Page 69 of Wings of Lies
“Brock has the power to sense more than you know. And now Aspen can too,” she muttered the last part to herself.
What did that mean?
“Why are you telling me all this? You don’t want to help me escape, but you’ll give me information?”
Concern lined her pinched brows. “I want you to escape. I just can’t be the one to do it. Even if I wanted to betray Aspen, they’d know. It’s nearly impossible to escape them. Females before you have tried. Either the forest creatures kill them, or Brock beats them tosubmission. But I despise his queen and everything she stands for. Aspen,” her voice cracked. “Has been through hell and survived it, both because of her. It’s changed him. Yet his loyalty remains sound, and I don’t know why. He is good. He is. I swear.” She urged as if trying to convince me, then gathered herself. “Aspen told me you have a lot of power, Lucille. His queen wants it. She’s been searching for the key to her cage for centuries. She thinks you’re it. Protect yourself and find a way out before you cross into the Tenebrous Kingdom.” That was the last thing she said before walking out.
Holding back tears, I unwrapped myself from the blankets. My body throbbed, but the soreness would be my new constant companion until I healed. I walked gingerly to the closet and opened a mirrored door. Inside hung a white t-shirt similar to the one Hana wore, a black jacket made of the same heavy material as Aspen’s cloak, and a pair of black pants with red accents.
Once dressed, I stared at myself and the hollow despair leaking into the purple bags under my eyes. They stood out against my fair skin. “What did you get yourself into?” I whispered to my reflection.
Gingerly, I sat down on the bed, scanning the uncomfortable shirt. My pancake chest shoved at the tight material more than I wanted. The jacket was at least semi-comfortable. But now I looked like Aspen.Why couldn’t I stop thinking about his name? Was I so starved for attention that the thought of the crinkles creasing his eyes as he saw me bleeding out moved me?
But it was difficult not to sympathize with him for what he witnessed. Someone murdered the girl he cared for.
A knock sounded at my door.
Since when did anyone knock?“Yes?”
“I have your food,” Aspen said.
I stared out the window. “I’m not hungry.”
Aspen opened the door, standing with an unyielding expression, a hand behind his back, and an egg and cheese sandwich in his other. Dark, wet strands of hair clung to his forehead and curled near his chiseled cheekbones. His skin gleamed flawless against the crisp, black uniform that showed no trace of dirt or Hellhound gunk.Why did he have to look like that? Why couldn’t my captor be ugly?
“You will eat, Lucille.”
At least the ominous red glow under his chin, coupled with his glare, served as a reminder that appearances meant nothing.
“How do you know my name?” He shouldn’t be allowed to use it.
For a moment, he stayed quiet, and then he walked to where I sat. The red glow lessened the closer he came. He set the plate and sandwich on my lap. “You told me.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Eat. You need nutrients to heal.”
I glared up at him.
“Why do you care when your queen will either use me or lose me?” Yeah, I remembered that little phrase. However, the word lose confused me. I understooduseall too well. If he cared for my well-being, it wasn’t because, in the last week, I somehow got under his cold exterior; it was because I needed to be whole and ready to be used by his queen.
His jaw muscle pulsed, and a faint blue glow hovered in his eyes. I raised a brow in challenge. When he said nothing, I scoffed and gazed at the rising sun behind the dark forest.
I hated him. I hated this. I hated that I had no one.
Small vibrations tickled my chin as Aspen jerked me to face him. His mouth opened, ready to spew his next demand, then stopped. At first, I thought the unnatural tingles from his touch surprised him. But that wasn’t it. Not as his gaze roved over me, taking in my sponge-bathed face, my peculiar eyes, and the tight white shirt under a black jacket. His pupils dilated. My cheeks heated.
“Like what you see?” I snapped.
His lips pursed into a hard line. A deafening silence charged the air between us until he let go of my chin and picked up my sandwich, pressing it against my lips.
“Bite.”
“No.”
“Lucille.”
“Aspen.”
