Chapter 2

Now he had locked her inside his private wing.

No witnesses. No cheering crowd. No one to stop him if he decided to find out how much pain she could take.

Vera pressed her back to the stone wall and smiled through the copper taste in her mouth.

"You ask questions like a man who already knows the answer."

"I know you're lying. That's not the same thing."

"Close enough for a commander."

His jaw tightened.

Good. She needed him angry. Angry men rushed. Rushed men made mistakes.

Rafe took one slow step toward her. His boots struck the floor in a hard, steady beat. He'd removed his ceremonial cloak, but the black uniform beneath it still carried the silver wolf of the northern command.

Blood marked one cuff where her blade had cut him before he broke it.

Vera glanced at the stain.

"You missed a spot."

"You missed my heart."

"I was interrupted."

"You were caught."

"By a man hiding behind six guards and a dozen court hounds. Don't brag too loudly."

His mouth tightened. Not quite a smile.

Rafe Valko didn't smile at people. He showed teeth when he wanted them afraid.

Those teeth had been close to her throat in the court. She could still feel the heat of his breath on her skin. Still hear him telling everyone she belonged to his custody now, like her life was something he'd won at auction.

Her fingers curled against the wall.

The red debt mark burned beneath her skin.

Rafe noticed.

"Stop touching it."

"Stop watching my hands."

"Give me a reason."

"You already have one. You think I'll carve the mark out."

"You won't."

"Try me."

He moved before she finished speaking.

His hand caught her wrist and slammed it above her head. Stone scraped her knuckles. His body came in close, pinning her without crushing her.

There was no room left between them except the thin air she could drag into her lungs.

Rafe smelled like steel, smoke, and sharp winter soap. His skin was warm against hers. Too warm for a man whose face looked carved from ice.

"You like making threats you can't keep," he said.

"You like touching prisoners when they're handcuffed."

"You're not handcuffed."

"You put a blood contract on me. That's worse."

His thumb pressed over the red rune in her palm.

Pain shot up her arm.

Vera sucked in a breath. His eyes dropped to her mouth.

There.

A mistake. Tiny, but real.

"Did that hurt you too?" she asked.

His gaze snapped back to hers. "What?"

"The contract. When I resist it."

"It hurts you because you owe a debt."

"That's not what I asked."

"You don't get to ask anything."

"Then why are you answering?"

His grip tightened.

The rune pulsed between them. Red light slipped through the lines beneath her skin, bright enough to stain his fingers crimson.

Rafe stared at it for half a second too long.

Vera leaned closer. Her shoulder brushed his chest.

"You don't know how your own contract works," she whispered.

His breathing changed. Just once. A rough pull through his nose.

"I know enough."

"No. You know what the council told you. That's different."

"You think the council sent you?"

"I think you're afraid they did."

His free hand rose and caught her chin. His fingers were rough. Warm against her jaw.

"Be careful."

"You first. You dragged me into your rooms, locked the door, and started asking about the people who want you dead. That sounds less like confidence and more like panic."

His thumb brushed the dried blood at the corner of her mouth.

"You tried to kill me in front of my court," he said. "You don't get to call me nervous."

"I got close enough to draw blood. That's not nothing."

"You got close because I let you."

"Liar."

The word fell between them.

Rafe's eyes went flat.

Then he shoved away from her.

The sudden space made her knees weak. She hid it by rolling her shoulder and stepping toward the center of the room.

His private wing had been built to keep people in. Thick stone. Iron locks. No low windows. A narrow table sat beneath a wall of weapons sealed behind black glass.

Vera's eyes touched the display.

Rafe caught it.

"Don't bother."

"I wasn't."

"You were counting."

"Three guards outside. One at the stairwell. Two in the hall."

"Four."

Vera looked at him.

He tipped his chin toward the ceiling.

"One above us. Archer. Silver bolts. If you reach the door, he shoots your knee first. If you keep running, the next bolt goes through your spine."

"You keep an archer above your bedroom?"

"I keep an archer above every room I use."

"How romantic."

"You won't be sleeping anywhere else."

The words struck harder than they should have.

Vera forced out a laugh. "You think locking me in your room makes me yours?"

"The contract does."

"The contract is a trick."

"It's a legal bond recognized by every territory north of the Gray River. You owe the fortress a life-debt. I claimed payment."

"You claimed a prisoner. Don't dress it up."

"Call it whatever helps you sleep."

"I don't sleep in enemy territory."

"You will now."

He reached for her shoulder.

Vera slapped his hand away.

His eyes dropped to the movement. His voice turned quiet.

"Stand still."

"No."

"Vera."

The way he said her name stopped her.

He shouldn't know it.

The name she'd used in court belonged to a dead woman from the western border. Vera Thorne had been buried with her family years ago, according to every record in the realm.

Rafe saw the question on her face.

"You look surprised."

"I'm surprised you can read."

"Your fake identity was filed under a bad seal. The clerk who made it has a lazy hand."

"And you still let me into your court."

"I wanted to see what you'd do."

"You wanted to watch me fail."

"I wanted to know who was desperate enough to send you."

He grabbed the edge of her coat and pulled it open.

Vera swung at him.

Rafe blocked her fist, twisted her wrist, and turned her into the table. Her stomach hit the hard wood. His chest pressed against her back a second later.

The position was humiliating.

Worse, it worked.

"Get off me."

"Where's the rest of your steel?"

"Go to hell."

"Already been there. Keep talking."

His hand moved over her waist, searching beneath the fabric.

Vera jerked against his hold. "Don't touch me."

"You brought weapons into my court. I'm checking for them."

"You're enjoying this."

"You think I enjoy cleaning blood off my floor?"

His fingers found the knife strapped beneath her ribs.

He pulled it free.

"One."

"That was a gift."

"From the assassin who trained you?"

"From someone with better manners than you."

He tossed the knife onto the table.

His hand slid lower.

Vera went still.

"Don't."

Rafe's breath brushed her ear. "You have something else."

"Take your hand off me."

"You want me to believe that?"

"I want you to keep your fingers attached."

"You think you can threaten me while I'm holding you down?"

"I think I can do a lot of things while you're holding me down."

The silence pulled tight.

His hand stopped at her thigh.

Vera felt the heat of him through their clothes, the hard line of his body, the strength locked in the arm beside her head. He could break her wrist. Call the guards. Drag her back to the court in chains.

Instead, he stayed close enough for his mouth to almost touch her ear.

"Careful," he murmured.

"You keep saying that like you want me to be careless."

His fingers found the dagger strapped to her boot.

Rafe drew it out in one smooth motion.

Vera's breath caught.

He held the narrow blade between them. Dark metal. A thin coat of poison along the edge.

"Two."

"You missed one."

"I didn't."

His gaze flicked toward the braid over her shoulder.

Vera smiled. "That's what I thought."

Rafe caught the end of her hair and tugged her head back.

Her throat opened. His chest pressed harder into her back. His mouth came close enough for his breath to warm her skin.

"Don't make me search you again."

"You haven't searched me properly once."

His eyes narrowed.

Vera shifted her weight and drove her heel toward his knee.

Rafe caught her ankle before it landed.

He lifted her leg just enough to wreck her balance. She grabbed the table with one hand. His fingers locked around her ankle, strong enough to hurt through her boot.

"You have a terrible habit of proving my point," he said.

"Which point? That you're a bully?"

"That you don't know when to stop."

"Stopping is for people who plan to lose."

"You already lost."

"Then why are you still afraid of what I might carry?"

His hold tightened.

The heat in his eyes changed.

Not anger alone. Something sharper. Something he didn't want her to name.

He released her ankle and shoved her upright.

Vera spun at once, but he caught both her wrists and locked them against his chest.

The move trapped her between him and the table. Her breasts brushed the hard front of his uniform with every breath. Rough fabric dragged against her shirt. His hand covered both of hers.

"You keep reaching for weapons," he said. "Tell me what you're planning."

"I'm planning to make you regret not killing me in the court."

"You think I should've killed you?"

"Would've saved us both time."

"No."

The answer came too fast.

Vera looked up.

Rafe's face was close. His pupils had widened, silver rings sharp around the dark.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because I don't waste useful things."

"There it is. I'm a thing now."

"You tried to put a blade through my heart. You don't get offended by manners."

"You don't get to call it manners when you put a leash on my blood."

"It's not a leash."

"Then take it off."

He said nothing.

Vera's smile thinned. "Right. That's what I thought."

Rafe released one of her wrists and reached inside his uniform.

He pulled out a small glass vial.

The liquid inside was clear, touched with silver.

Vera stopped breathing for half a second.

The poison in her veins flared hot.

Rafe caught her stare.

"You know what this is."

"A pretty bottle."

"Try again."

"You keep carrying medicine into a room with a poisoned woman. I assume it's for you."

"You're the poisoned woman."

Her fingers twitched.

Rafe lifted the vial close to her face but kept it just out of reach. The glass stopped inches from her lips.

Bitterness filled her mouth.

"Antidote," she said.

"Part of one."

"Give it to me."

"Who sent you?"

"You first."

"You don't have the position to bargain."

"And yet you're standing here bargaining."

He rolled the vial between two fingers.

"One answer."

"No."

"Then you don't get it."

"Keep it."

The poison twisted beneath her ribs.

Her knees dipped.

Rafe caught her elbow before she fell.

His grip came fast, hard, and careful all at once. He pulled her against him. The vial knocked against her chest.

"You should've taken it," he said.

"I should've stabbed you while you were distracted."

"You can barely stand."

"Still enough to kill you."

"You're lying."

"You're hoping."

His face hardened.

Vera shoved away from him, but the poison dragged her strength down. She caught herself on the table and forced her fingers to stop shaking.

Rafe set the vial beside her hand.

Not in it.

Close enough to touch.

Cruel bastard.

"What does the contract say?" she asked.

"You signed it"