30. Chapter Thirty Siyala #3
“Of course,” I murmur, fingers flexing against a callous. Had he gotten that from his sword? How had the years he’d been in the guard shaped this man? Beyond the physical…
Lifting my hand up to the rocky ceiling above me, I let the cool stone draw me out of my own head.
Breathing deeply, I note that strange ancient scent again.
Dust and old water mixing with something other.
The flame flickers, and despite my attempts to keep myself in the present, I manage to trip over my own two feet.
Xander’s hand closes more tightly around my own as he spins his body halfway towards me so that my shoulder crashes into the hard planes of his chest.
Looking up at him, blood rushes past my ears when our gazes connect.
My fox purrs within me, the sensation so startling that my eyes widen in surprise.
It draws an amused look from Xander, the reckoning he threatened earlier still present even though his gaze is softer.
A handful of breaths pass like this, frozen in this strange tunnel, the air between us warm.
“Do you have your bearings?”
Pushing myself away, I assure him that I’m fine a little too aggressively.
He doesn’t say anything in response, but the faster beat of his heart tells me that, perhaps, he isn’t as unaffected as he appears.
Readjusting his hold on my hand, he turns, and we continue, each step bringing us towards a precipice I don’t know that I am ready for.
Trusted. Alexi. Rhea. He had lied. “I will kill him.” An uneasy breath flutters past my lips.
“Almost there.”
I nod, despite the fact that he can’t see me. The flame highlights the end of the tunnel, and then Xander is pressing on the door, opening to reveal the torture room. Quietly, we enter, Xander placing a finger to his lips as he listens for sounds coming from the dungeon itself.
“We’re good,” he says, gesturing for me to walk in front of him. Right, because we are going back to the cell. Trusted. Alexi. Rhea. Immie.
My steps are soft because of the socks, the whisper of noise in direct contrast with his booted steps.
I glance down the hall in Immie’s direction, and for the quickest second, I wonder if I can pull my magic up fast enough to shift and dart away.
But, in answer, my power merely flickers, slumbering wherever it is within me.
And I can’t leave her here. No, my only chance is to get that key from Xander, lock him in here, and then Immie and I can escape through the tunnels.
I walk into the cell and turn to see him stopped just on the other side of the door, his hand already reaching for the keyring.
Shit, I need him inside. Glancing around me, I see the pile of torn clothing and sprint towards it.
“Wait, will you take these?” My voice shakes, and I clear my throat in the hope that he doesn’t notice. “They are torn from my shift.”
Xander holds his hands out, but his feet stay rooted in place just outside the cell.
I pretend to fumble them, as if four articles of clothing—two of which consist of undergarments—are somehow difficult to gather.
This isn’t going to work. He’s going to lock me in this cell again, and the opportunity will be lost. Quickened breaths rock my chest. When would he plan to take me back to that hidden room?
In a week? Month? Did Immie have that much time before she was tortured again?
No. No, this needs to happen now. I turn my head to call out to him again over my shoulder as I lazily gather the clothes, but then his scent hits me, and his warmth is at my back, and suddenly, I’m stiff, my muscles freezing. Trusted. Alexi. Rhea. Immie.
“Here.” Taking the clothing from me in a quick motion, he piles them in his arms as I helplessly watch.
Do something, Siyala. I lay my fingers on his forearm, feeling the corded muscle there flex beneath my touch. I let my gaze travel gradually up his chest and past his neck, lingering on his lips before finally forcing it to his eyes. Trusted. Alexi. Rhe—
“Bella.” He says the word like a plea, and it pierces directly into my heart.
“That isn’t my name,” I rasp, pressing up onto my toes, balancing my weight with my grasp on his forearm.
He grows preternaturally still, and my magic slithers along my spine, warming me from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head.
Xander leans his head down, close enough that I can see the thick lashes that frame his dark eyes.
Close enough that all that separates our lips is our own faltering abstinence.
“Then tell me what to call you.” His voice carries with it a seduction I’ve never heard before, and it skates across my skin, loosening my tongue before I realize what I’m doing.
Trusted. Alex— Our lips brush, the faintest sensation that causes my breath to catch.
“Tell me,” he whispers. His voice echoes in my mind: “I will kill him.”
“Siyala,” I rasp, the hand not holding his forearm gripping the front of his undershirt. And before I can berate myself for giving him my real name, before I can second-guess anything, I tug him to me and crash my lips to his.