“Oh, hell. I’ll give him a minute. But no more than a minute.” She couldn’t keep up her defenses for long. “And you’re coming with me.”
Dominick bowed. “Of course.”
They went down the hall. She swung open the heavy, padded door and hesitated on the first step, Dom at her back. Though she couldn’t see Mikhail, she could sense him. It was so eerily clear, the knowing of the bond. He was down there, he was agitated, in motion—pacing, she guessed.
You can do this. Just hear what he has to say and get out.
The door slammed behind her and the lock turned.
Chapter Thirteen
“Dominick!”
She threw her shoulder against the door, knowing it had a steel core and reinforced hinges. Outside, she heard the sound of a power drill, and an enormous amount of thumping. Dominick was securing it shut. It sounded like he had assistance.
The betrayal made her reel. Made her mind go terrifyingly blank.
Mikhail ran up the stairs. “He locked us in?”
Alya threw herself against the door again. Mikhail joined her. They hit it together and the wall shook, but the door held.
“What does he have out there?” Mikhail whispered, echoing her own thoughts. What would they meet if they broke through the door—a firing squad? The noises outside were confusing. She sniffed the air for hints, but a lot of people had been in and out in the last couple of nights. The inside of her nose was a little scorched, too. She shook her head. She had no idea.
Mikhail leaned close. Their foreheads nearly touched. Her skin prickled, waking to his nearness. “Show me your bolt hole.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your secret exit. What did you think I meant?”
Alya thought it best not to answer that question. “Oh. There isn’t one.”
Mikhail narrowed his eyes at her. “You spend all this time and money outfitting this place with…laundry lines and…and…rotisseries and iron maidens and whatever the hell you’ve got down here to play your twisted games, but you couldn’t even bother building an escape hatch? I’m glad I’m not marrying you, because you are an idiot.”
Alya jabbed her elbow into his stomach. He tumbled backward, but righted himself midair and landed on his feet at the bottom of the stairs. She marched down to join him.
“Who would he sell us out to?”
“I don’t know. It must have to do with Halverson. I can’t imagine. I trusted him implicitly.”
“Maya is in on it too. She brought me here.”
Even Maya, her best feeder. Trust no one. Ever. It was her constant truth, but it hurt. Her throat constricted. This was bullshit. It was all bullshit. Hiding her face from Mikhail, she bent to pull her knives from her boots. Mikhail jumped into a defensive posture. Smiling grimly, she tossed him one.
As he caught it, she realized he’d reclaimed his magic rope. It was the least of her problems now.
Hefting the knife he said, “So you trust me—or are we dueling now?”
“Hell if I know what’s going to happen in the next few minutes. But I figure you should be armed.”
He nodded his agreement and tucked the knife into his belt. Whatever happened next, she knew he’d fight well. Working together, the two of them could take any–– Don’t go there, Alya.
“I don’t keep guns down here.” She realized she was babbling to fill the silence. “But there are whips…and such.”
“That’s great. Maybe they’ll send down tigers and ponies.”
They turned in unison toward the stairs, toward the door. All was quiet. She said, “I suppose they could just leave us here to rot.”
“It would be the safest course. Unless they’re working for someone who wants our blood hot.”
“I’ve known Dominick for seven years. For the last three he’s been my first lieutenant. He’s had so many chances to betray me. I just don’t understand why he’d act now.”
“Have you had any disagreements lately?”
Alya snorted. “Only about you. He doesn’t approve of the challenge.”
Mikhail sat on her spanking horse and rubbed his chin. “Put yourself in his place. If we duel, and I win, he loses everything. He’d have to go searching for work under some other prince, most likely starting at the bottom again. If you win the challenge, he’s still unhappy. Why?”
“Because I’ve killed you? He has such a crush on you.”
Alya suppressed a smile. This was all deadly serious, of course, but his face went blank, as if she’d just lapsed into Swahili. He didn’t understand. Not that Dom was gay, but that anyone, male or female, would find him attractive. He’d been like that as a boy, and he hadn’t changed at all.
He dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand. “That’s absurd. I think he doesn’t want to work for someone cold enough to kill her destined mate.”
That hurt. More than it should, since it was true. “That’s you talking, not Dominick.”
“Dominick and I are honorable men.”
“And I’m not. That’s what you mean. Honorable!” Sputtering, she pointed her knife toward the locked door—and Dominick beyond it. “Honorable?” She pointed the knife at his nose. “Where is the honor in being cruel?”
He got off the horse, took a step toward her. “Oh? Have I hurt your feelings? I wasn’t aware that you had any.”
Self-righteous son of a bitch. “As if! As if you are the injured party here! You came to LA. You attacked me. Twice. You took my blood by force. Even so, I saved your life. Twice. And now you’re standing here talking to me about feelings? I know all about your feelings. I know what you want, what you dream about. Me. Bending me to your every whim.”
“Just how have you seen this?” His pale eyes fixed on her and he took a menacing step forward. She realized she’d just made a big mistake.
“You’ve been reading my thoughts. In depth. Are you bonded to me?”
Alya kept him back by knifepoint and tried to diffuse the truth. “I don’t need to be bonded to you to know how you think. You’re a prince. You’re all alike. We’re all alike. We take what we want. We don’t take anything by halves.”
“You’re afraid I’d devour you. I wouldn’t.”
“Of course you would. You couldn’t help it.” Even while he claimed he wasn’t a threat he was advancing on her, step by step.
“I don’t want your territory.”
“It would be yours anyway. The moment we married. And maybe you don’t want it, but the New York families will pressure you to take what is yours by right—”
“This isn’t about territory at all, is it?” He searched her face, intent as a dog on a trail.
Oh no, what is he seeing? She tried to close her mind to him, but it was getting harder all the time. They were too close together, their emotions too charged.
“There is only one good path out of this cellar. If we don’t find it, one of us will die. And I am certain I can kill you, Alya Adad.”
Alya sniffed.
In a low, strained voice, he added, “But I am also certain my life will not be worth living afterward.”
Her lungs seized up. She’d never heard anything so terrifying. He could not depend on her. She didn’t even know how to love. All she knew how to do was fuck and fight and scheme.
Reaching deep, she found the strength to hold on to her composure, to answer airily, “Nonsense. You’d be free. You could hunt again, go back to New York—”
“Don’t.”
“It’s true.”
“You insult us both. And you’re lying—either to me or to your self.”