Page 4 of City of the Lost
“She didn’t. I’m the official face of Elora’s attack on the resistance. I’ve brought her many rebel Shedim who’ve skulked back into Draconi territory with a view to recruitment. I’ve seen her torture them, even when it is plain they will not break. I’m familiar with her brand of pain. It’s not something you recover from easily.”
Gooseflesh broke out up my arms. “Well that explains why the rogues wanted to hurt you so bad. You think you could have filled me in on that tidbit of info?”
“It hardly matters why they took me. What matters is what Elora will do to you. Are you listening to me?”
Of course I’d heard, but the facade, my unbreakable front, wasn’t easily penetrated, and any turmoil that lay beneath would remain hidden. “Yeah, I heard you. Pain like I’ve never known, etcetera ... I think you’re underestimating my powers of persuasion.”
His face hardened. “This is no joke, Wila. She will hurt you. It’s what she knows. It’s what makes her who she is.”
A killer, that’s what she was. But not him. Not by choice. What hold did she have over him? “I don’t get it. You do her bidding, you go on about how she saved you, but right now you actually sound like you don’t like her very much.”
“Likedoesn’t come into it. Leaders don’t get to where they are by being liked. They get to where they are by doing what must be done to ensure the survival of the many. Elora is an effective leader.”
Was this the shit they were being fed over the border? Man, he had it so twisted. “You’re wrong. A leader should inspire loyalty not just through fear and gratitude but also through shared ideals. Do the Shedim truly share her views? Do you?”
He dropped his gaze to the steaming cup of cocoa, his fists clenched on the tabletop. “This is a pointless conversation. We will find the rogue Shedim, and we will return with the head of their leader. Elora will be appeased. There will be no punishment.”
“And so it has been said, and so it shall be done.” My voice was a sardonic boom.
His lips twisted in annoyance at my mocking tone, and there was a flash of doubt in his eyes. No. Not doubt. It was fear. I’d never seen him afraid, even when he’d been trapped in the ball of light under the mausoleum with one of the Shedim laying into him with a glowing whip. He’d been in pain, sure, but fear hadn’t crossed his brutal features. Now, in the relative safety of my kitchen, with a mug of hot cocoa at his fingertips, he was scared. Comprehension was a prickle across my skin. He was afraid, but not for himself. He was terrified for me.
My throat tightened. A scalding sip of cocoa did the trick, enough to plaster a faux smile on my face. “You’re right. They’ll make a false move soon, and then we’ll have them. And don’t worry about pain—I’m sure there’s a potion somewhere that can numb that shit.”
He swallowed. “I hope so, Wila. I hope so.”
Early morning light crept across the kitchen and bathed the table in warmth.
Azren tipped back his head and gulped down his cocoa, the thick column of his throat bobbing suddenly the most mesmerizing thing I’d ever seen. I dropped my gaze to my mug, tamping down the urge to reach out and touch him. He wasn’t mine to touch. He belonged to Elora, and there was no acting on the powerful attraction that was blooming between us. In fact, I’d probably be forgiven for thinking it was all in my head, because the past week Azren had done his best not to be in the same room with me unless he had to.
Azren set down his mug. “We should make another sweep of the catacombs. Maybe there is something we missed.”
There wouldn’t be, we’d combed the shit out of that place, but if it made him feel better… “Sure. Let’s go look for clues, Nancy Drew.”
2
Istared at the text from Taylem and ignored the fluent foreign cursing spilling from Azren’s lips as he paced back and forth across the entrance of the mausoleum. His hands were on his hips, chin tucked in, shoulders heaving. The last couple of days he’d been losing it more often, little bursts of anger that he managed to tamp down on quickly enough, but it went against the cold, controlled fury he usually displayed. My eyes were still adjusting to the sunlight after being underground for so long, and my head was beginning to throb dully. His ranting wasn’t helping.
Azren punched the stone mausoleum and then glared at the unaffected spot on the structure as if it had said something offensive. The wound on his hand healed in a matter of seconds, and he pulled back for another throwdown.
“Will you stop fighting the building? You’re giving me a headache from having to cringe so much.”
He began to pace again. “I was sure we’d find something this time. A route we’d missed,something.”
“Well we didn’t, so let’s just go.” The sun was high. We’d been scrambling about under the earth for hours. “I have a contact that’s looking into procuring us some undercity maps. Sewers, that kind of thing. If there’s any record of what’s down there, then he’ll find it. Until then, this is a waste of time.”
“So what wouldyourather be doing with our time?” His tone was heavy with sarcasm as he fixed his disgruntled gaze on me.
Gosh, he was a bear with a sore head today. I held up my phone. “Tay’s throwing a party for the regulars. It’s Fergus’s birthday. The neph is going to be a hundred and twenty.”
“You want to go to a party?” His voice dropped an octave, a sure sign he was pissed.
Okay, sonowhe’d decided to switch back to controlled fury.
I shrugged, affecting nonchalance. “Sure.”
He stalked toward me, and it took everything in my power not to back the fuck up, because he was still vibrating with anger, and yeah, it wasn’t directed at me, but still, it spilled out of him, pouring off him in waves and teasing to life primal instinct. And when he was like this—getting up close and personal—it was impossible to forget he was a monster. That he could end me as easily as snuffing out a candle if he wished. My thoughts must have shown on my face, because he brought himself to a halt a couple of feet away, tucked in his chin, and ran a hand through his tousled locks.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said gruffly. The anger had bled from his tone, and my muscles unknotted.
