“Not even close.”
He wasn’t a historian, but he’d thought that back in those days, when lifespans were short and girls married young, Idess would have been a rarity. It was probably rude to ask, but it was also rude to chain someone to a bed, so fuck it.
“Why not?”
“It’s a long story.”
He tugged on his chains. “It appears that I have nothing but time.”
Idess shifted, but he had a feeling that no matter how comfortable she got next to him, she wasn’t going to get comfortable with this subject. He’d definitely poked a bruise here.
“At the age of sixteen, I was given as a gift to the son of a nobleman.”
“But wouldn’t you have to be of noble birth or something to marry?”
“It wasn’t to marry.”
Her pained tone set his teeth on edge. “For sex? Like, a prostitute?”
“As a mistress. I was considered very beautiful,” she said, without an ounce of pride. “My virginity was the gift. I was with him for two years, but when he took a wife, I was sent to a cruel friend of his. If I pleased him, I was to become either his mistress, or a toy to share with friends.”
“Your master was a dick.” Man, he wished he could go back in time and kick that guy’s ass. Hard.
She laughed. “Before he could touch me, my brother Rami came for me, and the friend died a suitably horrible death in battle a few years later.”
He purred with approval. “God, I love a bloodthirsty woman.”
“Well, you are an assassin.”
“I wasn’t always.” A note of defensiveness crept into his voice. “I’m more than a killer.” Though, was that true? Even he doubted his own words. He’d been nothing but a killer since the day he got his gift. And when he’d gone to work for Detharu, his killer status had only been secured. He’d even earned the title of First Assassin. How special. Yeah, he was real proud to be so good at offing people that he’d won an award.
He was such a piece of shit.
“How are you more?” There was no condemnation there. Only curiosity, and he couldn’t answer. Her hand came up to his chest, right over his slave mark, and a sweet, balmy heat broke out over his skin. “Your master… he can summon you through this, yes?”
“Yes,” he said hoarsely. He concentrated on bringing his libido down, concentrated on the odd cooling sensation in her hand. It wasn’t working. “He’s been trying all day.”
Her hand froze, and her nails dug into his skin. The luscious pleasure-pain made his breath catch. “What will happen if you don’t go?”
“The pain will gradually get worse, until I need to go or suffer in agony.”
She sucked in a startled breath. “How long?”
“Depends on how bad he wants to see me. And I’ll tell you right now that he’s got a real burr up his ass about it.”
She closed her eyes and bowed her head. Her ponytail slid around, brushing his waist, and man, what he wouldn’t give to free her hair, let it shroud his body in silk as she kissed her way down. “How bad is it? Right now, I mean.”
“It burns,” he said, and it wasn’t a lie. He felt like he had a hot iron on his chest. “But your hand… it’s cool. It feels good.”
She lifted her head. “I can get you ice.”
“Doesn’t work.” He covered her hand with his—his right hand, partly because his left was in a precarious position in the loose-fitting cuff, and partly because he could touch her with his dermoire-marked hand as long as it was still braceleted in the Bracken Cuffs. “But this is helping. I don’t know why. Your touch is magic.”
He was supposed to be seducing her. Supposed to be making her believe she was beautiful and perfect and sexy. Supposed to be doing all of that to get the fuck out of here. But suddenly, he wanted to do it because she was all those things. He brought her hand to his mouth. Though his chest began to burn again, it was worth the discomfort to be able to brush his lips across the soft skin of her knuckles. “You make me burn far more than anything my bond can do.”
She made a small surprised sound, just a whisper of air, a catch of her breath. “If you’re trying to seduce me, I told you it won’t work.” And yet, she was breathless, and he could scent her spicy arousal. When she shifted, the neckline of her top gaped, revealing deep cleavage that was at once too much flesh, and not enough.
“Oh, it’ll work,” he drawled. “It just won’t get me free.”
She bristled. “Then what is your plan? You have to have one. I would.”
He rocked his head back against the wall and watched her through half-lidded eyes. “Come closer.”
“So you can try to hurt me? I don’t think so.”
“No,” he murmured. “So I can touch you. Everywhere.”