Page 49 of Bound
Chapter 18
Gage
“Master Gage?”
I lift my head blearily from the nest of pillows and blankets that I rest on. My eyes squint against the light spilling onto the bed from the wide front room of my now solitary chambers.
Did I forget to turn off the fucking light?
A knock sounds on the hall door. “Master Gage? Have you risen?”
Wilfred.
Groaning, I roll from the bed and pad on bare feet out of my room and to the damn door. I wrench it open. “Yeah?”
The old butler appraises me, ignoring my snap. “I was asked to inform you that your accompaniment into town will be ready to leave in ten minutes.”
Accompaniment?
Town?
The day before spills through the haze of Black Dream still addling my senses. “Right.”
Liam’s body.
I sigh. “Any chance there is coffee made?”
His smile is knowing. He ducks away from the door and reappears, rolling a slim silver trolley before him. The gold carafe on top gleams in the hall’s lighting and steam pours from the spout.
“Anything else, Master Gage?” he asks, his elderly smile growing at my silence.
I shake my head, grip the full coffee pot, and walk back into my room.
The soft rattle of the trolley fades beyond the wood as I fit the spout to my lips and chug.
Scorching hot medium roast spills over my tongue and down my throat; it washes away the too sweet flavor coating my palate.
I cast about the front chamber and toward the closed door to Tanner’s old room. With no recruits I haven’t considered killing, the space has remained empty.
There is no resentment for his moving out. Just a kind of blank hollowness. The lack of a mess has been pleasant. No constant notifications from his previous bedroom conquests, or the odd cat toy from Caine as a prank.
But there has been no familiar laughter on Saturday mornings. No rants over Ruin’s insane scheduling.
Nothing but the silence I am not accustomed to anymore.
Taking smaller swallows of my coffee as the twisted feeling in my gut grows, I bypass the door and move to get dressed.
I slip my empty case in my back pocket and shake my head as I climb the stairs toward the main manor.
A whole damn supply in one night.
My temples throb as though in agreement. Or maybe punishment.
Shoving open the thick, enforced doors, I consider sending T or Ruin to collect Liam’s body. But a Black Dream hangover isn’t a fucking reason for a day off.
It’s justice.
My fascination with Amoret is wrong. Smoking myself into a fucking coma just shows why.
