This schedule went on for days. Twice daily, Burn brought me food, and once every night, Ryker came, expecting me to break. I gave him the same answer I had the previous times. Silence. It made me wonder if he didn’t know how well Burn was feeding me. I hadn’t had to touch my hollyhoney stash since the first morning.
I’d been there five days. I’d slept better than I ever remembered. I could’ve done this time standing on my head. Except for one huge problem. Even after all that sleep, and all the food Burn had brought, I still felt horrible. I’d been telling myself for months that maybe if I could sleep and eat better, I might actually get better. I’d be able to heal whatever sickness I had. It wasn’t happening. I could feel the life draining out of me. I was getting worse. I’d thought the boredom would get to me, or the worry over my crew would drive me stir crazy. The truth was, I didn’t want to get up and do anything. I felt depleted, and I was surer than ever that I was dying.
Chapter 8
The door opened and Burn set a plate a couple of feet from where I was lying on the pelt. His eyes landed on me and stayed there. I’d caught looks here and there as he’d come and gone, but not like this. “You sick or something?”
If they knew I was dying, Ryker might kill me now. It was one thing to think you were dying, but being ready to die was a different animal.
“Why are you the only one that does these runs? You had the look of someone important, but I guess not.” And maybe I can annoy you enough that someone else brings my food next time. Someone a little less perceptive would be good.
He stood as he let out a short laugh. “You didn’t think that would really work, did you?”
I shrugged. I sort of had hoped.
“You going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nope.”
I reached over and grabbed the biscuit off the plate. I didn’t know who made those, but they almost made it worth being stuck in this room.
I leaned back and caught Burn glancing at my chest, his eyes narrowing. His gaze shifted quickly when he saw I’d noticed, so I let it go. Some men couldn’t help look at boobs, but as long as he stopped looking once I caught him, I didn’t hold a grudge.
He also didn’t strike me as the kind to force himself on someone. He didn’t exactly look aroused, either. I mean, I didn’t have a huge chest, but I did have one, and I was getting the vibe he’d seen something wrong, as if I had a third boob. Or maybe, even in the dimness, he’d seen the bruise on my chest.
He picked up the old dishes. It looked like he was going to leave, but he stopped. “I’ve got a deal for you. Tell me how you’re really feeling and tomorrow I’ll let you out.”
My eyes nearly rolled right out of my head. Couldn’t help it after that whopper. “Sure you will.”
“I swear on my magic that I’ll do as I say.” He held his hand up, a small flame on his finger. Then he held out his hand to me, offering me a pact. A pact between two Wyrd Blood was nothing to sneeze about. It was unbreakable.
He was bluffing. Had to be. I held out my hand and waited, expecting him to not go through with it.
“I swear if you are truthful, you’ll be able to leave if you want tomorrow.”
Holy magic, he’d said it. If I agreed, that was it. The magic would hold him to his bond, whether he wanted to change his mind or not.
I looked at our hands for a moment, shocked, and he cleared his throat.
“I will be truthful to you.”
I felt the crackle in the air as the pact took hold. We broke hands and I sat back on the pelt, knowing the magic would hold me to my vow as well.
“I think I’m dying.” That was the first time the words had left my lips, and it was something of a relief to just say it.
“Why?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m tired and feel like I’m dragging, but this feels like it’s something more. I couldn’t tell you why other than this overwhelming feeling that I’m running out of time.”
He didn’t say anything for a little while, but I thought he might’ve felt bad for me. He nodded and then left.
Chapter 9
I slept wrapped in the pelt along the wall. I didn’t wake up until Ryker opened the door. The candlelight hit the planes of his face, making him look harsher than normal.
The door was wide open behind him and probably would remain that way, as it always did. I resented the insinuation that I was so feeble compared to him it wasn’t a concern.
His eyes narrowed on my chest. “Have you taken a hit recently?”
So Burn had seen the mark. I’d suspected. Why were they both getting so weird about a bruise? Did it have something to do with this feeling that I was dying? Would he let me loose, as Burn had said? Maybe Burn had only agreed to let me loose in the morning because he knew Ryker would kill me before sunup?
I’d known people who weren’t nearly as hardened as Ryker, and I knew what every single one of them would do: decide I was worthless and execute me. It was safer than letting me go and possibly leaving himself open for me passing on information about what little I knew of their country or them.
I was sick, maybe even dying, but I wanted every last day I could squeeze out of this body. Time to play healthy. “I took a hit the day before I came here.”
He reached back and shut the door. It closed with a heavy thud, or maybe that was my heart beating out of my chest. He never shut the door when he came. He never brought a candle, either.
“Take your shirt off.”
Would he rape me before he killed me? I scrambled to my feet, getting tangled in the pelt for a moment as I did. I clenched my coat tightly to my chest.
He dipped his head. “I want to see the bruise. I’m not interested in you in that way. You’re a thief.”
Relief should’ve poured through me, and it did for half a second. Then I wanted to punch him in the face. And after I punched him, I wanted to melt into nothing because of the way he’d said that word. Thief wasn’t a good term on anyone’s lips, but the way he’d said it… My cheeks burned at the stacked insults. I didn’t hate him before, but I did now. He didn’t know what it was like to look at hungry eyes every day, as they hoped you’d bring them food and you couldn’t.
He placed the candle on the ground and then disappeared. He reappeared in front of me, yanking my coat open and my shirt down, just shy of my nipples. But he wasn’t looking at my breasts, and he didn’t appear to like what he was seeing.
I tried to zap him, but he didn’t seem to notice. What was that about? Why didn’t it work on him?
He let go of my shirt as he stepped back, oblivious to the fact I’d tried to hurt him. I stopped focusing on him and tucked my chin in to get a glimpse myself.
I grazed the darkened patch of skin with my fingers. A knot formed in my throat, and I felt like someone had dropped a stone in my gut. All the sleeping I’d been doing and the regular meals hadn’t helped at all. It was worse than ever. The bruise now spread outward and upward by four or five inches from where it had started at my heart. It might’ve been on the base of my throat, but I couldn’t see past my chin. No wonder Burn had noticed it.
My eyes went to Ryker. “Is this some sort of trick? Did you give me something or do something while I was sleeping?” How could it have gotten so much worse so quickly? It had to be them. A trick or something.
I stopped trying to look down at my chest and raised my eyes to his face.
His eyes met mine but then returned to my chest. “I need you healthy, not sick. I wouldn’t waste my magic on a thief. This isn’t a normal sickness. If I wanted you dead, I’d just snap your neck.”
I nodded, my gut telling me he was speaking the truth—about everything. I probably didn’t want to know how many necks he’d snapped, and I didn’t know what was more disturbing at the moment.
“What is it?” My voice was more fearful than demanding as I ran my fingers over the spot and up my neck, trying to get a sense of how far it had reached by touch alone.
It was bad, whatever it was. So bad that even Ryker, the man who didn’t seem to have any difficulty being brutal, was holding back. “It’s spread to the base of your throat. How far was it the last time you saw it?”
He waited for an answer I wasn’t sure of.