Page 47 of Devour
I nod and allow myself one moment to examine her. She’s still in her ratty clothing, ripped and splattered with blood and muck. Sticks and dirt still in her hair.
Her expression reveals her hatred.
Good, Little Dove. Your hatred will serve you well.
I don’t mind her hatred. I accept it, even. She should hate me.
Part of me hates her too. I hate her for doing this to me, for making me weak.
None of this is her fault, though. She is not to blame for my emotions regarding her. She is not to blame for falling into a trap.
Yet, it is still important that she trust me enough not to dothis—run off in the middle of the night.
I should have expected it.
A small swell on her thigh catches my attention, and I silently reprimand myself. How could I forget my weapons?
It was never my intention to claim a Drahkita. I am obviously not prepared.
I make a mental note to clear out all the rest but let her keep the small blade she chose. It is unlikely to help her, but even an inadequate means of defense is better than none.
“I think she was just hungry. I gave her some crackers.”
Gordian is a good kid. Another child for me to watch succumb to the darkness of training. When will they force his first kill? Likely within the next year. For now, he is bright and kind. A good steward of our women and children. He takes his job seriously while still being considerate.
“Thank you. You—” I don’t know what to say or how to say it. Neither he nor my new Drahkita can ever know the depth of my concern. Yet, my gratitude is still necessary. “It is appreciated more than you know.” I bow my head in a sign of respect.
His eyes light up.
“See,” he says to her. “You’re someone important.” He grins, even though she looks at him as if he has three heads.
“Come on, Dove,” I murmur. “It’s best we get some rest.”
She crosses her arms with an adorable expression of annoyance. I lift one brow. She pouts, but finally shuffles forward past me and toward our nest.
Unexpected warmth spreads over my chest, but I correct it immediately, reminding myself of all the ways this is so incredibly wrong.
I let her lead the way, until she pauses inside the stemming room. I’d like to examine her expression as she ponders this through, but I stop at her back to give her space.
Motion in the corner of my eye catches my attention. My stomach drops to my feet when I glance up to find a figure standing at the end of the hall leading to pit.
He watches us with dark eyes and tight fists.
“This way,” I finally say, pointing to the hall on the right. She doesn’t notice the threat looming over her. Her only response is to follow my instruction and continue marching.
I hold my breath the whole rest of the way.
If Ivar knows my new companion is already rebellious… she is in more danger than she can even fathom. I look back over my shoulder but find he has not followed us.
To my surprise, she takes the next turn correctly and leads us nearly all the way back to my den.
She is smart.
Maybe too smart for this place.
Smart enough to challenge me. Yet, not aware enough to understand the threats in every shadow. My stomach sours, more evidence of how difficult this will be
Once inside my nest, door closed, the room feels suffocatingly small. Her scent is everywhere. She’s been here for barely more than an hour but I feel her in the very air.
