Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Acup touches my lips. “Drink.”
It could be poisoned or drugged. But I’m already chained and helpless, so what difference does it make?
I drink.
It’s just plain water, cool and clean. It helps clear the last fog from my head.
“Thank you,” I say, and hate myself for the politeness. The bastard had his hand wrapped around my cock minutes ago and jerked me off until I came.
“You’re welcome.” He sets the cup aside with a gentle clink. “Now. Let’s try again. Who sent you?”
“I can’t say.” I pull against the chains reflexively, testing them again.
He goes quiet. I sense his eyes on me, measuring every breath I take. Cold air brushes across my bare skin. I try not to think about the humiliating position I’m in, chest bare from where he tore my suit open, breeches hanging loose on my hips. Every inch of me feels on display.
“You said my life isn’t in danger from you.” His tone turns thoughtful. “So what kind of contract involves following someone for days without making contact?”
I hesitate. There’s no real harm in this admission. “I was telling you the truth. I’m here to protect you.”
“Protect?” He actually sounds surprised. The word cuts off like he can’t quite believe it. “Someone hired the guild to protect me? That’s... unexpected. And insulting, honestly. I’ve won seventeen Tavas tournaments. I command the Valorian. I don’t need protection.”
“Clearly you do, given the twelve corpses in that alley.” My throat is dry again.
“I handled them fine without you,” he dismisses.
My shoulders scream in protest as I shift weight. “I could help.”
“You would just get in my way.” He sounds almost insulted by the suggestion. “Besides, you’re hardly in peak condition yourself.”
The chains rattle as I tense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your knee is damaged,” he states plainly. “Old injury, but you’ve aggravated it recently. Running across rooftops for three days probably didn’t help.”
My jaw tightens. “I manage.”
“It’s affecting your balance.” His footsteps circle again. I’m getting used to tracking him by sound alone. “That’s how I spotted you on day one. You landed wrong coming off that bakery roof.”
Great. My incompetence is that obvious.
Silence stretches between us. He moves again and I hear liquid pouring. Water, from the sound of it hitting ceramic.
“Here.” He’s close now. Something cool nudges my bottom lip again.
I swallow in quick gulps. Each swallow is loud in the quiet. This fucker knows something. The silence between us feels dangerous.
“So, we have a puzzle,” he says, settling back into his chair with a creak of wood. “Someone cares enough about my well-being to hire guild protection, expensive guild protection, but doesn’t want me to know about it. That limits the suspects considerably.”
My stomach tightens. This bastard is too smart. He’s going to figure it out.
“The Wiolants would rather see me dead. The Council members likewise. The Aeonians think I’m a nuisance.” He’s ticking through options like he’s solving a tactical problem. “Which leaves...”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Family,” he concludes. “But Mother would tell me directly. She’s never been one for subtlety. Which means...”
I hear him stand again, sudden energy in his movement. The chair scrapes against stone.
“My father hired you.”
I keep myself still, but he must sense something because he laughs. The sound is more bitter than amused.
“Of course he did. My father can’t have his only remaining heir dying before providing grandchildren. He has to meddle in everything, even when I’ve told him a thousand times I don’t need—“ He cuts himself off and takes a breath. “How much is he paying the guild?”
I say nothing.
The chains rattle as I shift, trying to ease the fire in my shoulders. The position is excruciating now. My arms have gone numb past the elbows.
The quiet drags on for several heartbeats. Then his fingers are at the blindfold, untying it with surprising gentleness. The silk loosens and falls away.
Light floods in, making me squint against the sudden brightness.
We’re in what looks like a private study. Books everywhere, floor to ceiling on three walls. Weapons mounted on the fourth, swords, daggers, and a long spear. His desk is covered in papers and maps—and of course.
Him.
Standing too close. Those emerald eyes study me intensely. It makes me want to look away. Shame burns hotter knowing how I must look. Leather torn apart. Breeches unlaced and low on my hips.
Garrett’s not wearing his armor anymore. He is in simple clothes, a loose white shirt with the laces undone at the throat and dark breeches. His blonde hair is mussed, falling into his eyes. Without the armor and cape, he looks less like a commander and more like... just a person.
He’s beautiful in the otherworldly way most full-blooded elves are but there’s something rougher around the edges.
“What’s your name?” he asks. “Your real name, not whatever the guild calls you.”
“Wolf is all I have.”
“No family name? No clan?”
I hesitate. “The Sylverin clan.”
His eyebrows rise. “Sylverin. I know that name. Northern werewolf clan, decimated about fifty years ago in a territorial dispute. I thought there were no survivors.”
Fuck. Too much information.
“There weren’t,” I say flatly. “I wasn’t there.”
“Can you shift?” he asks. The question comes lighter than the others.
“No,” I say.
His eyes narrow. “Interesting. A wolf who can’t shift.”
I don’t want to talk about this.
I pull against the chains. “Release me.”
“No,” he says simply. “Why would I when you can do it yourself?”
Ice floods through my veins.
He knew?
“The chains aren’t difficult for someone with your training. You could have freed yourself in under a minute.” The certainty in his voice is damning.
My face burns hotter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His mouth curves into a smile. “Guild-trained assassins learn to pick locks before they learn to kill. Those chains? Child’s play for someone like you.”
Fuck.
“You knew,” I say. This fucker knew the entire time.
“I was curious how long you’d pretend.” He’s enjoying this. “You could have run when you woke up. So why didn’t you?”
I want to die. Right here. Humiliation burns through me like fire.
But I keep my face neutral. “I was disoriented. You hit me pretty hard.”
He quirks an eyebrow.
“I didn’t want to scare you,” I try.
“No?” He watches my reaction. “So it had nothing to do with the fact that you enjoyed what I did to you?”
Now I want to sink into the floor and cease existing. I can’t look at him. I can’t meet his eyes.
But the longer I stay this way the more awkward it gets. I jerk my hands away from the chains. My wrists come free easily. The lock mechanism was simple. Basic pin tumbler.
Yeah, I could have done it blind with my hands tied behind my back. Have done it, actually, multiple times during guild training. I did stay chained on purpose…
The chains pool at my feet with a metallic clatter.
Suddenly, my legs give out. Everything tilts and I’m falling.
Garrett catches me before I hit the ground.
He is surprisingly strong for someone so lean.
For a moment I’m pressed against him. His arms wrap around me and the rich scent of sandalwood fills my nose.
“Easy,” he murmurs, helping me to a chair. “Let the blood flow back.”
My arms are numb. Pain floods back in waves as circulation returns. I flex my fingers, trying to speed the process. Pins and needles shoot down to my fingertips.
I shove at his chest and push myself out of his grip.
He watches me struggle for a moment. Then he crosses to a cabinet, retrieves a bottle and two glasses and pours amber liquid into both.
“Here.” He presses a glass into my shaking hand. “Drink. It’ll help.”
“What is it?”
“Fae wine.” He raises his own glass. “To unexpected houseguests.”
I take in the room while he drinks. Dark wood shelves line the walls, crowded with books and maps. We’re in his private chambers inside Elvarstyne Keep.
I drink slowly. The ale burns going down, but he’s right. It helps. The warmth spreads through my chest, easing some of the tension.
“The chains were necessary,” he says after a moment. “But I am sorry about that.”
I drag my thumb over one wrist then the other. “I’ve had worse.”
“I’m sure you have.” His eyes track over me, assessing. The iron has cut into my skin, leaving raw rings around both wrists. A crease forms between his brows as he looks at the damage.
Gods, I hate that look.
I see pity in his eyes and it makes me want to snarl.
Garrett sets his glass down and moves to another cabinet. He returns with bandages and a jar of something that smells faintly of spearmint. “Let me see.”
“I’m fine.”
“Wolf.” He kneels in front of my chair. “Let me see.”
Something twists low in my stomach at the sight of him kneeling there. The position puts him too close. I immediately want distance.
“Give me your hand,” he requests.
The thought of him touching me again makes my pulse jump. My wrists stay tucked close to my stomach.
Garrett waits a beat. “I won’t hurt you.”
For a second I consider refusing outright. But medications are expensive and hard to come by. Slowly, I extend my hands, hating how they still tremble.
He takes my right wrist gently, examining the damage. The sharp scent of healing salve fills the air as he opens the jar. His thumb brushes the inside of my wrist.
“This will sting,” he warns.
It does. I don’t flinch.
He works in silence, applying the salve to my wrists before wrapping them. I track every movement warily and study the top of his bent head while he works. The whole thing feels like a trick.
“There.” Garrett smooths the final layer of bandage into place. “Does that feel better?”
Is he fucking with me?
This bastard had me in chains an hour ago and wrapped his hand around my cock. Now he’s playing nursemaid. The sudden shift gives me whiplash.
I nod to his question and flex my fingers again, noting where my weapons should be. He notices.