Page 52 of You Only Love Twice
He'd left the house.
Though she'd been making progress with him, she couldn't stop thinking about COR and the Chameleon.
They needed her.
And Obsidian was nowhere near close to telling her a damned thing.
He'd made that clear earlier.
Gemma reached for the dead plant in the pot nearby, and dug around in the dirt for her lock pick. It was the matter of seconds to unlatch the manacle. Another to grab his cloak and swing it over her shoulders as she hurried to the door.
Boots, gown, and lock pick. Now she had all three.
"Thank you, my love, for providing me with a dress." She smiled to herself as she tumbled the lock on the barred gates.
The iron gate seemed to squeal on its hinges as she eased it open, and Gemma winced.
Slipping through the bars, she held her breath and listened.
Nothing.
This time she made her way through the back halls, taking the servants hallways when she could. Moonlight flickered through the windows as she passed, quiet as a mouse. Every step she took seemed to shake off the heaviness that still lingered within her.
A door creaked somewhere in the house.
Gemma froze, ducking behind a curtain into a glassed alcove. Damn. He must have returned. Her heartbeat ticked out the seconds, and she popped her ears, trying to hear more.
The second he saw the empty observatory, she'd be in trouble. She had to move. Quickly.
Gemma eased into the hallway, creeping along the hall runner and keeping to the shadows as much as she could as she made her way down to the servant’s section of the house.
She was just slipping beneath the arched doorway that led into the kitchens when something moved behind her.
A hand slammed over her mouth, another hand dragging her back against a hard, male chest. Gemma was about to drive a heel to his instep when she sensed the stillness within him and the familiar strength of his arms. One of his damned biceps was almost the size of her head.
"Don't move," Obsidian whispered.
His attention was elsewhere. His gaze locked on the ceiling above them, as though he was listening to something else.
A chill ran through her.
Maybe it was COR, come to rescue her. But instinct told her there wouldn't have been that quiver of concern in his voice if her friends had arrived. He was faster, stronger, and far harder to kill than a regular blue blood,andhe was a trained assassin.
Pressing her back to the wall, he kept his hand over her mouth, and then eased away from her, peering back into the hallway.
Gemma gently bit his fingers, more to capture his attention than anything else.
Pale eyes met hers, his brows drawn down in a serious frown. Gemma crooked her eyebrow, more of an,"I won't yell if you take your hand away,"than anything else.
Maybe it was her imagination, but for a secondherDmitri was there as he gently slid his gloved hand away from her lips.
The knife whispered free from its sheath, his fingers locking around the hilt in a threatening grip. Gemma's fingers itched for a knife of her own.
A timber board creaked overhead.
They both looked up.
Someone whispered something in the silence of the house. Obsidian held up two fingers, his brows drawing together as he looked at her. She understood his frustration. Two unknown assailants, and a reluctant prisoner.
