12. Sloane

Chapter 12

Sloane

There is no way in hell I'm spending a full year rotting in the orc king's dungeon. "Unless what?" I ask.

From his predatory smile—sexy as hell, despite everything—I know what's coming before Dexari even says the words. "Unless you agree to be my pleasure slave."

Still, the words hit me like a punch to the gut. I sit there, frozen, as disappointment washes over me. I had let myself hope that maybe, just maybe, this orc king would be different.

Different from all the other alien males I've encountered over the years. Different from the ones who saw me as nothing more than a warm piece of meat to be used and discarded.

After Denari offered me freedom for an heir, I somehow thought his son wouldn't reduce me to something as demeaning as this.

I steel myself against the emotions threatening to overwhelm me—hurt, disappointment, anger, fear. I won't let him see how much his words have affected me. I've survived worse. I'll survive this too.

Taking in his chiseled features and infuriatingly handsome face, I know that sleeping with him wouldn't feel like punishment. But I'm not a whore.

Meeting his gaze, I force my voice to remain steady. "I'll take the dungeon," I say, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

Dexari hesitates, as if he regrets the offer. But that's not possible. He's just like all the others.

He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off before he can start. "I won't change my mind." My tone leaves no room for argument.

He nods. "If you do—"

"I won't," I interrupt again. I'm done with this conversation. Done with the false hope, done with the disappointment. But there's something I need from him before he leaves. "Can I have one more night in this room before you send me to the dungeon?"

Dexari studies me, his dark eyes searching my face. "Yes," he says. Then, "It does not need to be this way, Sloane."

I suddenly feel tired. Very, very tired. "It's always this way," I say quietly, unable to keep the weight of my experiences from seeping into my voice.

Always.

He gets up from the table to take his leave. "The servants will be back later to remove what is left from our feast."

"Can you have them wait until morning? I doubt I'll sleep much and might want a snack later."

Dexari nods. "As you wish."

I see something like regret flash over his face. But then it's gone, and he turns and walks away. The door closes behind him with a heavy thud, and I hear the key in the lock.

The silence in the room is only broken by the sounds of my own ragged breathing. If I'm going to escape, it has to be tonight. The guard shift change—that's my window of opportunity.

I retrieve the pocket knife from under my pillow and begin to formulate a plan. I visualize my route out of the palace and through the garden. The multi-tool's 3D map feature will help me with the rest.

I'll slip out, sticking to the shadows and avoiding any main paths. I think I can find my way to the tall stone wall surrounding the kingdom.

But then what?

Exiting through the main gate is out of the question—the guards will never let me pass. The perimeter wall is high and regularly patrolled. If I'm going to scale it, I need to be fast.

Doubt creeps in. Scaling the wall will be impossible without climbing gear. And last time I checked, this suite was fresh out. But I do have the multi-tool. Maybe I could use it to make something.

Before I can explore that idea further, I hear a familiar chirp outside the window. Zephyr swoops into the room, clutching something in his talons. He drops the object in front of me with a proud trill, and I pick it up.

No fucking way.

It's a five-prong grappling hook attached to a coil of rope. Perfect for repelling down the side of a building, retrieving keys dropped down a well…or scaling kingdom walls.

A slow smile spreads across my face. "Zephyr, how did you know this is exactly what I need?"

He chirps again and flies around in circles before landing on the dining table. I know what that means and fill my empty plate with a variety of foods from the cold buffet table.

"Enjoy your dinner, little guy," I whisper as I put the plate in front of him. "You've earned it. Now I've got the tools I need to make a break for it."

Freedom, here I come.