Chapter 17 Ronan
RONAN
Dawn breaks gray and cold, filtering through the barred window to illuminate our tangled forms on the straw-covered floor. Corrina sleeps curled against my side, dark hair spilling across my chest like silk, and the sight of her sends conflicting emotions warring through my gut.
Fury. Regret. A hunger so sharp it takes my breath away.
What the hell was I thinking?
I ease away from her carefully, not wanting to wake her, and settle against the far wall to brood. My body still carries the memory of her touch, the taste of her mouth, the soft sounds she made. No. I won't think about that.
Last night was a moment of weakness, nothing more. A lapse in judgment brought on by too many days of forced proximity and the intoxicating scent of jasmine and danger that surrounds her like armor.
She's Valdris's pet. His favorite toy. Getting involved with her is suicide—for both of us.
But even as I tell myself these things, my eyes drift back to where she sleeps. The way morning light catches the gold in her hair. The peaceful expression that makes her look younger, less guarded.
Beautiful.
The thought slaps me like a blow because it's not about her body, though that's magnificent enough to drive men to madness.
It's about the fire in her green eyes, the sharp intelligence she hides behind silk and submission, the stubborn courage that keeps her fighting even when she claims she's given up.
I want her. Not just her body, though I crave that with an intensity that terrifies me. I want all of her—the venom and the vulnerability, the strength and the softness she tries so hard to hide.
And that makes me the biggest fool in this cursed place.
The guards come earlier than usual, their voices carrying through the stone corridors long before they reach our cell. I'm already on my feet when they appear, positioning myself between them and Corrina's sleeping form.
"Morning, beast," Thane says with his usual sneer. "Sleep well?"
"Well enough."
"I'll bet you did." His eyes drift to where Corrina is stirring, alerted by our voices. "Cozy accommodations you've got there."
Something dangerous stirs in my chest, but I keep my expression neutral. "Is there a reason for this visit?"
"Exhibition today. All gladiators to the preparation chambers."
"All gladiators?"
Korven chuckles, and the sound makes my skin crawl. "Don't worry, beast. Your little pet comes too. Master's orders."
The casual dismissal of her humanity ignites my temper, but I force myself to remain still. Reacting will only make things worse for both of us.
"I see."
"Do you?" Thane steps closer to the bars, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Because from where I stand, it looks like you've been sampling the merchandise."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Course you don't. Just like you don't know why she smells like you this morning."
Heat flares in my face, but I don't rise to the bait. Behind me, I hear Corrina getting to her feet, silk rustling as she arranges her rumpled dress.
"Gentlemen," she says with perfect poise, as if she hadn't spent the night writhing beneath my hands. "How lovely to see you."
"Lady Corrina." Korven's mockery of courtesy makes me want to break his neck. "Ready for today's entertainment?"
"Always."
But I catch the slight tremor in her voice, the way her hands are shaking before she clasps them behind her back. Whatever's planned for today, it's not routine.
They separate us in the corridors—Corrina escorted one direction while guards march me toward the familiar preparation chambers. But her scent lingers on my skin, and the memory of her soft gasps echoes in my ears.
Focus, I tell myself. Whatever game Valdris is playing today, I need to be ready.
The preparation chamber buzzes with unusual activity. More gladiators than I've ever seen gathered in one place, their faces grim with anticipation. Something big is happening.
"Ronan." The voice makes me turn, and I find myself face-to-face with a scarred orc named Grimjaw. "Heard you've been getting special treatment."
"Have you?"
"Sharing cells with harem girls. Must be nice, having something warm to hold at night."
The casual crudeness makes my hands become fists. "Careful."
"Just making conversation." But his yellow eyes gleam with malicious amusement. "Though I suppose after years in Valdris's bed, she knows all the right tricks."
"Say another word about her and I'll tear your throat out."
"Touchy, aren't we?" He grins, revealing filed teeth. "Don't worry, beast. When you're dead, I'll make sure she's properly... comforted."
Red rage floods my vision, but before I can move, guards separate us, shoving us toward different areas of the chamber. Just as well. Killing him now would serve no purpose except satisfying my fury.
But the promise is made. Touch her, even look at her wrong, and I'll paint these walls with his blood.
That evening, when they return us to our shared cell, Corrina approaches with careful steps. There's something different about her—a softness I haven't seen before, vulnerability wrapped in silk and uncertainty.
"You're bleeding," she observes, noting the fresh cuts from today's training exercises.
"It'll heal."
"Let me—"
"I'm fine."
But she ignores my protests, producing torn strips of silk from somewhere in her dress. Her touch is gentle as she cleans and binds my wounds, fingers careful against damaged skin.
"There," she murmurs when she's finished. "Better."
"Thank you."
The simple courtesy seems to surprise her. She looks up, green eyes searching my face for something I'm not sure I want her to find.
"Ronan..."
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Whatever you're about to say. Don't say it."
Because I can see the softness growing in her eyes, the dangerous emotion that will get us both killed if Valdris suspects even a fraction of what passed between us.
"I wasn't going to say anything important."
"Good. Keep it that way."
But her small smile suggests she sees right through my walls, and that terrifies me more than any arena opponent.
The relative peace doesn't last. Heavy footsteps echo in the corridor outside, more guards than usual, and when our cell door opens, Thane's face carries unusual satisfaction.
"All gladiators to the arena," he announces. "Special exhibition."
"What kind of exhibition?"
"The kind that draws big crowds and bigger purses." His eyes shift to Corrina with predatory interest. "And you, pet. Master wants you there too."
Something cold settles in my stomach. "She's not a gladiator."
"No, but she's entertainment. And today, Master Valdris wants all his prizes on display."
"I won't let you—"
"Let us?" Korven laughs harshly. "You seem to forget your place, beast. You don't let us do anything. You do what you're told, when you're told, or suffer the consequences."
More guards file into the corridor, crossbows visible and ready. Any resistance would be suicide, and they know it.
"It's alright," Corrina says quietly, though I can see the fear she's trying to hide. "I've been to the arena before."
"Not like this," Thane corrects with obvious relish. "Today's going to be... special."
They chain us both—lighter bonds for her, heavier for me—and march us through stone corridors toward whatever fresh hell Valdris has devised. But as we walk, I catch Corrina's hand in mine for just a moment, squeezing gently.
Whatever comes, we'll face it together.
Even if it kills us both.