Page 2 of Henrikk’s Game

The guards had only irregularly provided him with a razor when he bathed with which to shave. Today was one of those days, and the blond bristles that had broadened his jawline that morning were gone, the skin smooth to the touch.

Henrikk didn’t touch him, eyes gleaming as he withdrew his hand. “I look forward to our game of cat-and-mouse. Do try to make this game interesting, won’t you? I’ll see you tonight.”

Henrikk left with a low cackle, as did most of the guards. There were only three left in the corridor outside—Asher checked—and they made no move to stop him when he made as if to follow Henrikk.

Interesting.

Was he truly allowed to roam freely in the castle as Henrikk had implied?

A castle with a monster within its walls hunting me.

“We’re to lock and secure the door once your time is up,” the guard answered when Asher asked him. “You have fifty-nine minutes remaining.”

“Thank you for the specificity,” Asher said sardonically, forgetting for a moment two important things: one, that he was no longer the soldier’s commander; and two, that he was not Henrikk and did not belittle those of lower rank.

Asher’s imprisonment had begun to wear on him. The days had blurred into one, a stormy mix of light and dark, dreams and nightmares, where Henrikk visited him at seemingly random times of the day.

Sometimes even waking him at night.

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Asher returned to the office-turned-armoury. He made the most of the fifty-seven or so minutes he had left, knowing that there must be a reason Henrikk had allowed him so much time.

The choice of weapons would matter. Why, Asher couldn’t be sure, but he gave the room his careful attention. Finally, he found it, his hand closing over the weapon that would be Henrikk’s downfall.

Chapter 2

HIDDEN SECRETS

Asher

Asher arrived back upstairs with his arms full of weapons. He’d taken Henrikk’s advice and had chosen as many as he could carry, although he’d lost at least two throwing stars climbing up the stairs.

None of the guards had followed him, and it was a surreal feeling to arrive on the top floor and find the landing deserted.

His skin prickled, and Asher glanced behind him nervously, half-expecting to see Henrikk sneaking up behind him with a wicked knife.

There was no one there.

He let out a long breath and walked along the corridor to the royal suite. The soles of his shoes were thinner than the soldier boots he’d spent most of his life in, and he could feel the soft carpet runner beneath his feet. It was surreal, this small taste in freedom.

It even smelt fresh and new.

Asher halted and glanced down at the ornate green rug. He frowned as realisation set in.

It was new. There had definitely not been a rug here earlier, which means that someone—and he knew who—had brought it here.

The subtle change made him uneasy, and he entered his room.

It looked the same.

But it didn’t feel right. Again, it was the smell that alerted Asher, although vampires’ sense of smell was little better than a human’s. Still, he did not need the heightened senses of a wolf shifter to know that Henrikk had been in here, too.

His cologne hung in the air, dark and spicy, and smelling of leather.

It’s a silent warning.

Asher laid the weapons on the bed, glancing around suspiciously.

Something had changed in here too, but it took Asher a while to figure out what.