Page 52 of Consort's Glory
The memories were always worse when she gazed into the darkness. She swore she could feel her own nails raking across her skin when the shadows deepened, threatening to drag her back.
Theodore turned his attention toward her, his gaze a very real pressure against her sensitized skin. Not that it’s ever too far from me in the first place.
He never did take his eyes off her for long, did he? Or his hands.
Margot knew that she should have panicked when he slung his arm around her, when he hauled her against his chest at the first sign of a threat, but she simply… couldn’t. Even as an internal voice warned her that he had to be a threat, that he was playing some complex game with her she could never hope to master, she could not manage even the whisper of a fight.
The truth, no matter how pathetic, was that Margot liked being touched by Theodore Solbourne. And this time, she didn’t even have the excuse of imbibing too much wine to fall back on.
It was such a foolhardy, outrageously dangerous impulse, but it was impossible to fight. She wanted him to touch her. She needed him to touch her. More than that, Margot got the uneasy feeling that with every touch, with every bone-deep craving forthat touch, Theodore was being humanized, mentally declawed.
How could he not be humanized when she felt his heart hammering under her cheek, his shuddering breath disturbing her hair? How could she look at him and see only a predator when shame bruised his dark eyes? How could she fear him, distrust him, when she spent her first good night’s sleep in a year in his arms?
Burn out is frying your brain. Theodore Solbourne is the alpha of the most predatory race on the planet. If he doesn’t already know your secret, he will soon. What will you do then? Ask for another cuddle?
“Elves don’t exactly enjoy it either,” Theodore quietly admitted. His palm, gloved and separated from her skin by layers of clothing, skimmed up and down her arm, sending bolts of electricity through every nerve ending. “We’re creatures of the light. There’s a reason we build up, not down.”
Yes, that was something she did know about elves. When Glory crafted the them from sunlight and precious stones, gifts from the heart of her husband Burden, the god on whose back all creatures lived, she didn’t stop to think how creatures made of light would react to shadow.
That was why they built skyscrapers and dazzling homes of glass; why the elves had been the biggest sponsors of stained glass artisans in the middle ages; why their skin and hair shone like oil in the light.
They were the light. Darkness was as foreign to them as the land was to the ocean races.
Still, they both had to go down into that basement.
“The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get out of your hair,” she said, trying to bolster both of them as they edged towards the threshold. Margot wasn’t entirely sure why she said it, but as soon as the words left her mouth, her stomach soured.
Theodore dropped his arm from around her shoulders to step in front of her, a small hum in his throat. “So eager to leave me, darling?”
He was teasing her, but there was real strain under the flippant tone. Did I… Margot blinked. Did I hurt his feelings?
She didn’t have time to think about it. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to think about it.
Theodore thrust a hand behind him, the muted black leather of his gloves standing out starkly against the gleaming silver of his claw-caps, and wiggled his fingers invitingly. “Hold my hand. We can be scared together.”
Margot’s heart leapt out of her chest to find a new home in her throat.
Without stopping to think about why it was a bad idea, she gave into the howling impulse to touch him, to keep the steady warmth of contact. She carefully placed her fingers into his.
They stepped into the dark together.
Angelique waited for them at the bottom of the staircase, her arms folded over her chest and her narrow-eyed glare fixed on the figure huddled in a bare corner of what appeared to be a storage room. The floor was dusty concrete, the air was cool, and worryingly haphazardly stacked towers of boxes filled almost every available inch of space.
A single bulb hanging from the ceiling barely illuminated the darkness, casting liquid shadows over everything and everyone except for the figure chained to a bolt in the floor, who sat in the most direct path of its glow.
Margot scented the blood before she saw it.
Her fingers spasmed around Theodore’s. He tightened his grip, enclosing her hand in butter-soft leather and warmth. A low, almost inaudible rumble raised the hair on the back of her neck. He’s purring again, she realized, startled by the way the tension bunching her stomach into knots immediately began to dissipate.For reasons she couldn’t fathom, her heart rate began to slow.
Margot licked her lips, scanning the bedraggled figure whose hands and feet were bound in cuffs and chained to the floor. His head was bowed and his shoulders hunched over his knees, so she couldn’t make out where the blood was coming from, but her nose didn’t lie.
She took half a step forward, her healer’s heart taking over. “He’s hurt. How badly? What are his injuries?”
“Oh, he could be hurt a lot worse,” Angelique began, her tone biting. “Roger is a were. A damn stupid one for all that he’s got a big brain, but a were nonetheless. That means he knows the rules. You step out of line, you suffer the consequences.” Her lips thinned with raw displeasure. “Were justice is pretty fucking clear about what happens when you go after one of our own.”
Theodore and Angelique shared a flinty look of agreement. “He’s lucky he still has a head on his shoulders,” he said, tone flat. “I would have taken it already.”
Margot shivered. She knew that in the UTA, justice took many brutal forms. When so many beings had the capacity to cause so much harm, it had to be quick and ruthless. But actually seeing it, hearing them talk about it so casually, made her gorge rise.
