Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

My skin had gone cold as my thoughts flashed to the small pouch in my pocket. This was the kind of Hyhborn lord I expected. Icy. Deadly. Not teasing and laughing, claiming to be a protector. It was a good reminder of exactly what I was dealing with. “I understand.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.” His mouth touched my temple again. “I’d hate to have to end you when I’ve been quite . . . enthralled by you.”

He sounded like that surprised him, as it did me. I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of enthralling anyone, let alone a Hyhborn who’d threatened my life. “I think you’ve confused being enthralled with amusing yourself by irritating me.”

“Possibly,” he remarked. “I do find pleasure in that.” He paused. “Na’laa.”

I sighed.

Lord Thorne then released me, and the sudden freedom caused me to stumble. His hands curved briefly around my upper arms, steadying me. When he let go this time, I was expecting it, but I could still feel the . . . the heat of him standing behind me as the wall sconces flickered to life, the two framing the doorway and one near the bathing chamber.

He’d done that without moving, instead using the very air we breathed to flip a switch on a wall several feet away.

I sucked in a shallow breath. Even though I knew he was a Hyhborn lord and I’d seen what he was capable of, his power was still as shocking as Claude expecting me to gain information— to manipulate it out of such a powerful being.

Panic threatened to take root and spread, but I couldn’t allow it. I needed to pull myself together. It wasn’t just my life riding on it.

Taking a moment to calm my heart and mind, I fixed a smile on my face. “It’s a good thing I cannot turn lights on without touching them,” I said, turning around. “I would never rise from a . . .”

Words failed me as my gaze crawled up long legs and strong hips encased in supple dark brown leather, the loose dark tunic and the leather of his baldric crossing the broad chest I had already known he had. A dagger I hadn’t felt was sheathed and strapped flat. Seeing him now in the light of the chamber, where I could get a better look at him, left me unsteady.

“You’re staring.” One side of those full lips rose as he walked toward a narrow table by the entry to the bedchamber.

Feeling my cheeks warm, I ordered myself to pull it together. “You’re . . . nice to stare at, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

“I am,” he said without an ounce of arrogance. It was just a statement of truth. He withdrew a dagger from the baldric and then another from a sheath above his hip. There were dual flashes of milky-white blade before he placed them on the table. Lunea blades.

“That wasn’t the only reason I was staring,” I admitted after a moment. “I was . . . I was worried about you.”

An eyebrow rose as his hands halted along the other side of his waist. “For what reason?”

“I heard there was a violent battle in the gardens the night I last saw you. The ni’meres.” I watched him slide another blade from his other hip. “A few of the guards were killed.”

“Their loss was unfortunate. A damn shame that shouldn’t have happened,” he said, and he sounded genuine. “But I was not harmed.” A pause. “And I would not call that a battle, na’laa.”

“Then what would you call it?”

“An inconvenience.”

I blinked, thinking that something which resulted in scattered body pieces could not be considered just an inconvenience. But what I thought didn’t matter. I focused on him, opening my senses. I pictured that string connecting us as I asked, “Why . . . why did they come? Was it because of the other two Hyhborn?”

Nothing.

Nothing but the hum of the white wall.

He eyed me for a moment. “What do you know about the ni’meres, na’laa?”

His nickname severed the connection. The only knowledge that I gained was that he seemed unaware of what I’d been trying to do. “Not much. To be honest, I didn’t know there were any in Primvera. I only knew that they tend to leave people alone as long as we don’t go near where they are nesting.”

“That’s true, but they can also serve as guards of Hyhborn, even become loyal to some, which appears to have been the case for either Nathaniel or Muriel.”

“Did the ni’meres travel with them or . . .”

“Both were from Primvera,” he answered, brows knitting.

My stomach tumbled a bit. Lord Thorne had killed two Hyhborn and likely many ni’meres from the Court that could be seen from some parts of the property. “I imagine Prince Rainer will be displeased.”

“Actually, I imagine he’ll be quite the opposite.” He continued before I could ask why that would be. “So, your baron didn’t advise you of whose chamber you’d be entering?”

His change of subject not only failed to pass me by, but also frustrated me as my senses were currently proving to be of no help. “No.” I was momentarily distracted as he pulled free another dagger that had been strapped along his waist. My lips parted as he reached back, sliding a . . . a silver-hilted steel sword, the kind with the slight curve to the blade and often carried by the lawmen who patrolled the Bone Road that traveled all five territories.

“You’re lucky, you know.” Lord Thorne bent, his long fingers reaching for straps I hadn’t seen along the shafts of his boots. He unhooked another dagger, tossing it onto the table. It landed with a thump, rattling the other weapons.

“I . . . I am?”

“Yes.” He moved to the other boot, and yet another sheathed dagger came free. “You’re lucky that my men weren’t here when you entered. You would’ve never reached this space.”

I glanced into the antechamber.

“They’re not here. They arrived roughly around the time I had you pinned to the wall,” he said, and my gaze darted back to him. They had? “They’re gone now. We’re alone.”

“Oh.” That was all I could say as I watched him shove up the sleeve of his left arm, revealing yet another sheath along the top of his forearm. “How many weapons do you have on you?”

“Just enough,” he remarked, placing that smaller, sheathed blade on the table.

“But why? You’re a lord. You can— ” I stopped myself from pointing out what he obviously already knew. “Why would you need so many weapons?”

He laughed softly.

“What?” I asked. “What’s funny?”

“A better question to ask was how I was foolish enough to not realize I’d been drugged and impaled to a table in a dirty barn.”

I snapped my mouth shut.

A wry grin appeared as he moved to the bed, sitting on its edge. “No being is so powerful that they cannot become weak. Not even a lord, a prince, or a king.”

“Okay.” I thought over what he said. “Could you not just do the whole fire thing with your hand again?” I asked, and immediately recognized that was a question I never thought I’d ever ask.

“The whole fire thing with my hand?” He chuckled, watching me as he reached for his boot. He’d watched me this entire time. Not once had his gaze strayed from me as he unloaded his small arsenal. “I could summon the element of fire, but that takes divus.”

“Divus?”My nose wrinkled. “That is . . . Enochian? What does it mean?”

“It can be loosely translated into ‘energy,’ and spent energy must be replenished,” he explained, and it seemed logical that he spoke of feeding. “Plus, that would only kill one less powerful than the summoner.”

Meaning it wouldn’t have been so lethal against another lord.

“The mortal weapons aren’t necessary,” he continued. “But sometimes it’s more interesting to fight the fairer way when it comes to mortals.”

“Versus ripping their throats out?”

“That is also interesting.” He straightened, now barefoot.

I wet my lips nervously—

Lord Thorne’s gaze fixed on my mouth. White stars flickered through his pupils, and much like hares did in the gardens whenever I grew too close, I froze. His stare was . . . it was intense and . . . and heated. A flush crawled up my throat. I’d never been looked at like that before, not even by those who believed they were moments from joining their bodies with mine.

He came forward, his steps slow and measured. Precise in a wholly unsettling way. A shiver coursed down my spine. His gaze dropped. The sash at my waist had either loosened during our struggle or when he’d been moving his fingers over it, causing the cut of the neckline to be deeper, wider. The inner swells of my breasts were clearly visible, all the way to the darker shade at the peaks. Slowly, his gaze returned to mine. The blue of his irises seeped into the green.

“When you said the manor was your home, I figured you were a member of the aristo,” he noted.

I snorted. “Why would you think that?”

“Your clothing. Both times I’ve seen you, you’ve been draped in the kind of expensive cloth a member of a less fortunate class wouldn’t spend coin on.”

“You’re right about that,” I said. “But I’m no aristo.”

“I see.” His head tilted as his gaze flicked over my face. “And I can also see why you’d be a favorite of the Baron. You are very . . . interesting.”

The corners of my lips tipped down. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“It should be,” he said. “I’ve never found a mortal to be all that interesting or enthralling.” His head tilted. “Or amusing.”

My brows shot up. “Then I don’t think you’ve met many lowborn.”

“I’ve known far too many,” he replied as he went to a small credenza situated near a window. I wondered what his age was. He appeared as if he couldn’t be more than a decade older than me, if that, but Hyhborn didn’t age like lowborn, and there was a heaviness to his words— an ancient weight to them.

“So . . . you find lowborn boring?” I asked.

“That’s not what I said.” He picked up a crystal decanter and poured himself a glass of the amber liquid. “Would you like a glass?”

I shook my head.

He picked up his glass. “I find your kind’s natural instinct for survival in the face of insurmountable odds admirable. To be honest, I’m fascinated by how every second of every minute counts in a way I don’t believe they ever could for one of my own. Life is a bit of a bore for a Hyhborn. I doubt the same could be said about a mortal.” Facing me, Lord Thorne took a drink. “But one has never interested me beyond that fleeting fascination.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that as I let my senses reach out to him once again. There was nothing but that humming white wall. What if my abilities didn’t work on a Hyhborn?

He watched me from above the rim of his glass. “I realize I don’t know your name.”

“Lis.”

“Is it short for something?”

I didn’t know why, but I nodded. “Calista.”

“Calista,”he murmured.

My breath snagged at the sound of my name. Possibly because it was so rare to hear it spoken, as only Grady knew it, but the way he said “Calista” . . . He twisted his tongue around my name in a way I’d never heard before.

He took a drink. “It too is fitting.”

“It is?” I murmured, utterly confounded by the fact that I’d shared that piece of information— something that I’d kept to myself because it was the only thing that was purely mine, as silly as that sounded.

“Yes. Do you know what it means?”

“The name has a meaning?”

“All names do.” A faint smile appeared. “Calista means ‘most beautiful.’ ”

Warmth crept up my throat. “Oh.”

He inclined his head, then finished off the whiskey and set the glass down. “I would like a bath since I have such . . . fond memories of how we met.”

But that wasn’t how we met. Not really. “Okay?”

A faint grin appeared. “You have been sent to service me, correct?” He faced me fully. “Would drawing my bath not be a part of that?”

Yes. Yes, it would, and I felt foolish for not realizing that immediately. I opened my mouth as he reached back, grasping the neckline of his linen shirt. Whatever I was going to say died on my tongue as he pulled the shirt over his head and cast it aside.

I inhaled softly as I eyed his chest, the slabs of tightly coiled muscles of his abdomen, and the tapering of his waist above the band of his pants. There wasn’t even a faint scar from where the lunea spikes had pierced his skin. Instead, power vibrated from every inch of muscle. Energy coated those defined lines.

“Or we can skip the bath and go straight to far more enjoyable forms of service if you want,” Lord Thorne offered, snapping my gaze to his face. “I will not mind at all.”

I pivoted, hurrying into the bathing chamber without saying a single word.

His low, husky chuckle followed.

Good gods, what kind of favored courtesan dashed out of the chamber at the mere suggestion of sex? And that was obviously what he believed me to be. After all, it was how I presented myself to all of Claude’s targets, but I was acting like a bashful virgin.

What was wrong with me? It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him nude before. It just . . . Everything felt different now.

Cursing my reaction, and well, everything, I reached to flip on the light only to realize there were no powered lights in this space. I quickly set about lighting the numerous candles spaced on the stone ledges circling the oval-shaped chamber. Willing my hands to stop trembling, I went to the deep and wide tub in the center of the room. I cranked the water until it poured into the porcelain basin, using these moments to collect myself.

Who Lord Thorne was to me— not that he was anything to me— didn’t matter. Neither did the fact that he’d yet to recognize me. Nor did how . . . nice he was to look at, but that was rather a small blessing, wasn’t it? Or large blessing. The only thing that mattered was that I needed to get it together, to find some level of calm. Concentrate. Either Claude was too stoned to consider that my abilities wouldn’t work on a Hyhborn or he obviously believed my abilities could, and maybe he would know that, being that he descended from them, but . . .

But wouldn’t that also mean he knew another who could do the same as me? Which I was positive he didn’t.

Either way, I needed to get my intuition to work, to continue to prove how indispensable I was to the Baron. That keeping me comfortable was a priority, because if not . . .

The ever-present fear of returning to that desperate kind of life threatened to take root in my chest, but I squashed it. Giving in to it wouldn’t help. I shifted focus. There was this . . . this sense that I could get inside the Hyhborn’s mind. A knowledge I couldn’t back up but was there nonetheless. It was intuition telling me that I could. I just needed to figure out how.

But I did know what he’d shared with me already. That he was here because he’d been looking for something he’d believed that Muriel knew how to locate. However, I wasn’t sure if that was why he was here, at the manor. That was what I needed to discover.

Testing the water, I hoped Lord Thorne liked it warm as I cut off the faucet. I rose to retrieve a towel, to place it on the nearby stool as I said, “Your bath is ready, my lord.”

“Thorne,” he corrected.

I gave a little jump at how close his voice was. How one of his size could move so silently still was beyond me. Picking up a fluffy towel, I turned and nearly dropped it.

A wicked sense of déjà vu swept through me. Once more, Lord Thorne stood in the doorway, and he was completely, utterly naked, and I was transfixed by the display of smooth, sandy skin and taut muscle as my gaze lowered to his cock. My breath caught. He was thick and long, yet not even fully aroused. How could one fully take him—

All right. I needed to stop thinking. And staring. Maybe even breathing. Perhaps dying would be a good choice at the moment.

“Keep looking at me like that and I don’t think a bath will be what I’ll need.”

Heat exploded in my cheeks as I forced my gaze to his, hoping that in the candlelight he couldn’t see how red my face felt. I didn’t think courtesans blushed at a nude man.

Then again . . .

I glanced quickly at the thick length between his legs and decided that even Naomi probably would right now.

“Are you sure this is what you wish?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, I looked up at him. “I’m sorry?”

“To be of service to me?” Lord Thorne clarified. “When I’m not injured?”

“Yes.” I fixed a smile on my face. “Of course.”

“And you understand what that entails? That I will seek pleasure and I will feed on it?”

The way he said that made this sound like a business arrangement, and perhaps that was the appropriate way to think of this. After all, wasn’t that what this was? But it didn’t feel like that at all as I nodded.

He eyed me for several moments, his stare piercing, as if he could see right through me— through what was partially a facade. My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure he could hear it. I didn’t dare look away or let my smile falter, didn’t want to give away how nervous I was.

Then he strode forward, completely at ease with the fact that not a single stitch of clothing covered him. He briefly caught my gaze again as he stepped into the tub and sank into the water, giving me a nice view of a rather firm rear.

His ass truly was extraordinary.

Lord Thorne hummed a sound of pleasure, drawing my gaze down. He’d let his head rest against the rim of the tub. With his eyes closed, I let myself take in the elegant features of his face and the display of his body. It was truly unfair that any being could look as . . . as decadent as my— Nope. Damn it, he was not my anything. I really, really needed to stop with that nonsense.

Refocusing, I glanced around the chamber and spied the soap. “Would you like me to bathe you?”

“It would please me greatly if you would.”

I placed the towel back on the stool.

“And I know it will please you greatly to do so,” he added.

It would, and the fact that he remembered that annoyed me. Also excited me as I went to one of the numerous shelves. I picked up a bar of soap that carried the faint scent of lemongrass. Turning, I saw that his eyes were open to thin slits and both arms lay on the edge of the tub. He watched me closely as I approached him. I could feel this . . . this tension crackling between us, electric and alive. A flutter of unease and . . . and something else started in my chest and moved lower.

“Is the water to your liking?” I knelt on the marble floor behind the tub.

“Very,” he replied, and the flutter moved again at that one word.

I placed the soap on the small metal caddy beside me. Hands lathered, I reached for his arm.

He gave a little jerk when my hands touched him, like he’d done in the shower. Or I did this time. Maybe we both did. I wasn’t sure as he lifted his arm for me and I drew my hands up, hoping he didn’t notice the faint tremor in them.

Silencing my own thoughts was harder than before, but I managed. Like before, I . . . I heard none of his thoughts. There was a good chance I was simply too distracted once more by how hard and smooth his skin was. It was almost like granite. Did all of him—

Nope.

Was not going there.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Lord Thorne said, the roughness of his voice drawing my gaze from his arm. His head was still resting against the rim, eyes closed.

“Like what?” I asked.

“Anything,” he answered. “The silence allows my mind to wander to what your hands will feel like on my dick.”

My hands halted at his elbow for half a heartbeat as a sudden sharp, twisting motion pulsed through me. A little breathless, I resumed tracing the length of his strong arm. “Is that something you wish to prevent your mind from wandering to?”

The corners of his lips tipped up. “Not normally; however, I’ve come to learn that I enjoy you bathing me, and I do not wish to rush it.”

Skin flushing with a heat that now came from within, I slipped my hands over his shoulder and then down one side of his chest. “I’m not sure what to tell you, my lord.”

“Our paths have now crossed three times,” he said, and I mentally corrected him. Four times. Our paths had crossed four times. “Yet, I know little about you. You can start with something easy. Like are you from Archwood?”

“No.” My slippery fingers slid over the stonelike skin of his upper stomach.

“The Midlands at all?”

I considered lying but decided against it as I re-lathered my hands. “I’m from the southern lands.”

“The Lowlands?”

“Close about.” That was somewhat of a lie. Union City existed on the border of the Lowlands and Midlands. I dragged my teeth over my lower lip. “Where are you from?”

“Vytrus.”

My heart skipped over itself. Vytrus was the Hyhborn Court nestled deep in the Highlands, the northernmost territory of Caelum and incredibly far from the Midlands, and yet, we all knew of the Prince of Vytrus. He was said to be one of the most dangerous of Hyhborn, unpredictable and volatile as the lands that he protected, and the hand of the King’s wrath. The King’s . . .

I’m one of the King’s favorites, in case you’ve forgotten.

The breath I took went nowhere as I stared at the back of his head and a sudden sense of knowing filled me. “The Prince of Vytrus?” I whispered. “What is his name?”

He turned his head slightly. A moment passed. “You already know it.”