won’t need to explain anything because I won’t be seen.”
“But the cameras—”
“Yes, they’ll record me but the guards might be lazy. By the time anyone thinks to question why I was roaming around in the dark, hopefully our ride will be here and this will be over. It won’t matter if I’m seen because we’ll be gone.”
Fear percolated in my chest. “It’s too risky. Take me with you. Together...remember?”
His eyes snapped closed.
He swallowed a groan.
The tension in his muscles turned to stone.
But...he didn’t say no again, and I didn’t give him a chance to. “Having a jewel, meek and submissive beside you, is the perfect cover. You’re merely looking for a place to play with me. You got lost and—”
“A place to play with you?” His eyes snapped open. Fury glowed silver in his stare. “Do you hear yourself?”
“I’m merely following our script.”
“And driving me mad at the same time.”
I dropped my hand and sighed. “I’d rather you have to hurt me than be hurt yourself. This is bigger than us. It’s about them—all those bleeding, brutalized slaves—and...I can’t let them down. You can’t let them down.”
Slowly, his shoulders slouched.
His eyes latched onto mine.
Unlike the torn-apart openness of before as he rode me, the shadows over his soul closed ranks, blocking me out. “It’s dangerous.”
I shrugged. “I know.”
Chewing on his bottom lip, he tapped his pocket where he’d put his knife. “If I don’t succeed, you’ll pay the same price I will.”
I held his stare. I repeated two words that turned into a vow. “I know.”
His nostrils flared. He didn’t move.
Finally, he nodded and opened the door with a harsh yank. “So be it.” Slipping into the darkness, he somehow became part of the night. “Follow me.”
I stepped after him, cursing fresh trembles down my legs.
The moment we left the sanctity of his room, I second-guessed everything.
The castle swallowed us whole.
Oppressive and chilly, watchful and sly.
I’d never really had a reason to be stealthy before. I’d never crept up on my brother or played hide-and-seek, yet as I followed Henri down shadowy stone corridors, I suddenly wished I had. I wished I knew how to mute my footsteps. Wished I knew how to use the night to become invisible.
Hissing as low as he could, he muttered, “Walk behind me, head down, hands by your sides.” His eyes scanned the t-shirt I’d pilfered. “I should probably take that off you but...ah, well. We’ll deal with that later.”
Our gazes held.
I had the feeling he wanted to say something else, lots of ‘else’, but he merely pinched the bridge of his nose, cleared his throat, then snapped his fingers. “Come.”
I fell into step with him as we moved through his floor and toward the curved staircases in the heart of the castle.
Carved steps loomed out of the darkness. Candelabras flickered with electrical warmth, mimicking candle fire without the mess of dripping wax and threat of flame-wrought disasters.
Henri paused on the first step, his eyes narrowed. His head tipped to the side as if listening for footsteps.
I stopped breathing, waiting.
My senses prickled, but I only felt stone and rock, not bone and blood.