Chapter Nine

Raith allowed Harrow to lead him away from Salizar. The bastard was so close, Raith could smell him, practically taste his blood spilling. Vengeance had been within his grasp, and yet he’d allowed Harrow to distract him with her kiss.

But what a kiss it had been.

Her warm flesh beneath his palms, her silver eyes full of desire, her sweet lavender scent swamping his senses… It drew his mind from thoughts of blood and made him wonder why they seemed so important in the first place. Any other priority paled in comparison to tasting Harrow again.

Even now as she hurried ahead of him in the dark, he found it hard to worry about what they were doing or where they were going. He just wanted to pull her against him again and explore her further. Imagining it sent blood rushing down the center of his body, hardening him.

He knew what was happening. Though he had no memory of ever having done this with another, he knew what he wanted.

He wasn’t sure he should want it, however. Not when his past was nothing but a black hole and he couldn’t say for sure that he wasn’t the monster Salizar thought he was.

But Harrow didn’t think he was a monster, he reminded himself. Harrow had sworn he wasn’t, and she believed it so strongly, she was giving up her home to help him—not that he wanted her to. Why shouldn’t he believe what she did? She was the only person he’d met whom he felt something for other than cold indifference or a desire to kill.

He glanced at the back of her curly black head, and again he had to fight the urge to pull her against him. He didn’t understand what he felt for her, but whatever it was felt…warm. Safe, yet exhilarating. It was intoxicating, and he wanted more of it.

“This has to be fast,” Malaikah whispered. “We’re way behind schedule, and I’m starting to get nervous.”

“Starting to get nervous?” Harrow breathed a laugh. “I’ve been all the way there for a week.”

Raith dragged his attention back to the present. They were approaching a large caravan with curved sides. An awning extended out from the back with colorful fabrics draped over the sides to serve as walls. A sign hung over them that read, Fortune Teller.

This was Harrow’s home, he realized. A home she was leaving behind for him.

Killing Salizar had been his final solution to stop Harrow from making this mistake. But now that that was off the table, he didn’t know what to do. Aside from climbing right back into his miserable cage and refusing to leave—something he didn’t think he had the strength to do—it seemed his only option was to give in to Harrow’s plan.

Beneath the awning, Raith had to stoop slightly to keep from hitting the canvas. There was a small table, a lounge, and a chair. Three steps led up to the caravan’s door, and the two women quickly passed through. Raith followed them.

The caravan was cramped, especially with three people. He squeezed into the corner beside the door, fearful of knocking something over.

Harrow crouched beside the bed, pulling a heavy leather bag out from beneath. When she straightened, she saw Raith and smiled. “It’s a little small for you in here, isn’t it?”

Malaikah looked too and laughed. “Here, take this ridiculously heavy bag outside while we get the second one. What’d you put in here, Harrow? I thought we agreed that you didn’t need four nightgowns.”

While Harrow defended her packing job, Raith hefted the bag and squeezed through the tiny door, happy to be free of the confined space. Closed walls were not something he enjoyed so soon after getting out of that cage.

Outside, he set the bag down and was just about to return for the second when he sensed a presence nearby. Very near and approaching rapidly. He sniffed, recognizing the scent, and growled low.

Loren.

Either the guard had awoken and alerted the human, or Loren had checked Raith’s cage himself and found it empty. What to do? Perhaps he should duck inside the caravan with Harrow and Malaikah. He could hide in the shadows, and Loren would never know he was there.

But Raith was free now, and he was angry, and hiding was for cowards.

And he wanted blood.

Loren had stood by while Salizar stabbed him with that damned staff countless times and done nothing. He deserved to pay for what he’d done.

Raith curled his hands into fists and faced the entrance to the tent.

Seconds later, the human burst through.

Jerking to a halt, Loren took one look at him and blanched, shrinking back. “Y-you…”

Raith bared his teeth.

To his credit, the human made a valiant attempt to recover his pride, straightening his spine and lifting his chin, though his hands shook. “How’d you get out?”

Raith said nothing.

“Harrow let you out, didn’t she?”

Raith growled. He didn’t like the human speaking Harrow’s name.

“Harrow!” Loren suddenly shouted.

That angered Raith. Harrow didn’t want anyone to discover them, and Loren wasn’t trying to keep his voice down. If they were caught, who knew what Salizar would do to Harrow?

Raith had agreed not to kill Salizar tonight, but he hadn’t agreed not to kill anyone else. Surely Harrow wouldn’t miss this stain?

“Where is she?” the human snapped at Raith, bravado returning full force. “What did you do to her, you son of a bitch? I’ll kill you if you touched her—”

Raith’s hand shot out and snatched the man by his neck, lifting him and then slamming him down hard onto the table.

“I am the son of no one,” Raith snarled in his face. “And you are a worm.”

He lifted his free hand and unsheathed his claws, preparing to strike—

“Raith, no!”

Raith’s head snapped up to see Harrow bursting out of the caravan and leaping down the stairs to grip his arm in her tiny hands and attempt to pull him off the human. Malaikah appeared, saw Loren, and then ducked back inside the caravan with a curse.

Harrow’s strength was minute, and Raith could have resisted her without effort, but he allowed her to draw him away. He wasn’t really sure why. The human sucked in desperate breaths, sliding off the table to the ground and scrambling away from Raith.

Harrow rushed to the man’s side. “Are you okay?”

He wheezed, glaring at Raith with eyes full of hatred—a weakling’s wounded pride.

“Bloody Goddess damn it all to the dark Shades,” Malaikah was muttering repeatedly inside the caravan, too low for regular ears to hear.

“He…speaks.” Loren’s voice was hoarse from being strangled, and he pointed a shaking finger at Raith.

“Of course he speaks,” Harrow snapped.

“You released him? What were you thinking? That thing needs to go back in his cage before he kills someone. He would have killed me!”

“He is not a ‘thing.’ And you probably would’ve deserved it for how you treated him!”

“Don’t blame this on me. He isn’t human and can’t be trusted—”

“Nobody in this damned circus is human besides you! When are you going to understand that?”

Loren jerked out of her grip and lurched to his feet. “I’m sorry, Harrow, but I can’t let you do this.”

And he turned, ducked out of the tent, and sprinted away.

Malaikah cursed foully, poking her head out the door.

“We can’t let him get away.” Harrow’s palms covered her cheeks. “He’ll go straight to Salizar.”

“How did you not sense him coming?” Malaikah hissed at Raith. “You were out here the whole time!”

Raith realized his mistake. He had jeopardized not only Harrow’s safety but Malaikah’s as well. This was his fault and therefore his responsibility.

Decision made, he shot out from beneath the awning in a blur, caught up with Loren in several seconds, and dragged him back by the neck. He tossed the human at Harrow’s feet, awaiting instruction.

She stared at him with an open mouth.

Muttering more curses, Malaikah ducked inside the caravan once more.

The human started to rise again, so Raith flipped him over and pushed him into the dirt with a foot between his shoulder blades.

Harrow dragged her hands down her face.

“Should I kill him?” It seemed the easiest solution.

“No, Raith!” She looked horrified. “You shouldn’t kill him or anyone!”

He frowned. He really didn’t see the issue. Loren was a problem, so why not eliminate him?

“We need to—” She winced. “We need to tie him up so he can’t run to Salizar. We’ll leave him somewhere where someone will find him in the morning.”

“Don’t do this, Harrow,” the human whined from the ground. Raith pressed his foot down harder, fighting the urge to crush his spine and rib cage.

“Should I put him in my cage?”

Harrow’s eyes flicked to his, and he watched in fascination as her ire vanished to be replaced with that soft look she often gave him. It was a look he’d come to crave.

Her gaze hardened again as she looked down at Loren’s struggling form. She glanced back up at Raith and nodded fiercely. “Do it.”

“Harrow, you bitch, don’t you dare!”

Raith growled, claws curling, but he waited for Harrow’s permission to respond to the insult.

She met his gaze with a vicious smile that stirred his blood. “If he’s going to make a fuss, I suppose we’d better gag him.”

Raith hauled Loren up by the shirt, and the human started shouting. “Put me down, you Goddess-damned bastard! Harrow, don’t even th—”

Raith struck him upside the head. At the last second, he pulled back the hit so as not to kill him. Instantly unconscious, the human dangled from Raith’s grip on his shirt.

“Sweet Mother Goddess of the Veil,” Malaikah said from the doorway.

Harrow didn’t miss a beat. “Mal, grab a tea towel and one of my headscarves from inside.”

Malaikah returned moments later to pass the items to Harrow. “Do you think he saw me?”

“He didn’t see you.” Gingerly, Harrow stuffed the tea towel into Loren’s mouth and then tied the scarf around his head to hold it in place. It was a pretty piece of silk, and she tied a neat knot at the back with trembling fingers.

This was not a female accustomed to gagging a prisoner, Raith thought, and he decided that was a good thing.

“Can you carry him back to the cage and shut him in without being seen?” Harrow asked. He nodded, and her eyes narrowed. “Can I trust you not to kill him? And to come right back here afterward without going after Salizar?”

Raith made a face. She was far too clever for her own good. Reluctantly, he nodded.

She stared hard into his eyes. “Promise me you’ll come right back here without killing anyone.”

A vow.

Suddenly, he knew. A vow was enslavement.

He couldn’t break his word once it was given, and though he wasn’t sure what would happen if he tried, he knew it would be something extraordinarily unpleasant. He didn’t know how he knew this, but he just did.

Did Harrow realize how binding such a thing was for him? Likely not. But he was coming to trust her, and he wanted to prove himself for the sole reason that she alone believed in him.

He met her gaze and said, “I vow to return immediately after depositing the human in the cage. I vow not to kill anyone before returning unless they try to kill me first.” He added that last one as a measure of self-protection. Then, to be sure he didn’t bind himself indefinitely, he added, “If I do not return for any reason or if our plans are interrupted, this vow will hold for the remainder of this night, and then I am free of it.”

The binding settled around him like a vise, like a collar around his neck, squeezing the air from his lungs. A prison worse than the one he’d just escaped.

Whatever circumstances arose, he would follow those words unto pain of death—literally.

Because what he felt if he tried to break a vow was worse than dying.

He frowned. How did he know that? Hadn’t he just concluded he didn’t know what would happen?

The questions faded as he noticed Harrow staring at him. “What was that? I felt… When you promised, it felt like—”

“Go,” Malaikah hissed from the caravan door. “We’re running out of time.”

Raith tossed the human over one shoulder and hurried from the tent to fulfill his vow.

…

Once they were alone, Malaikah stood in the doorway of the caravan and gave Harrow “the look.”

Harrow could return it with only one thing: sheepishness.

“Innocent? Pure? Really, Harrow?”

“I know what I sensed.”

“That man is so bloodthirsty, you’d think he lived off the stuff. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

She sighed. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Raith would have killed both Salizar and Loren if you hadn’t stopped him.”

“I know.”

“Harrow, honey, that’s messed up.”

“I know, okay? I know.”

Malaikah sighed too. “The good news is you were able to stop him. He listens to you. All I’m saying is, you’re going to have your hands full.”

Would Raith try to rip the head off anyone who looked twice at him? Was she going to have to be on full-time murder-prevention duty? Goddess, she hoped not.

He returned at that moment, silent and deadly as, well, a wraith.

“It’s done?”

He nodded. After that strange promise he’d made, the air had been buzzing with some kind of power, and he’d looked strangely resentful of her, like she’d forced him into a trap. It wasn’t her intention at all, but she hadn’t been willing to budge without getting his promise. No one was dying tonight if she could help it.

Still, what had that meant? It was yet another mystery to add to the list.

She’d made her own mental vow to help him figure out who he was, but she hadn’t a clue where to start.

…

The rest of the plan went off without a hitch. If Salizar had an enchantment to alert him if the cage was opened, it either didn’t work in time for him to catch them or it was fooled by Malaikah’s lockpick. Whatever the case, the fairgrounds remained quiet as they snuck into the city.

Harrow held tightly to Raith’s hand. He’d donned the cloak she’d purchased for him, but even with the big hood obscuring his face, she could tell he was overwhelmed by the assaulting sights and smells, even in the relative stillness of the night.

Allegra was not a city that ever fully slept, and as they crept through the cobblestone streets between stone buildings, they passed staggering drunks, beggars, weary travelers, and the occasional hooded stranger of unknown intent.

They didn’t bother anyone, and no one bothered them. It was the way of the city.

Malaikah led them through a labyrinth of narrow streets, taking so many different combinations of turns that Harrow quickly lost all sense of direction.

The central city had a few quirks one needed to be aware of when navigating. Rumored to be caused by an excess of magic leaking from the Ether Queen, entire streets were known to disappear from time to time, only to reappear later. Sometimes, a wrong turn would still deliver you to where you wanted to go, and a correct turn would get you lost completely. Though many maps of the city were sold, it seemed no two were exactly alike, nor was anyone capable of giving concise directions.

As such, Harrow was slightly amazed when finally, at the end of another nondescript dark alley, Malaikah motioned them to a stop and said, “We’re here.”

They were standing outside a tavern, marked only by a small swinging sign in the shape of a circle. Upon closer inspection, Harrow realized it was carved into an ouroboros—a snake winding around to consume its own tail. She had seen the ancient symbol before, but something about its use here gave her pause.

The orange glow of firelight shone through the tavern’s narrow windows onto the cobblestones, and even at this hour, the hum of hearty conversation could be heard from within. The second-floor windows were equally aglow, but no noise spilled from the open shutters, and Harrow guessed that was where the inn’s rooms were located.

She stopped in her tracks, suddenly nervous. “How did you find this place?”

“Told you,” Mal replied. “I asked around for a seedy inn deep in the Underground, and ta-da. It doesn’t get any more underground than this.”

“Are you sure it’s not run by that gang?” Everyone knew about the Hybrid gang that owned and operated most of the enterprises here.

“Oh, I know for a fact it’s run by them. Hence the sign. They’re called the Ouroboros.”

“Then why are we going here?”

“Because, consequently, it’s also the most discreet place to hide. If Sal comes looking for you, no one here will breathe a word about anything to anyone, especially to outsiders, and especially to Salizar. You know how Elementals here feel about Sal’s circus.”

Harrow looked apprehensively up at the sign. “But will they let us stay?”

Mal shrugged. “I already paid for the room. Come on.”

They headed toward the tavern entrance, a wooden door with a rounded top, only for Malaikah to stop suddenly and spin around. She looked up at Raith and made a face. “On second thought, you should wait outside. You’re going to stand out like a sore thumb in there.”

Raith said nothing.

“How is he supposed to get to the room, then?” Harrow had to agree with Mal’s assessment, however. Even from beneath his hood, his unusual eyes glowed, and his looming height meant he would tower over everyone.

Raith tipped his face up to the second floor. “I’ll climb through the window.”

“That’s absurd,” Harrow said at the same time that Mal said, “Cool.”

“But it’s too dangerous—”

“Hon, I could climb that stone with ease, and something tells me Raith can handle himself just fine.” Mal shot him a pointed look. “Just stick to the shadows, and don’t let anyone see you.”

With a silent nod of agreement, Raith stepped into a corner and then seemed to dissolve into the darkness until he was nearly invisible.

“Damn,” Mal whispered with a shudder. Harrow hid her reaction, but she felt much the same way. She would be a fool to forget for even a second how dangerous Raith could be.

She and Malaikah entered the tavern together, and Harrow realized she had vastly underestimated the level of activity from outside. Every table in the alehouse was packed full of shouting, guffawing intoxicated people. The odd shadowy figure lurked in a dark corner. Servers with trays of ale wove their way through the crowds while a drunken fiddle trio dragged through a jig no one paid attention to.

Harrow had always avoided places like this. Too many eyes upon her made her nervous—her safety had always depended on her anonymity. She reaffirmed their decision for Raith to wait outside. If she was uncomfortable, Raith would have felt much worse.

Pushing her way through the crowd, Malaikah headed toward the bar, where a woman was filling tankards of ale. “I rented a room upstairs,” Mal shouted over the melee. “Here to get the key.”

The innkeeper nodded. “Follow me.”

They were led up a narrow staircase to the second level. Upstairs was a long, narrow hallway lined with doors. The noise from below bled through gaps in the creaky floorboards.

The innkeeper unlocked a door at the end of the hall, ushered them inside, and passed the key to Malaikah. “Food orders are put in at the bar, but we can deliver to the room. I’ll send the lads up with some firewood and water. Washroom is behind the curtain. Latrines are out back. You need anything else?”

“We’re good, thanks.”

“Enjoy your stay,” she said unenthusiastically and then left. The bar sounds boomed through the floor. They dropped the bags on the bed and looked around.

Though quite small, the room was surprisingly comfortable. There was one double bed, a stone fireplace, two chairs and a table, and a small couch much like the one in Harrow’s caravan. The curtain on the wall beside the fireplace covered the door to the bath.

The first thing Harrow did was hurry to the window, unlatch the panes, and push the glass open. “Raith!” she whispered to the silent street below. Leaning out, she scanned the lane for him but couldn’t see a thing.

Just when she started to fear that he was gone, his flaming eyes looked up at her. Not from the street but already halfway up the wall, as his claws found purchase in the gaps between stones.

She jumped back to make room for him, and a moment later, he leaped lightly through the window and pushed his hood back. His features remained blank as he scanned his new surroundings.

“Right, then,” Malaikah said into the growing silence. “We did it.”

The victory felt hollow somehow.

“I guess I’d better head back before people notice I’m gone.” Mal gave Harrow a sympathetic look. “You realize you’re going to have to stay here, right? No wandering around.”

Harrow winced. “I know.”

“All right, then. I’ll leave you to it. I still have to get your horse set up in the stables.” She looked between Raith and Harrow, shifting on her feet. “Goodnight, then.”

Harrow hugged her. It’s not goodbye yet, she assured herself. She would see Mal again soon—possibly even tomorrow, if she could sneak away safely. “Night, Mal. Love you.”

“Love you too.” They broke apart. Malaikah gave Raith an awkward wave and then left, pulling the door shut behind her.

Alone, Raith and Harrow stared at each other from across the room.

A knock sounded at the door. “Water and firewood.”

“Come in,” Harrow called as Raith slipped into the washroom to hide. A big bucket of water for bathing and a jug for drinking were delivered by two lizard Hybrid males along with a bundle of wood. After directing them to leave it by the fireplace so they wouldn’t see Raith, Harrow bid the men goodnight, and then silence reigned again.

“We made it,” Harrow finally said, tugging her hood back.

Raith emerged and looked around. He didn’t look any happier about it than she did, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“From one cage to another,” she muttered, seeing the room in a whole new light. For his size, it was cramped. The ceilings were so low, his head nearly brushed them.

He didn’t reply.

“We should get some rest.” She looked at the singular bed and felt her face heat.

Raith followed her gaze, and the silence suddenly felt charged.

“I will sleep on the floor.”

The sound of his voice never failed to send a jolt through her, and she glanced at him. His was not an expressive face, and she had no idea what he was thinking.

“There’s room enough for both of us,” she replied.

He just looked at her.

She planted her hands on her hips. “The couch is too small, and you’re not sleeping on the floor, so don’t even suggest it.”

His eyes narrowed, so she narrowed hers right back, refusing to budge.

It had nothing to do with the butterflies in her stomach when she thought about lying next to him. She refused to let a man who’d spent weeks in a cage sleep on the floor on his first night of freedom. Never mind that she had kissed him barely an hour ago, and the memory of his strong body against hers was so vivid it took her breath away.

The heat rose back to her cheeks. That’s not what this is about.

Deciding two could play at the silent game, Harrow turned away and went about readying for bed. After washing up and changing into her nightgown in the washroom, she came back out and found Raith still standing there. She went to the bed and pulled back the covers on one side, fiddling with the pillows to give her something to do with her hands.

All the while he watched her.

Still pretending to be oblivious, she slipped under the covers, bidding Raith goodnight and leaning over to extinguish the lantern at her bedside. She closed her eyes and feigned sleep while she listened to him moving about the room.

Eventually, she felt the mattress dip as his considerable weight settled in beside her, and her heart began to race. But he didn’t get under the covers.

Which was fine, she assured herself. It was only proper to keep some space between them, and just because she’d kissed him didn’t mean she was ready for—

“Why don’t you come under the blankets?” she whispered into the darkness, immediately wanting to smack herself on the forehead.

Why was she pushing this? Because she wanted him to be comfortable. She didn’t want him to regret escaping with her. And maybe…because she wanted to be closer to him.

She felt his body shift, turning onto his side, so she turned too. Striking fiery eyes peered at her from the dark. Their faces were so close. She let her gaze trace the curve of his lips, the arch of his nose, wishing she could use her finger instead. He was so handsome, his features so proud and noble. Where had he come from? Surely someone out there knew him and felt his absence?

“Goodnight, Harrow.”

His voice… A shiver went through her. I guess he’s not coming under the covers, then. That was okay. Going from a cage to a soft mattress was a big jump, and perhaps the added comfort of blankets would be too much for one night. She could understand that.

Freedom was as much a state of mind as a state of being.

“Goodnight, Raith.” She offered a sleepy smile and closed her eyes, taking a deep inhalation of his scent and allowing it to relax her.

She would ensure he remained free until he had enough time to believe in it.

Whatever it takes. Whatever lies ahead.