With all her heart, Rowena wished she could hug Slay now.
Fear kept her feet immobile. Not of him but of what might happen in her head if she dared. So far, she’d been unexpectedly fine when they touched, but that didn’t mean she’d surmounted the problem. Better wasn’t cured, and maybe she never would be. She’d settle for tiny steps forward, even if it meant also taking a few paces back.
Until her confidence increased she’d savor flirting with him. He didn’t see her as damaged or worse, tainted by her association with the tyrant. She smiled, hoping Slay could tell how happy she was to see him, how relieved she felt to have him back more or less unscathed. People died in the box, and others went mad. To her knowledge, nobody had gone back as often as Slay and emerged with their minds still intact. Maybe his stubbornness was an Animari thing—she had no idea—or it could be unique to Slay.
He seemed thunderstruck by her playful response, unable to respond for a few moments. Finally he said, “You saying you’d like our pretense to be real?”
“Not right this minute. But yes, if it’s possible. Eventually. I want to choose a lover, just like everyone else does. That would be…” Here, words failed her.
She hadn’t wanted that from Prince Alastor, whatever he’d thought about her case of hero worship. He was too close to the tyrant, biologically related. As for Dedrick and Graff, they felt more like siblings. And fighting with the other soldiers, marching with them, smelling their sweaty bodies and breathing in their farts while watching them peel the skin off their scaly feet? Close quarters didn’t always lead to attraction. There had been absolutely no one in the prince’s cohort who tempted her. She’d never expected she’d feel a spark for the first time after returning to the undercity.
Slay still hadn’t said anything, and she started feeling awkward. “Uhm. It’s not a requirement or anything. I would never pressure you—”
“I’m just marveling at my luck,” he said quietly. “Could be our circumstances but I’m feeling pretty special.”
When his hot golden gaze glided over her mouth, it felt like a kiss, and excitement quivered through her. The feeling was new enough that it gave her the shivers. She wasn’t used to having another person involved in her sexual urges. Instead of panicking, she breathed through her nerves and just…experienced everything—the arousal and the anxiety and afterward, he was still there. Not impatient, not annoyed, only puzzled and a little concerned.
“I hope you always feel the way,” she said. “To explain my issues, I would have to tell you things that I prefer not to think about, let alone discuss and—”
“Nah,” Slay cut in. “Don’t dig into old wounds for me. I mean, if you need to, I’ll listen, but I don’t believe that every wound needs lancing. Sometimes they heal over and the scar tissue is tough. You want that protection, right? So leave it be and do whatever’s right for you. I’m here regardless. Not going anywhere.” He flashed an endearing grin. “I mean, I literally can’t leave, but I think you get what I’m going for here. Did I ruin it?”
It felt like her face might crack open, she was smiling so wide. “Never.”
The bell tolled, signaling their curfew. Though they were close to their quarters, it would be bad for guards to catch Slay breaking the rules so soon after returning from the box. They likely already had him on a watchlist. Rowena tried not to fret about what Lucan had said as she headed to their pallets.
“You’re worried,” Slay guessed.
She glanced at him, startled. “How can you tell?”
“Your scent changes. Being Animari gives me a leg up in that regard.”
Oh.
“Does that mean you can tell when I…”
“When you’re entertaining wicked thoughts about me? Yes.”
The heat in her cheeks blazed until she had to press both palms to her face to soothe the sting. “I can’t decide if it’s better or worse that I’m now aware that you’ll know.”
“It makes certain things easier,” he admitted. “Because we usually don’t need to be concerned about moving on someone who isn’t into it. If there’s any reciprocal attraction, it’s generally tangible to both parties.”
She considered briefly. “That would be convenient.”
“You never have to wonder about me,” Slay said.
“Thank you.”
Dread still coiled deep within her, however, as they made their way to their pallets and settled with her nestled between Slay and the wall. When she closed her eyes, she surprised herself, not by obsessing on what would happen when Lucan reported her to the tyrant, but…
With a mouth-watering mental image of Slay’s gaze on her while he ruthlessly fisted his cock. She found she could create every minute shift of his expression, the way he licked his lips and bit them, and soon, she was downright turned on, so slick that she could feel it when she rolled onto her side. She wouldn’t do anything, surrounded by so many people, but it was a unique feeling, being aroused by someone who was right next to her and—
If he’s still awake, he probably knows.
Just then, Slay’s breath brushed her ear, sending tingles through that side of her body. “You’re thinking dirty thoughts again.”
Rowena didn’t even try to deny it. “Guilty. I’m remembering how you looked getting yourself off.”
He made a noise deep in his throat that created an answering ache inside her. “Cruel and unusual. That was hot for you?”
“Yes.” She squirmed a little more. Those urges grew more difficult to ignore, her sex thrumming insistently, and she rolled onto her stomach. The pressure against the rag pallet, even though her clothes, might be enough if she moved a bit more purposefully.
I shouldn’t…
“They’re all asleep,” Slay whispered. “If you’re quiet, nobody will know.”
Sometimes it was as if he could read her mind. He’d know, though, and that turned her on even more. With an urgent huff of breath, she slid her hand between her legs. Doing it like this was the fastest way she’d found to make it happen. Her cheeks burned as she scissored her legs and tried to hold her breath. Slay moved closer, not touching her, but his heat radiated toward her, and she could tell by his rapid inhalations that he was excited.
He put his hand near her lips, like he wanted to feel her silent gasps against his skin, and she latched on with her teeth, biting down to silence the moan when she came. With a silent shudder, she basked in the tingles spreading through her. Just a tiny orgasm, enough to take the edge off. Abashed, she released him, hoping she hadn’t done real harm.
“That was quick. I turn you on that much?” Slay whispered the question, another shiver of breath on her skin.
Relaxed now, she stretched and nestled her face against her forearm. “Most definitely. Sorry if I’m leaving you with…unresolved issues, but I’m about to pass out.”
His laugh sounded like a purr. “Worth it. I don’t even mind.”
A random, sleepy question occurred to her. “Why do they call you Slay? Is it because of your temper?”
“Partly. The joke was that I’d rather fight to the death than admit I’m wrong. But also, my last name is Slater.”
“Ah. A dual purpose nickname.”
“What’s your surname anyway? I don’t think you ever told me.”
She yawned, closing her eyes. Normally it bothered her to admit this. “Don’t have one, though I’ve been using Van Alastor since the prince saved me from the block.”
Of her own accord, she reached out and took Slay’s hand. So warm. Callused. Utterly unlike the tyrant’s.
I could never get those two mixed up, even in the dark.
For the first time in ages, hope sparked through her. If Slay gave her time, she might be able to move forward with him.
Ro fell asleep dreaming of the future.
Slay was harder than he ever had been in his life.
For Rowena.
Who he’d never truly touched. And yet it felt like they were lovers. No longer faking the show for curious onlookers. Nothing about that impression made any damn sense, but he wasn’t known for his logical brain. He had no clue what was happening between them. Possibly he’d regret all this later, when he got back to his normal life and started assessing the impulsive decisions he’d made right and left recently.
Not thinking about that now.
Slay laid there for hell knew how long, absurdly aware of her hand tucked in his. He let out a slow breath and tried to drift, but he kept circling back to how much danger she was in. Constantly. There was a ticking clock in the back of his head and his jaguar paced in the prison of his mind, snarling uneasily. The great cat wanted out of this hell hole even more than Slay did, and it had been so long since he shifted that he feared he might go feral the next time he did. No higher intelligence driving his actions, just animal instinct.
Finally, he winked out, but it felt like mere moments until six bells. Slay groaned as he opened his eyes and then stilled when he realized that Rowena was pressed up against him. No shin kicking this time, just her tucked against his side, breathing deeply in sleep as the rest of their work crew stirred nearby.
Fuck. I don’t want to get up.
“Best get moving,” another prisoner said.
“Rowena,” he whispered.
He didn’t touch her, but he said her name again, this time more firmly.
When she opened her eyes, her whole body went rigid at seeing his face so close. For a minute, he thought she might scream, and the abject terror in her silvery gaze broke his heart. Finally, she exhaled and the tension left her as she moved away from him.
Fuck. That bastard needs to die. Don’t much care how we get it done, but it’s happening.
“Sorry,” she said, scrambling to her feet with extra caution.
“You okay?”
“I was just a bit startled.”
Slay said, “I don’t think I grabbed you. Seems like you migrated in your sleep.”
“You’re really warm.” Her smile held a wistful note, as if she planned to savor the memory of being snuggled up to him.
Come to think of it, he’d never slept with anyone before Rowena. That was something he didn’t let happen when he was struggling to keep everybody happy. Fun fact, jaguars were shit at juggling and in the end, his balls ended up all over the floor. Groaning, he got up and tried to stretch away some of the kinks.
I miss showers. Even a cold one would be welcome.
Hygiene in the undercity amounted to a rag and bucket, and most didn’t bother. Consequently, the smell was overwhelming, though he’d learned to ignore it, a bit like pretending not to see the demon making faces through a window.
The morning went as usual with the same crappy breakfast. No wonder people had open sores and died young. It sucked imagining Rowena growing up here, tormented by Tycho Vega, having no idea what else was out there. Then Slay pictured her expression at finally seeing some of the world, and fuck, he wished he could’ve been the one to save her. He went back and forth on being pissed at Prince Alastor—yeah, he’d saved Rowena once, bullshit that he seemed to have abandoned her now.
“You look like you want to kill someone,” Ro said, as she followed the others toward the workshop.
Slay scowled. “Accurate.”
“Anyone I know?”
He shot her a look. “Probably best not to discuss it right now.”
“Understood.”
Once they got to the workshop, Slay made fancy dresses for hours, until his body screamed in protest and his spine might never be the same. Yet right next to him, there was a little girl working at the same pace. She couldn’t be more than eleven, and her face was filthy, more dirt than skin showing.
I really need to remember how easy I’ve had it. And I had no fucking clue, either.
As he studied her, the girl fumbled and Slay lunged, pulling her hand free before the needle stabbed through her palm. She cried out, eyes wide, but before the guards came, the bell tolled signaling the meal break.
“You okay?” he asked.
Silent and scared, she nodded. “I already have a protector. Please don’t hurt me.”
Fuck, what does that mean? Surely not what that other prisoner had mentioned before when he was praising Rowena for hooking up with Slay. This girl couldn’t be implying that, right? Please, no. Not at her age.
Rowena knelt to inspect the child’s hand. No damage. “Who’s that?”
“My older brother looks after me. But he works somewhere else, and I’m just trying to stay out of trouble.”
“We won’t bother you,” Ro promised.
The girl relaxed at hearing Rowena speak for Slay. He backed off and let them talk, instead joining the line to get his portion of gritty brown bread and beer.
This kind of life makes you wish for death.
Without Rowena, he might not be coping so well. Before they met, despair had been chewing away at him, like a mouse working a wheel of cheese. Allying with her gave him some hope that they could turn the tide—that this wasn’t forever.
After work, they cruised past the comfort house and Rowena’s scent brightened with excitement. He didn’t understand the reason for it because everything looked the same to him. Then she leaned close to say softly, “There’s a yellow ribbon tied around the pillar. That’s the signal. Hettie must have gotten Chantisse on board.”
“We heading in then?”
She shook her head. “We can’t use the comfort house as our HQ. Tonight, as we walk around, I’ll check a few of the old drop sites. There should be a message telling us where the first assembly will be held.”
A chill went through him. This was major, and here he was in the thick of it. He didn’t have roots in Golgerra, so there was no way in hell he could’ve accomplished anything without her. But supporting Rowena, doing whatever the hell she needed him to? That he could do.
Slay put his face next to hers. The gesture would look intimate, but this was about preventing spies from eavesdropping. “We talked about taking Golgerra,” he said. “But we didn’t think it would be possible from the outside. All our best strategists said it would cost too many lives, and even then they didn’t project a high probability of success.”
“That’s why it’ll be an inside job,” Rowena said. “And I don’t care about the odds. All reasonable projections suggest I’d be dead by now, but I’m not. And I’ll fight with every breath in my body. Until we get this done or I’m done in.”
“No. Not on my watch. You need somebody to guard your back. That’s where I’ll stand, until they pull me away in pieces. I got you, Ro.”
Her eyes welled up with tears, and they slid down her cheeks in delicate trickles. Defiantly, she stared up at him, as if challenging him to comment on the fact that he’d made her cry. She didn’t wipe the marks away and he didn’t either.
She swallowed hard before she could get the words out. “We don’t really have religion in the undercity. Because any god or goddess that would let us live like this? I don’t owe them any worship. But I’m starting to think you were sent, Slay. There’s no other explanation for me winding up beside somebody as amazing as you.”
Fuck. Kissing her would have been perfect, but he’d promised to be patient. Not to push. So he pressed his lips to his palm instead and then blew. Bright-eyed, she snatched the kiss out of the air and made an adorable show of stashing it in her tunic for later.
“Your kisses are high octane, I’m fired up now,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s go exploring. I want to show you my childhood.” Her eyes said that was the cover for checking the drop sites.
Slay hoped he’d still learn more about Rowena because apparently this hunger was bottomless, and if he couldn’t have her, he’d devour her words instead.