Chapter 28

ORINA

I t was easy to lose sense of time when in the safe room. There were no windows to allow me to track when the day turned to night, and even though there was a clock on the wall, for all I knew, five could be five in the morning or at night.

Hemlock kept me sane, dragging in a small table, a pack of cards, and a chess board. We played. We talked, and sometimes I even laughed.

But the moments of levity were few and far between, interspersed with Ezekiel’s waking moments in which his distress tore at my soul.

He screamed. He cursed. He cried.

Oh, how he cried.

Tears not for himself but for Arabella.

He was a man riddled with guilt, and it was obvious that Loviator had soon discovered that the best way to torture him was to hurt the woman he loved.

I found myself distracted after a while, my thoughts straying from the game to the vampire king who moaned in his sleep.

“Orina, it’s your move,” Hemlock said.

I exhaled and turned my attention back to the board. “He was with her for a century?”

It was Hemlock’s turn to sigh. He sat back and pressed his hands to his thighs. “Yes.”

I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to seeing him in such casual wear. Black joggers and a black tee and sneakers. He looked positively modern except for his eyes. There was age and wisdom in those eyes, the wisdom of an ancient, and sometimes it hurt to look into them.

“How long was Arabella with him there?” How long was I down there with him was what went through my mind. Me…I was her. Tortured and maimed, except my pain was forgotten. Those memories gone.

“I don’t know,” Hemlock said. “But I do know that there is no aging, no passing on from Loviator’s realm unless she allows it.”

Which begged the question of why the bitch had let Arabella die.

I left my seat and crossed to the bars, stopping close enough to watch Ezekiel sleep but not close enough for him to reach me if he woke. I’d fallen foul of that twice already. The only way to offer him physical comfort was when I slept, when he pulled me into his nightmare as a watcher and where, sometimes, I was able to touch his hand, hold it, hold him while he trembled and wept.

And Arabella? In those moments, she was gone, or maybe she wasn’t…Maybe I was her. It was hard to tell. But the last two encounters I’d felt as if we were getting closer to something. A moment: pivotal, important. But consciousness had pulled me away from him and out of the dreaming before he could share it with me.

“Orina.” Hemlock beckoned from the table. “It’s your move.”

I wandered over and put him in check.

He arched a brow. “You’re good at this.”

“I’ve had practice. Ezekiel’s door knocker plays a mean game.”

He tensed and looked up at me. “The door knocker?”

“Leo.” I smiled. “I named him. I spent a ton of time outside Ezekiel’s quarters when he was being evasive, and we kinda became friends.” And why was he staring at me with an odd expression? “What?”

“Orina. The knocker is not sentient enough to hold a conversation or play chess.”

“What? Then…how?”

His gaze flicked to the cell, to Ezekiel. My pulse hiccuped.

“No…”

“Yes. It’s the only explanation.”

I’d bitched about Ezekiel. Called him a pompous asshole and all sorts, and all the time he’d been the one speaking to me through Leo? Agreeing with me even. A few weeks ago, I’d have been pissed at him for playing me for a fool, but now all I could think was he’d played chess with me, kept me company…been a friend…

It explained why Leo had been silent the past week. Because Ezekiel wasn’t there to animate him. He was here. In a cell. In a nightmare.

A fist claimed my heart. I missed him and his pompous arrogance. “I need to go for a run.”

“Now?” Hemlock glanced at the clock. “Not a good idea.”

“Why?”

“It’s almost sunset and two days from the full moon. Ordell will be…prowling.”

The mention of my almost mate made my stomach flip, and I wasn’t sure if it was fear or longing.

“Riiight, no outdoors time. Got it. But I need to get rid of some of this energy so I can sleep.” So I could be with Ezekiel.

We’d discovered that sleeping aids meant that I slept too deeply for Ezekiel to find me and pull me into his nightmare, but I was too wired today and worried that natural sleep would be evasive.

“There is something we can do,” Hemlock said. “There are tunnels beneath Branwood. A whole network built to act as a hideaway or a hidden route into the castle. Ordell and I used one of the routes to check on Ariella the past few weeks. The lighting system still works down there. I can take you into what Ordell likes to call the run. It’s a winding route that circles the castle. We could do a few laps.”

I didn’t like enclosed spaces, and tunnels underground would be enclosed, but I’d done sewer cleanouts before for the Order and been fine so… “How wide are these tunnels?”

“Wide enough for us to run side by side and there still be room,” Hemlock said. “But we don’t have to go down there if you?—”

“No. I want to.” I glanced across at Ezekiel. “I need to.” To be tired enough to stay asleep long enough for him to tell me or show me what it was he needed to reveal.

Hemlock stood slowly and stretched his lithe frame, and I was suddenly struck by his superior beauty, the kind that paired well with his often condescending attitude. Except he hadn’t been that way. Not the past few days. The cold, distant male who’d been eager to keep a distance had been replaced by someone who’d become synonymous with comfort.

His eyes narrowed when he caught me staring, and a little frost seeped into his expression. “Don’t get any ideas, kitten. I’m here for him .” He pointed at his brother. “To keep you safe for him, because Ordell can’t be here to do it.”

A little of the warmth leached from the room with his words. “I know that, but…But it’s been nice.” Fuck, why had I said that?

His eye flinched. “Let’s get you tired out before you profess your undying lust for me.”

I’d have risen to that before, but not any longer, because despite what he said, I was certain that Hemlock was just as fascinated with me as I was with him. I shouldered past him and opened the door. “Hope you can keep up.”

He smirked. “Of course, you’ll need someone to carry you back when your limbs give way from exhaustion.”

I turned to face him, chin up loftily. “You know, big muscular guys usually have very little stamina.”

He stepped into my personal space and leaned in, gripping the top of the frame, his lips grazing my ear. “Oh, kitten, you wouldn’t be able to handle my stamina.”

Be still my beating pussy. I shoved his chest and spun on my heel to head up the corridor. “Well, come on, then.”

“Oreena…” he crooned. I glanced over my shoulder. He tilted his head in the opposite direction, lips flirting with a smile. “This way.”

Shit.

Whenever I started to believe that I had Branwood mapped out in my mind, another area was unlocked for me. This, the southernmost wing, was drafty and bare. The floors were without rugs, the walls without tapestries, and blackened marks marred the stonework.

“What happened here?”

“A fire,” Hemlock said. “Long ago.”

His tone was curt, the kind of tone that warned against further investigation. I let it go. For now.

He led me down a dark, narrow corridor, a flight of worn stone steps into darkness and musty chill, then through an arch that led to an iron grate with a door beyond it.

Hemlock pulled the grate back, and I winced at the scraping of metal on stone. The door swung in easily, and a gust of cold and surprisingly fresh air hit me in the face.

Hemlock ducked through, and I followed. There was a larger room beyond with two arches, more grates, and more doors.

“That’s strange…” Hemlock approached the arch to our left and fingered the padlock hanging from it. “I don’t recall there being a lock.”

“Ezekiel?”

“ Hmmm , maybe. He can be paranoid. Maybe he was worried someone would enter the castle without his permission.”

“Then shouldn’t he have padlocked the other arch?” I pointed at the one to the right. “Isn’t that the one that leads out of the castle?”

“I doubt Ezekiel recalls which is which. He should have padlocked both.”

“It’s all right. We can head back.”

“Head back?” He gripped the padlock, a mischievous smile curving his lips. “I promised you a run…” There was a frizz and pop, and the padlock dropped to the ground with a clunk. “And a run you shall have.”

Had he used his power? Shit. “You’re not supposed to do that.”

“It’s a negligible amount. I can handle it.” There was another padlock on the door, and he dispensed with it also. “Are you ready?”

My body itched to run, to stretch, to act. I wasn’t used to sitting on my ass all day, and that’s pretty much what I’d done the past three. “Yes. I’m ready.”

He pushed open the door, and a soft glow lit up the darkness in the tunnel beyond. “Then let’s run.”