7. Karmen

7

KARMEN

I stared at the door a moment, wondering at his abrupt exit. Nothing I'd known in my life had prepared me for such an enigma. He was rude and harsh and barely spoke more than grunts and snarls, especially when he was angry. Which seemed to be most of the time. But he'd taken me away from the immediate danger. I could only trust that this place was as safe as it could possibly be.

Even though my skin burned as the sun crept higher in the sky.

My mouth still ached, but I ignored it. Evidently, I was as talented at ignoring pain and discomfort as the wolfman was at embracing his rage.

The room was exactly as I'd specified. Small, dark, with no windows or other exits. The door at the opposite side of the room led to an equally small and dark bathroom. Dingy, yes, but I could deal with that. I'd seen entirely too much grandeur...

I froze, letting that thought play out.Images of gold upon gold upon gold fluttered through my mind. A room that had been my prison. Walls and floors of gold. No other colors to soften the harsh gleaming gold. Even the pillows, cushions, and rugs were gold. I looked up...

Searing pain made me flinch and quickly look down, eyes streaming at the memory. There hadn't been any ceilings. That was what had been bugging me as we'd driven through the city. These buildings all had ceilings and roofs. But in... the city... His city...

What is the fucking name? Frustrated, I stared at myself in the dirty, streaked mirror. Shock edged out my lingering irritation at my spotty memory. I looked gaunt and weak with dark hollows beneath my eyes. My cheekbones stood out stark and angular. My eyes were sunken and weary, as if I'd seen unimaginable horrors.

I had. I just didn't remember them. Thankfully.

My hair was dark red and striped with wide golden highlights. My eyes were mostly brown, I thought, but tinged amber. There was something weird about my eyes. A warning, I thought. But the tidbit escaped me.

I held my arms out, examining the rest of my body as if I'd never seen it before. My arms were thin and scrawny. So were my legs. I allowed the hospital gown to flutter to the floor and turned, looking over my shoulder at myself in the mirror. My skin was ridged with thick, white scars. Looking closer at my arms, I confirmed they bore the same scars, though fainter and shaped differently. Pockets of scar tissue, almost like fingerprints.

Shuddering, I pushed that thought out of my mind. I wasn't ready yet. I didn't want to remember.But this time, my mind was determined to replay that memory like a horror movie inside my own head.

He was as golden as the room, the palace, the entire city that had been built for him. Liquid, melted, searing gold. Every touch was blazing pain. He liked to see agony in my eyes. It was the ultimate adoration for him.

Suffer for me , he used to say. Show me how much you love me.

And I had. I'd borne the pain in silence. I hadn't fought him or tried to stop him. I'd known it was impossible. He owned me, body and soul. I couldn't escape.

All I could do was survive.

The memory faded, though my brain twitched and flinched with lingering horror. I stared at my hollowed, hopeless eyes. My scarred body. There was a deep, precious well inside me that had once been overflowing with bubbling power that had been full of promise. Now that well was bone dry and cracked. I didn't think it would ever hold joy or power again.

But I was still here. I looked at myself in the dirty mirror, and for the first time in ages, I was free to let emotion shine in my eyes. A hint of hope. The fire of determination. The flicker of my long-burning rage.

I'd been forced to swallow those emotions for so long that they'd eaten me from the inside out, destroying my life. My memories. My power.

He hadn't taken my power from me.

I had lost it. No, I'd destroyed it. So he couldn't have it.

I stared at the image in the mirror and I didn't recognize myself. But pride sparked in my eyes.

I had stood in the fires of solar hell and lived to tell about it. I had withstood the rage and cursed affection of a golden, vengeful monster. I'd been burned to a blackened, crisp husk, but I still lived.

Even his sunfires would not destroy me.

Clenching my jaw, I wrapped a towel around my hand. Then I slammed my fist into the mirror. The glass shattered, tinkling onto the floor and grimy sink. Breathing hard, I picked up one of the larger shards, using it like a knife to cut the discarded hospital gown into wide strips. I wrapped several of the larger shards in cloth, leaving the wider ends to act as hand-held mirrors or knives. Whichever I needed the most.

I positioned the wrapped glass around the room on every flat surface, making sure I had a weapon within reach wherever I might be in the room. The biggest piece of glass I set by the door, using a pillow from the bed and a small can under the desk to position it so would catch the reflection of anyone--or anything--that came through the door.

By then, my body was trembling with exhaustion and weakness. The roof of my mouth throbbed with excruciating pain, timed to the beat of my heart. So drained. So empty. Every moment made my body ache. I barely managed to climb onto the bed before I passed out.

EIVIND

I stalked down the hall, grim and silent. My wolf was poised inside me, though I refused to consider why. He wasn't braced to rend flesh and howl with victory—but to bask in the presence of his mate.

Furious—even at myself—I shoved hard at the beast inside me. Slobbering idiot. Do you want to be caged?

Deliberately, I pictured my father's chained wolf in my head in gruesome detail. I denied what my beast insisted was so clear and obvious. He'd made up his mind about Karmen, even if I still distrusted her.

No one's trapping me. No one's caging me. Ever.

I didn't hesitate at the door. She would know I approached. She could feel me. Smell me. Sense me. I couldn't afford to show any hesitation or reluctance. She wouldn't know how much the thought of being in a room alone with her bothered me.

I refused to admit that I was afraid.

Me, the wolf king who'd roamed the Americas free and wild for centuries. I wasn't afraid of a slip of a queen left for dead in an alley. I locked my sweaty palm around the doorknob and pushed my way into the dark room with all the confidence of an emperor entering a peasant's hovel.

Only to draw up short. Stunned. Unable to move. Breathe. Or think.

On her stomach, she sprawled on the bed, one arm hanging down over the side of the mattress. Her hair gleamed in the bit of light shining through the door. Red and gold, a shimmering, fiery waterfall of silk that fell to the carpet. She didn't move despite my abrupt and forceful appearance, ruining my fearless entry.

For a moment, I actually thought she was dead. She'd been so weak in the alley. Maybe whatever the doctors had done in the hospital had been just enough to get her on her feet, but without blood...

My blood...

But no, my wolf ears picked up the faint but steady beat of her heart.

Quietly, I shut the door, blocking off the light shining into the room. She'd been so adamant about the sun and the monsters she feared. I wouldn't take any chances. If I could get her to Helayna's nest without some kind of attack, then I'd be free of her. I wouldn't have to fight my doubts about any of her claims. I'd be done. Free of her. I could return to the wilds and never look back.

I refused to consider that niggling bit of guilt deep in my gut. She was not my queen. I didn't have to fight—and die—for her. I didn't have to be caged.

I scanned the room, eager to look anywhere but at her. She'd broken the mirror and placed shards all over the room. An interesting defense system that I couldn't quite figure out. Sure, the shards were sharp and would cut, but I didn't think that was her intention at all.

Reluctantly, I turned my gaze back to her. Unable to avoid looking at her, I studied her while she was unaware. Curiosity only, I told myself. I took note of the golden hues in her red hair, trying to place her linage. Her hair was striped, not merely highlighted by the blonde tones. Even in the darkness of the room, the golden strands seemed to glow with the lingering hint of sunlight that had seeped through the door with my entry.

A fire goddess? Or solar? I didn't know the houses well enough since I'd stayed out of politics as much as possible. Helayna might know, or she'd certainly be able to reach out to some of the other queens and find out if any young queen had been stolen as a child. Surely that would have been noted by the Triune, especially as rare as children had been for the last few centuries. Could she be that old? Two or three hundred years old? More?

Then who could have held her for so long and nearly killed her? An Aima queen should get stronger as she aged.

Something didn't seem right with her skin. It was bumpy and thickened in spots. I moved closer, allowing my wolf eyes to home in on her back. Scars. Almost as if she'd been whipped or burned. Over and over, so deeply and badly that even her powerful Aima blood hadn't been able to heal it completely without a scar.

Chilled, I sank down in the rock-hard chair next to the bed. Maybe she really was in danger. My stomach tightened with dread. Not because of a fight or even war. I'd love a good bloody battle.

No, I didn't want to be compelled to join her fight. Though I did twist the chair around to face the door. Just in case.