Page 24 of A Touch of Poison
I was driftingoff when the door opened hours later. Head bowed, eyes aglow, Bastian slipped inside without calling for the lights, but I could see him in the odd pinkish glow of the banked fire. I found my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
It had worked. He hadn’t seen me—hadn’t bothered to look because he didn’t expect me to be awake.
And because he was so used to his rooms being his sanctuary.
I grimaced as all the words I’d planned fled.
He was almost at the door when I looked up from my drink and found him peeling off his shirt. Across his flesh, the sinuous curves of an inked snake carved their way across his shoulders and down his back. The firelight picked out flecks of light in its darkness. Were they stars?
I wasn’t meant to be ogling his body. This was an ambush.
“You missed a rule in your list.” My voice cut through the quiet. “The one where I’m not allowed to leave your rooms.”
He straightened and turned, eyebrows tight together as he called for the fae lights to brighten in their sconces. “What are you doing up?” His gaze landed on the empty decanter. The look he shot me pierced, not even remotely softened by the alcohol. “Drinking?”
I snorted at the accusation in his tone. “You locked me in your rooms. The guards at the door won’t let me leave. What did you expect me to do?”
He stiffened, a wince adding to the darkness around his eyes. “There are plenty of books—”
“I’ve read them all.” I waved my hand. “Except for the ones in that strange alphabet that looks like knife slashes.”
His eyebrows rose. “How did you read them so quickly? And the—”
“It’s been a week, Bastian.”
Blinking, he raked a hand through his hair, gaze skipping across the thick carpet as though reckoning the days. “Shit. I… I wasn’t fully prepared for you to wake when you did, and I hadn’t considered that you’d be left here without entertainment. That being said, drinking is not the answer.”
The breath left me in a loud huff of disbelief. Not quite a laugh, but close. “Business Bastian is lecturing me.” Because that was how he sounded—all formal and judgemental. I stood, hands on hips. “The man who dropped me in the middle of a palace and fucked off for a week is lecturing me. That’s bloody rich.”
His jaw rippled, and I could see the effort it took to lower his squared shoulders. “Go to bed, Kat. You’re drunk.”
“No. I’m not. That’s the problem—I can’t get drunk, but I can still get a lecture from Business Bastian, it seems.” I smiled and spread my hands. “Please continue. Tell me what it is I’m supposed to do while locked in your rooms. If drink isn’t the answer, what is?”
His eyelids fluttered and he drew a breath, but no words came.
Part of me ached at the sight of the dark rings around his eyes and the way his shadows barely summoned more than a ripple around his feet. He was exhausted.
But so was I.
Exhausted and alone and lost.
So fucking lost.
My eyes burned as I squeezed my hands into useless fists. “What do you want me to do, Bastian? I have no purpose here. Nothing to do. No one to speak to. You’ve clearly ordered the servants not to talk to me.”
He bristled. “I did no such—”
“Even if you didn’t—they won’t. I tried. But…” I held my breath as the pressure behind my eyes grew. But it was no use. I couldn’t hold either thing back. “You left me here with nothing but my own mind. And I can’t stop thinking about… about everything.” I tugged at the pearlwort necklace. “The only time I’m not alone is when you appear for thirty seconds, touch my wrist, and disappear because… because…” I held up my hands, the purple stains covering my fingers and bleeding onto my palms—the poison as uncontrolled as my garbled words. “You put your blood in me and now I’m thisthing.”
“I saved your life,” he growled.
“It wasn’t worth saving.”
Stillness rushed into the room, sucking out every sound.
Bastian stared at me, eyes wide. He couldn’t have looked more shocked if I’d slapped him.
My stomach condensed, tight and roiling around the brandy. If I could’ve pulled the words out of the air and stuffed them back into my mouth, I would’ve.
