11. Maggie

Chapter 11

Maggie

I hated that I’d had to remain still while the king groped me, but if I’d cried out or struggled, Davon would’ve attacked. The king’s guards would’ve killed him, and Wortek would’ve stomped his clawed feet on Davon’s remains.

I wasn’t worried about myself. It was easy enough to take my mind away from the situation. Staring into Davon’s eyes grounded me. The protective blaze there made it easier for me to allow it to happen.

It hadn’t been sexual; at least I had that. The king was merely curious about our differences.

And it ended quickly, the king quickly losing interest in my body. With luck, he’d get bored with my dancing and leave the bar, never to return. Then Davon and I could continue making our plan to escape.

I danced, spinning around the pole and dipping. Kicking out and climbing the shaft only to spiral back down. The snug dress remained in place, thankfully, and it wasn’t hard to sink into the trance I’d found when I performed for Wortek’s crowd. In dance, I found my own version of an escape.

The king’s gaze remained fixated on me, and that was the only part of this that made me feel unsettled.

I moved through one song and into another. At least a half an hour passed, and he kept watching, never casting his eyes in another direction, ignoring the drink Wortek placed on the table in front of him.

Even his guards stared at me.

I loved dancing. But I didn’t love the way they didn’t look away.

Wortek watched the king, only sparing Davon and me a few glances. Davon had retreated to the entrance, but he hadn’t stepped outside. He leaned against the back of the door with his arms linked on his chest, dragging his glare from Wortek to the king.

Finally, the king rose and grunted. Wortek scurried behind the bar to turn off the music, though it was only a short reprieve. My night wouldn’t be over until I’d danced for a few more hours. Only then would I be given the break he’d promised. I couldn’t wait to slip away with Davon, to plan, and to savor whatever moments we’d find together.

I couldn’t stop thinking about his words in my room. A mating mark? I couldn’t fathom such a thing. No mark marred my skin, but it might not since I was human. The thought of someone knowing they were destined for another solely because of sand beneath their feet or a symbol appearing on their hand was as foreign to me as this alien world.

Yet the realization that this symbol appeared because Davon was meant for me made my heart tumble around in my chest. I could barely hold back my giddy laugh.

Had he been about to tell me that he liked me too? The thought made me feel flustered, and it was all I could do to slow my dance and stretch out my muscles to keep them from tightening.

“Enough,” the king said, casting a lingering look my way. “Very entertaining. So unusual. Almost . . . lovely.”

Yuck. Pray he didn’t want a repeat performance.

He pivoted and stalked toward the door with his entourage scurrying around him.

Once he’d left, the air seemed to breathe inside the bar once more.

“Good,” was all Wortek said. He strode over to Davon. “You defied me, and I won’t stand for it.” His claws slashed out, raking across Davon’s face, leaving three long gashes that welled with rich blood. “Do it again, and the next cuts will be across your throat.” He turned, his rage spent for the moment and walked over to stand in front of the stage. “Get ready for the patrons, female. Dance well for them too.” With that, he stalked to the small room he used as his office behind the bar.

“Davon,” I cried, though I kept my voice low. I couldn’t let Wortek know what the Zuldruxian male meant to me. “Come closer.” My damn chain kept me pinned to the pole, and I couldn’t go to him. “Let me help you. ”

He shook his head, his fingertip tracing through the blood on his face. “They’re not deep. It’s nothing.”

But they were everything because he’d received them while trying to protect me.

The bartender arrived and arranged his bottles for the night, and it wasn’t long before the music started, and customers stomped into the big open area in front of my stage.

I danced, flailing around the pole with tension riding my spine. Could we find a way to escape tonight? I’d suggest it. Because it was clear that Wortek was on to the fact that there was something between us. If he didn’t outright kill Davon, he’d make sure I never saw him again.

Then I’d never be free.

Finally, the lights came up and Wortek walked out of his office to stand in front of the stage, announcing that I was leaving but that I’d dance again the next night and all the others after that. My upcoming break would be my one and only.

Customers grumbled but that died down at his snarl. His gaze locked on Davon, and he nudged his head to his office. They entered, and Wortek closed the door. I fretted, still bound to the pole and under the leering gaze of the crowd until Davon came back out a short time later.

He leaped up onto the stage and released me from the pole, his gaze on the floor. “Come with me, female. You can use the facilities in your room and then you will have your break.”

I followed him to the staircase, grateful for the shoes, though not enough for it to be worth getting Davon in trouble. We were on borrowed time, and I worried about what might happen next.

He waited in the hall outside my room, out of view, while I washed at the sink and changed into a tunic and pants, stuffing my feet back into my shoes. Since he hadn’t pinned my chain to the wall, I stepped out to join him when I was ready.

Walking over, I stood in front of him, a wet scrap of his shirt in my hand. “Bend down. I want to wash your face.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” I snapped, barely holding back my tears. I hated that he’d been wounded in my defense. “I’m sorry I fought it. If I’d kept my mouth shut, you wouldn’t have felt the need to defend me. You wouldn’t be hurt.” I gently dabbed at the dried blood on his face. As he said, the wounds were shallow, but they must bite. “He hurt you, and it’s all my fault. What if you get an infection? Your face could fall off. What if you died?” My eyes stung and tears trickled down my face as I carefully washed away the blood, leaving the slightly gaping wounds behind. “You’re going to have scars.”

He stilled my hand with a gentle wrap of his fingers around my wrist. “My face won’t fall off.” His smile came out crooked, but it must hurt to move his cheeks like that.

“Don’t smile,” I huffed.

“How can I not when I’m looking at you?”