Burning Dawn. Gena Showalter
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understand, he couldn’t control.
Control was more important to him than water.
But he wouldn’t destroy the girl—he didn’t want to destroy her. Not after everything she’d done for him.
He could send her away, he supposed. But she would have zero protection.
Pass.
He could frighten her and—
No. Pass. She would scream.
Once, a screaming female would have aroused him. Now? When the slave girl did it? He experienced only rage.
At least he understood why her voice was so raspy. At some point in her life, she had screamed to such a degree, she had permanently damaged her vocal cords.
“I’ve placed guards around the courtyard.” Bjorn’s statement drew him from his thoughts. The warrior entered the bathroom behind Xerxes. “They will alert us when someone dies.”
Always these men supported him, loved him. Never did they judge him or push him for details he wasn’t yet ready to share. No man had ever had better friends.
Little wonder Thane was willing to die for them.
“Thank you for coming for me,” he said quietly.
“We will always come for you.” Xerxes walked over and shut off the water. “We heard about a Sent One who wreaked havoc in a Phoenix camp weeks before, and so we were in the area, looking for you. But they hid you well. If you hadn’t told us where you were...”
All Sent Ones could direct their thoughts into the minds of their brethren, so, the moment Thane had come to his senses and realized his location, he’d used the mental connection to shout for aid.
“Time to dry off,” Bjorn said. “You’re already waterlogged.”
As Thane stood, Xerxes offered him a towel.
He draped the cloth around his waist, a lance of anger cutting through him. Kendra had dressed him in a loincloth and forced him to parade around her people, a target for any wayward caress.
And her people had caressed him.
“Have Kendra’s robe removed,” he demanded. “Put her in a bra and panties.” Tit for tat. No mercy.
Xerxes nodded. “As soon as I leave you, I’ll see that it’s done.”
To distract himself from his black mood, Thane studied the opulent en suite adjoined to his bedroom. Steam coated the air, curling to the domed ceiling, with its elaborate chandelier hanging in the center, glistening with a unicorn’s petrified teardrops. The walls and floors were made of the same gold-veined marble. Towering archways framed large, alabaster lions and led into a closet—the one storing his...toys. A gilded mirror hung over a sink carved from a melding of rubies, sapphires and emeralds.
He’d designed the space for the women he bedded. And yet, he had never allowed a single woman inside it. Not even Kendra.
What would the human think of the decor—
He cut off that line of thought before it could tempt him. Her opinion didn’t matter.
In the living room, he eased onto the couch and, after collecting a tray of cookies and breads, Bjorn settled at his left. Xerxes poured him a glass of whiskey laced with ambrosia before claiming the spot at his right.
Thane accepted an offering from both men with a nod of thanks. He devoured the shortbread and drained the contents of the glass in a lone gulp.
“You have questions, I’m sure,” Xerxes said, settling back with a cookie of his own.
Grown men with a dessert fetish, he thought with the first stirring of amusement in his chest. Domesticated manimals in their natural habitat. Nice.
“Many questions,” he said, but he would start with the one that tortured him most. “How are you here, Bjorn?” Thane wasn’t the only one to suffer tragedy lately. “Before I ended up in the Phoenix camp, I watched you disappear in a dirty alley.”
A fateful night. Just before Kendra had died and risen from her ashes, effectively enslaving Thane, he and his friends had fought a new breed of demon. Shadows that slunk along stained, cracked concrete, hungry for more than human suffering...hungry for flesh.
Bjorn had been injured, the wound oozing some kind of black goo. Then he’d vanished.
Thane and Xerxes had been frantic, but before they could search for the warrior—the other piece of their hearts—Kendra had opened her eyes and commanded Thane to journey to the Phoenix camp.
He’d obeyed unquestioningly.
Oh, Kendra. The things I’m going to do to you...
With a new slave band hooked around her waist, negating her powers, she was as helpless as he had been.
“I can’t tell you what happened, or explain what will happen to me in the coming months,” Bjorn finally said, and Thane heard the torment in his voice. “I’m avowed to secrecy.”
He swallowed a curse. Sent Ones never broke their vows. Physically, they couldn’t. Not even degenerates like them. Thane knew Bjorn, and knew his friend never would have offered one unless those he loved were being threatened.
This was another crime to place at Kendra’s door. Had Thane been around, he might have found a way to save his friend from his current fate. “If ever I can help you...”
“I know,” Bjorn said, sad now. “I always know.”
I must do something. Anything that affected his friend’s happiness affected his.
“Have the demons responsible for Germanus’s death been found?” he asked, voicing the second most pressing subject. Before Kendra, hunting the six fiends who’d ambushed and decapitated the former king of the Sent Ones had been his only duty and his greatest privilege.
“Unfortunately, no,” Xerxes replied.
So much to do. Seek answers for Bjorn. Find the demons. Punish the Phoenix. Talk to the slave girl.
He looked forward to the latter most of all, and that irritated him. Looking forward to an interaction with a specific female was the same as looking forward to a specific meal. He’d eat, and it would taste good, but then he would be done.
He did not need a clinger situation.
Maybe it’d be best to avoid her now and always, his questions forever unanswered.
A sharp lance of...something...shot through him—it wasn’t regret, couldn’t possibly be regret—but he forced himself to nod. He would avoid her. And it would be easy. Within the hour, he would have forgotten she was even here.
Motions clipped, he leaned over and grabbed another cookie. To lighten the mood, he said, “I don’t have to ask what you were doing during my absence, Xerxes. Clearly, you were lost without me.”
“Clearly,” Xerxes said, his lips quirking at the corners. “Oh, but before you adjourn to your room, I’ll need a few minutes to move my things. I used the opportunity—I mean tragedy—of your absence to my advantage.”
Ha! “Did you turn it into the knitting room of your dreams?”
Bjorn wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “If you’re into knitting now, I want a sweater for Christmas.”
“Well, too bad,” Xerxes said. “You’re getting a muzzle.”
“A sweater muzzle? That’s effective,” Thane quipped. “I want socks.”
“To hide your hooves?” Bjorn asked casually.
Funny man. “I’ll have you know I have beautiful feet.”
“If you wax poetic about the great beauty of your toes, I’ll heave.” Xerxes clutched his stomach in mock disgust.