Page 162 of Tempt

The light is painfully bright when the blindfold is removed, and I glance around as best I can with hazy eyes. I’m in some sort of bizarre round room with a long table in front of me. The walls are that same glowing stone I’ve seen all over the city, and although I can’t hear it, there’s a vibration in the air around me that tells me there’s either music or several people talking at once.

When I turn my head to the left, I see Eissa standing on his own, arms still bound behind his back. Ahead of me in the center of the table is Jyrion. He’s not looking at me, but I can still feel his attention.

Eissa is speaking now, and it’s not in English, so I don’t have a single hope of being able to understand. I send my distress to him, and he sends me more warmth back, but he does not provide an interpretation.

My anger is intense.

I am sorry, beloved. Please be patient with me.

Taking a calming breath, I look over to my right, and my heart leaps in my chest when I realize one of the guards in full armor is Rathyn. He flicks his gaze to me once, and only once, before he looks away.

I don’t know if that’s a sign that we’re saved or we’re fucked, and without my ability to hear anything or read the language on the Vyastil lips, there’s no way for me to tell. I’ve never felt so trapped before.

So helpless.

So fucking angry.

I focus my rage on Jyrion, and he meets my gaze, and for just a second, he smiles.

I want to rip through my bindings and somehow manage to sprout claws and tear his throat out, because I know this is his way of proving to me that he could have done this at any time.

He’d been toying with me all along. Any bit of sympathy, pity, or compassion I felt for him is now consumed in fury. His mouth is open, and I can see it moving through the melodic language of the Vyastil.

He gestures with his hands, and it takes me a second to realize that in those gestures are signs.

‘You. Mine.’ He points to Eissa. ‘Him. Dead.’

The fuck I’ll let him kill Eissa. The fuck I’ll ever let him take me. I’ll give my life for my beloved, my VySytheh. I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care what I have to do. I strain against the ties, but nothing happens, and I know that if I’m going to be able to make any move at all, I will need to be clever, and very patient.

I take a deep breath, then turn my gaze to Eissa.

Good, he sends me. Breathe. We will be okay.

How?

Trust me, he begs.

I have no other choice in this moment. I roll my shoulders back, and then just as I start to look for Rathyn again, something in the room shifts. Tension rises. I feel it coming from Eissa in waves.

There’s something happening. Something big.

And then, behind Jyrion, a door opens, and a figure emerges. Human—I can tell that right away. Barely clothed in a sheer tunic, he steps forward, hands clasped in front of him with his head bowed. It doesn’t take much for me to recognize him. Not just from the photo I found in Eissa’s things, but from the memories he shared with me.

The man in front of us is supposed to be dead, and here he is, reaching out for Jyrion and sliding up against him.

Before I can react, I feel it—the waves of shock and pain coming from Eissa. I look over at him and see his lips part, and I don’t need to hear to know the sound coming from him is one of sheer and total agony.

Because this was not a man who gave up his life for Eissa.

The human smirking at him now is a man who very likely was responsible for every one of Eissa’s scars.

thirty-four

EISSA

I was expecting the guards. Their presence is not a surprise. But it takes every ounce of strength I possess, both mental and physical, not to fall into a complete panic when they take Luca into their grasp. Watching him be bound triggers old memories; only this time, it is my VySytheh. It is my beloved.

The other half of my soul.