Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin #1)(47)
Author: Gena Showalter

At the moment, though, he couldn’t recall a single one of his reasons.

Well, no, that wasn’t exactly true. He could think of one. She might not want him the same way he wanted her. Yes, she had once kissed him, but that could have been out of curiosity. Yes, she had fed him extra food, but that could have sprung from the goodness of her heart, not romantic feelings for him.

Now she would either feel obligated to him or hope to avoid upsetting him. She might let him do anything he wanted, but not out of passion.

He wanted her passion or nothing.

So, rather than plotting ways to romance her, he would be better served spending his time coming up with a new plan of escape. Yeah. That’s what he’d do. And maybe he would stop wanting, needing, craving, wishing, and hoping for what could never be.

Eighteen

Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come along.

—SONG OF SOLOMON 2:10

COOL WATER DRIBBLED ON Vika’s lips and slid down her throat, and food soon followed. The actions dragged her out of the darkness and into the light. She blinked open her eyes.

Though her vision was clouded, she was able to see Solo looming over her, a streak of blood under his eye.

They really were together, she marveled.

He was holding a bottle to her lips. She swallowed what he poured, never having tasted anything so magnificent, she was sure. She wanted to close her eyes and savor, but had no desire to look away from Solo.

His dark hair was in utter disarray, the locks sticking out in spikes. He had his head down, his chin pressed into his sternum. His lashes were lowered, hiding the crystal clear blue of his eyes and fanning out as prettily as any peacock’s tail. She had noticed the aristocratic slope of his nose and the sharp cheekbones the day she’d bathed him, but she had missed the lush, pink lips women would have paid a fortune to acquire.

He was rugged and capable and fearsome, and for just a second—or two—she wished she had told X she would do whatever was necessary to stay with Solo, that she would place her life in his hands and trust him to keep her safe. Now and always.

Wait. X. Alloris. The Altilium, whatever that was. The dream that hadn’t really been a dream, she realized now. As much time as she’d spent in her head throughout the years, she knew the difference between fantasy and reality, and there was no confusing the two in the light of day. She really had talked to X and Dr. E, the Epoto. They really were out there, somewhere, and they knew Solo.

X, who clearly loved him.

Dr. E, who clearly hated him.

Did Solo know they were there? That X considered him “a charge”?

Solo, who was so close she had only to reach out to touch him.

So few people realized there was another world around them, just as real.

“Hey, you,” she said.

Only silence greeted her.

Sharp disappointment cut through her. Her ears had stopped working, and that meant she wouldn’t be able to hear Solo’s voice, either. And oh, how she would have loved to hear him. He would have a low baritone, she would bet. Low and rumbling. Sexy.

Solo glanced up, blinked in surprise. “You’re awake.”

Again, silence.

The disappointment intensified, but she easily beat it back. She was alive, and she was with the best man she’d ever met. What did she have to complain about?

“I am.” She stretched her arms over her head, arched her back. The bones popped.

Heat exploded in Solo’s eyes, the blue suddenly reminding her of living flames. The callused hand at her nape eased her to the ground. He moved away from her, taking his delicious body heat with him.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

Not as good as I did a few seconds ago. “Wonderful, thank you.” Better than she had in years. “But how . . .” She scanned her surroundings. She was inside his cage, the bars all around her. Beyond them stretched the vast expanse of the Nolands. Random fires blazed, ribbons of thick smoke wafted, and green and black insects buzzed in every direction, even swarming a tree that had dared to survive, its limbs budding with life—but quickly withering.

Her father . . . he’d . . . he’d . . . caged her. The man responsible for her well-being, the man who professed to love her above all things, had placed her with one of his “animals” during a solar flare, leaving her vulnerable to the attack of the Nolanders.

She should not have been surprised, but she was. He’d done many, many terrible things to her, but this . . . Grief pierced her, wounding her far more than Matas’s fist. Matas, who must have shown Jecis the video.

She’d known her father was cruel, had known he enjoyed lording his power over her and everyone else. Had known he thrilled in punishing anyone who defied him, but . . . but, she was his little girl. His princess. His beloved.

Well, this would make leaving the circus that much easier. If she was ever allowed outside the cage, she thought, fighting a wave of panic. Was she to be one of the sideshows now? Was this to be a life sentence?

Was she to be treated as a lowly animal?

Oh, sweet mercy. All these years, she’d done nothing to stop her father from locking up innocent people. People who had experienced these very emotions, but without any hope.

She couldn’t free them while they still wore those cuffs, as she’d finally decided to do. She couldn’t allow Jecis to find them and bring them back. She had to stay, no matter the pain inflicted upon her, and she had to continue her search for the key.

First, though, she would have to get out of the cage.

Sorry, X, but I can’t pack up Solo and let him go just yet.

Solo tapped her gently on the shoulder to gain her attention. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

For her. Her. One of his tormentors. After everything, he still desired to help her. “I . . . I . . .” Wanted to cry. Wanted to sob and beg for his forgiveness. “I’m so sorry. I know there’s nothing I can say—”

“Vika,” he said.

“—to make things better, but I’ll try. I will. You have my word. I won’t let him keep you—”

“Vika.”

“—locked up anymore than necessary. The moment I’m free, I’ll look for the key more intently.”

He leaned down, getting in her face. “Vika!”

She blinked up at him. “Yes?”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, settling back on his haunches.

Confusion returned. He thought, what? That she was apologizing simply to keep him calm? Well, if that was the case, he wouldn’t believe a single word she uttered on the subject of freedom, would he?