‘No. I’m going to move her to one of the crew rooms, get her settled in for the night. Tell Fi I want her to research everything she can find on the comarré. This girl is one lie after another.’
Chrysabelle bristled at his accusation, even if it was accurate. She worked her wrist back and forth until the rope grazed her knuckles.
‘Once I get her down there, I’ll probably talk to her a little more, but then I’m definitely going to need you to lock me up. Opposite end of the ship, secure as you can. Having her on board right now is like storing lighter fluid next to open flame, but I can’t see sending her back out there.’
A change of scenery meant a good chance to escape. She tugged her hand free, chafing the skin but thankfully not breaking it. The scent of her spilled blood might push him over the edge. Her fingers flew to the second knot.
‘You got it.’
‘She’ll need food too.’ The doorknob clicked a half turn. Forget the food, she needed more time.
‘Don’t worry, Fi and I will hook her up.’
The second knot came easier. She bent to use her teeth. The rope tasted of salt and something oily. Her head snapped back as the knot came loose.
‘I’m serious about securing me. It has to hold. I don’t need another name on me or another ghost haunting me. Especially not a comarré.’
Frantically, she went to work with both hands on the rope around her ankles.
‘We won’t let you. I swear it.’
One of her fingernails broke with the effort to get the first knot undone. Faster, faster … The door opened. The vampire filled the passage, outlined by the light from the hallway. He shut the door and leaned against it. ‘Your heart rate sped up the minute I stepped outside. I figured you’d have all four of those knots untied by now.’
Ankles still tied, she lunged toward the desk and the Golgotha dagger. He reached it first, snatching it up. The sizzling started as soon as it made contact with his skin. Snarling, he pitched it away. A long red weal marred the length of his palm. He turned to face her.
She sank back into the chair, the first real trickle of fear running down her spine.
‘I’m done playing games with you, comarré.’
He gathered both her wrists into his injured hand, reaching down with his other to tear the rope from her ankles in one clean swipe. He yanked her to her feet, opened the door, and shoved her out ahead of him. ‘Run and I will hunt you down and eat you for dinner.’
She didn’t know him well enough to know if he was lying or not, so she went with not. Just in case.
Together, they marched down two flights of stairs and through numerous hallways and turns. She tried to memorize the labyrinth, but the ship was massive and completely unfamiliar territory.
He stopped her in front of a small door that locked from the outside. ‘In.’
She fumbled with the dead bolts, hating that her nerves were showing. He reached past her and popped the door open, brushing his cold arm against her shoulder. She stepped through, glad to put some distance between them.
He followed, ducking to fit, and flipped on the light.
She clutched her chest in mock surprise. ‘All this? For me? You shouldn’t have.’ The room held nothing but a narrow fold-down bunk and a wooden chair. The built in bookcases were empty save for a yellowed Russian newspaper.
He grabbed the chair and tossed it out the door, which bore an equal number of locks on the inside.
‘You’re right, that’s a huge improvement.’ She crossed her arms and did her best to look like she didn’t care. It was better than crying. Not that she would. Not in front of him. Comarré were built of stronger stuff.
He faced her, the mask of anger still firmly in place, those silver eyes bright and piercing. ‘Sun goes down in less than an hour, so you’re here for the night.’
‘People will be looking for me if I don’t return.’
‘I’ll put an end to the looking if they get this far.’ He moved to the door.
She took a step forward. ‘I thought you wanted to talk to me some more.’ Some perverse part of her wasn’t ready for him to leave.
‘I’ve had enough lies for one day. Maybe you’ll feel more truthful tomorrow.’ He ducked out. ‘Lock this behind me. Don’t unlock it for anyone but Doc or Fi. Doc will bring you food later.’
‘Lock myself in?’ For some reason, maybe the line of dead bolts on the outside of the door, she hadn’t expected that. She took another step forward. ‘In case you break out of your shackles and come after me?’ Adrenaline pumped through her, making her reckless. Pushing her to dare him. She no longer cared if he knew what she’d overheard or what power she possessed. ‘Afraid I might end up another name on your skin?’
He was suddenly in front of her, eyes platinum bright and feral with hunger. He inhaled, opening his mouth as if to taste her scent on his tongue. His lids half-shut, his fangs gleamed white as bone. Then he was out the door again, jaw tightening as he swallowed.
‘Yes. That. Exactly.’
Chapter Eight
Mal made the trek to the far hold on autopilot. The way there disappeared in a mind-numbing, head-spinning golden haze of summer sky eyes, sun-blonde hair, and honey-fragranced blood. Fortunately, she was now three decks above and at the other end of the ship. Far enough so he could pretend her perfume no longer curled around him like warm smoke. Far enough for the voices to stop chattering about her. Around the comarré they alternated between frenzied need and cowering panic.