Page 18 of Tempt

Mockingly, he swings his arm, inviting her to join him, and Wonder recovers from her stupor. Navigating the maze of stacks, it takes a while for her stomach to settle. Many people can sing. It’s nothing, merely a fluke.

How long will they be gone? Where in the Peaks will they hide?

They’ll need time. They’ll need a haven.

In the main hall’s circulation rotunda, a central globe perches inside glossy wooden brackets. Malice moseys toward the model and slaps it, making the orb spin. He’d been in such a hurry, yet now he tarries!

What is he waiting for? Where is the hidden contraband?

With a snigger, he says, “Are you ready?”

“Are you daft?” she balks. “The Asterra Flora.”

“Ah, yes. We can’t go without that.” He taps his chin. “I could have sworn, I left it someplace.”

She’s going to scream at him. She’d been under the assumption that he’d been leading them to the mixture’s hiding spot.

But no, his hiding spot isn’t in the library…per se. This fact becomes a sinful, appalling, scandalous reality the moment his hand disappears into the front of his jeans. Wonder’s jaw drops as he plunges and then withdraws a capsule of liquid.

She’s positive that her eyes have inflated to the size of balloons. “This whole time. This whole time, you had it in your…”

“It’s called a prick,” he supplies. “That makes it the perfect hiding spot, since my groin is the only location nobody’s ever been keen to explore. And why didn’t I just use the blend on the manacles and free myself? I’m sure you’ve drawn the conclusion that I need you along for the road trip, so why bother rehashing? Also, making you free me was a lot more entertaining.”

He uncaps and smears a bead of fluid across his palm, painting a glistening tributary over the lifelines. Then he snatches her hand and repeats the process. Finished, he drops the ampoule into his saddlebag and pats it. “I’ll give you the corsage once we get there.”

The capsule in his pants, the flowers and pomegranate in his bag. He’d stashed them in plain sight. Like an amateur, her class has underestimated him for the thousandth time.

Wonder throws up her arms. “Then why did we come here?”

Malice flicks his digits at the repository. “I wanted to say good-bye to my home, away from home, away from home, before we left.” He points to the carpet. “Besides, I’m thinking this is a prime spot to meet our exit.”

“How about meeting your maker, instead?” a stormy voice growls.

Wonder clenches her eyes shut. Dammit.

She cannot decide whether to be relieved or dismayed, to be afraid for their sakes or for the irredeemable dummy causing mayhem beside her. Daring to peek, she finds her class gaping, or glaring, or grimacing, depending on the source.

Anger, Merry, Andrew, Love, Envy, and Sorrow.

The group forms a crescent, a firing squad of arrows targeting Malice, ready to blow him off his haunches. The iron, neon, frost, glass, and ice projectiles aren’t bluffing. Though they can’t kill, a combined effort will launch him through the building’s skeleton, potentially severing load-bearing walls and demolishing the library.

How did her friends know to come here? Does it matter?

Wonder holds up her hands. “Dearests, wait—”

She chokes as a forearm cranks around her jugular, whipping her against a solid body. Malice moves like a snake, pointing one of Wonder’s quartz arrows at her temple.

The visual produces a seizure, a unanimous premonition from her peers as they clutch their archery. Wielded by bows, the arrows don’t pierce.

Brandished by hand, they do. It’s still not powerful enough to kill, but enough to hurt.

At his leisure, Malice can turn Wonder into a pincushion, lacerating her with plenty of tactically placed cuts to make a difference. Her inhalations escalate. She remembers this, the torment of being held down, of being sliced and diced.

Her scars remember this, especially when Malice glides the arrowhead down, down, down to her starburst scars. One flick, and he’ll reopen them.

Malice sighs. “Lower them, mates.”

“Are you shitting me?” Andrew snaps.

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