Page 72 of Auctioned for Her Blood
But as I look into her eyes, flashing with a mix of fear and determination in the torchlight, I know that she deserves the truth.
I do not like to lie to anyone, but don’t want to lie to Ember—ever.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ember
My back pressesagainst the arm of the sofa, wishing it weren’t so soft, wishing I could do something to help me seem stronger and hide how my body is trembling.
Zuben saved me from rape and probably bleeding to death, given the size of that monster’s cock. I’m grateful for that, but need answers. Zuben knows what’s going on here—knows way more than he’s telling me at least.
I’m even weaker, more tired now than when I first awoke and it’s a struggle to keep my eyes open, nearly impossible to focus with so many questions racing through my mind. I fight to set priorities.
The word priority puts my most important question back on top. “Where is Ryker?”
Zuben shakes his head, slowly. “I do not know.”
“Bullshit!” My voice cracks and I struggle to find moisture to soothe my raw throat, the energy to sit straight.
Zuben’s chiseled chin rises, his cheekbones catching the flickering light. Gracen was not wrong about his looks. As attracted as I am to Ryker, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a more handsome man than Zuben. He’s beautiful, really.
“Ember,” he says calmly, “I do not know the location of the pirate, but I will tell you all that Idoknow. I promise.”
“And what is your promise worth?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“My life,” he says so earnestly it’s hard to believe he doesn’t mean it.
Even though I know he’s likely manipulating me, there is something about his expression and the look in his eyes that urges me to believe he means what he said: to him, his word is worth his life.
“What happened last night?” I ask. “In the square. Were you following us?”
His chin dips. “Yes. I was.”
I’m shocked at this blatant honesty. “Why?”
“To keep you safe.”
“Safe?” I tip my head back. “You call this safe?” My voice scrapes out, each word drawing pain.
“No.” His head bows slightly. “At that objective, I have failed miserably.” He looks into my eyes again. “But if you can find a way to forgive that failing, I will do everything in my power to correct the egregious injustice which resulted from my error.” He shakes his head quickly. “Correction. I will right this injustice whether or not you forgive me.”
“Thank you.” Why am I thanking him? He’s just admitted that my being here is his fault.
“Why are you thanking me?” he asks.
My back stiffens. “Can vampires read minds?”
“No, most cannot.”
“Canyou?” I realize this man is not only cryptic, he’sveryliteral, and his, ‘Most cannot,’ answer told me nothing. If he wants me to trust him, he’s going to have to be more forthcoming.
“No. I cannot read minds.” He shifts slightly. “In fact, at times I believe I am less skilled in this regard than most people on earth, no matter their species.” His head twitches, just slightly, as if admitting this hurts him.
“And you did not answer my question,” he continues. “Why did you thank me, given my actions caused you great harm?”
The raw honesty in his question, his need to understand my feelings, moves something inside me—shifts something profound in the utter core of me. “I was thanking you for stopping that Psycho guy from raping me.”
“Ah. Yes.” He nods as if I’m a magician who just revealed my best trick. “For that you are most welcome. I only wish that I could have spared you the threat.”
