Curiosity got the better of me, and I found a bench to sit on, waiting to see what they were up to. Perhaps they were bringing supplies—stocking up all the women’s pavilions and whatever other pantries existed in Lucien’s stronghold.

Only...they weren’t bringing things in; they were taking things out.

The first day, two bodies wrapped in bloody sheets were removed—shoved unceremoniously into the back of a G-wagon. The second day, another three. The third day, just one.

Lucien, it seemed, had been telling the truth that he wouldn’t grant mercy to any of us. Judging by the six bodies, there were now six less women trying to kill or seduce him.

By the seventh morning, my emotions were rubbed raw.

Sleep—my one saving grace—had abandoned me, and every nerve stung with over sensitivity and stress.

Lying in bed and drenched in sunshine, something inside my skull tightened—an invisible fist around my throbbing, broken brain. Light fractured along the edge of my vision.

God, not now.

Please.

I sat up and leaned forward. Elbows on my knees, I pressed my fingers into my eyes. The old tricks: counting backward from a hundred, slowing my breath, visualising a different place—none of it helped.

The pain in my head grew worse.

Birdsong and the babbling stream outside became distorted and almost evil. A sharp pain lanced behind my right eye.

“Get it together, Rook. You can’t do this. Not here.”

Forcing myself upright, I staggered out of bed and lurched outside.

When I got this bad, I needed extra strength painkillers. And sometimes, even then, they didn’t work. But in here, on my own, with no access to help...

The sky swooped. My stomach lurched. The trees and flowers multiplied and melted into one. I made it two steps before my knees forgot what knees were for. My hands hit the grass, followed by the rest of my body. A dirty, familiar taste flooded my mouth—old pennies and sour lemons.

The world funnelled to a thin, echoey tunnel.

“Breathe,” I gasped. “Don’t pass out. Don’t—”

A shadow fell across me. For one panicked beat, I thought Lucien had finally come to finish me off. That he’d kill me while I hurt so badly. I supposed I should be grateful. Thankful that any second, this awful pain would end and this useless body of mine would stop torturing me, but a soft chuff and a cold nose came instead of death.

“Whisper.” My vision continued to splutter and bleed.

The panther circled, close enough that he warmed the air around me, his tail looping around my neck.

If I passed out, would he stop trying to be friendly and just accept me as his daily snack?

My headache burrowed behind my eyes, like a demon intending to hatch in my brain. Falling over, I curled up on my side. The move detonated a new pain—a white flash of light.

Whisper’s breath washed over my cheek. A deep, thrumming purr vibrated as he sniffed my neck where my pulse fluttered like a trapped bird.

“I’m fine,” I groaned, holding my stomach as it decided to join in the pain with shooting shards of despair. “I’m just...tired.”

I felt teeth on the back of my satin robe.

The material tugged, pulling up around my ears.

“Hey.” I choked as lights popped and I almost retched. “Stop that—”

The huge cat tried to drag me like his kill, tugging me across the lawn.

“Whisper!” I groaned as he dragged me boneless toward the courtyard exit. “Stop.”

My nightgown choked me. My body forsook me.

And the last thing I saw was the sun exploding into a golden firework.

It blinded me, burned me—

I passed out.

Chapter Sixteen

“OKAY, CALM DOWN. JESUS, QUIT IT.  What the hell has gotten into you, you bloody cat?”

That voice.

Rich and deep and husky.

Lucien’s baritone echoed down a very long tunnel, far, far away.

“Huh.” The sounds of footsteps stopped. “Did you kill her?”

My head ached and ached and ached.

Something touched my neck—cool and curt as if it didn’t want to touch me at all.

“So you didn’t kill her. Pity.” The touch went away. “Why did you bring me here if it’s not to clean up a corpse?”

A feline snarl followed by an echoing hiss.

“You expect me to help her?” Scorn replaced shock. “Why? What the hell has she done to you that you’ve gotten so attached?”

Another hiss, followed by a nudge.

“Ugh, you’re such a pain in my ass.” Lucien’s voice travelled from the crushing darkness, wrapping me in an even darker blanket. “Fine. I’ll try. You happy?”

Whisper hmphed.

Lucien grumbled, sounding part panther himself. “You’re an idiot, you know that, right? She’s just like the others. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The cat snarled quietly.

“Fine. Whatever. See if I care.” His shadow loomed closer. “I’ll help but only because you’re a fool.”

Whisper didn’t reply as strong, muscular arms hooked under my knees and shoulders. Lucien’s voice came again. “Don’t blame me if she still dies.” Adding under his breath, he muttered, “Even if I do manage to help her, I might just kill her tomorrow when she proves me right.”

The ground fell away. Heat pressed against my cheek as I fell into his embrace. His firm chest cradled me, his heartbeat skipping strangely like mine.

Dizziness tried to drag me under again, but I fought to stay lucid. I willed my brain to wake up. To open my eyes—

Fabric whispered as the soft mattress that’d been mine for over a week took my weight.

Everything blended into one as I teetered on the edge of awake and unconsciousness.

How long had I passed out?

Why did this feel different to a usual episode? Lingering and sticky and ever so hard to get free from?

“Do you think she’s allergic to something?” Lucien’s fingers pressed to my throat again, lingering on my pulse. The cool pressure travelled to my wrist, my temple, the spot behind my ear where pain bloomed like smoky fireworks.

Sitting beside me on the bed, his presence soaked into me. He cleared his throat, directing his words at me instead of his pet. “They don’t allow me to keep any medicine.” Disgust tainted his voice—I didn’t know if it was toward the people keeping him captive or to me. “I’d sooner just put you out of your misery and be done with it. But you seem to have done something to my cat.”

Leaning over me, he whispered, “If I find out you’re using him to get to me—if you dare hurt him—I’ll rip out your heart and feed it to him.”

A quiet hiss as if Whisper could speak English and had overheard Lucien threatening me.

“Fuck, you’re a pain,” Lucien cursed. “What the hell has gotten into you? She’s just a girl. Just another liar. Another murderous little pretender.”

Whisper didn’t respond and Lucien exhaled heavily.

Time paused or my mind skipped, but finally, his annoyance cut through my gluey fog. “Like I said, if she dies today, it’s not my fault. Don’t sulk just because you went and got attached to one of their little rats.”

Rat?

Who the hell is he calling a rat?

His hand lashed around my wrist, his thumb finding my pulse again. “I’m not a doctor and I don’t have anything to help.” His voice seemed directed at me again, returning to that callous ice. “And those bastards who shoved you in here don’t care if you live or die.”

The heavy bulk of Whisper’s warm velveteen body pressed against my side as if he’d lain down in protest. Two hundred pounds of panther hugged me like a living sandbag.

“You really are a traitor,” Lucien mumbled.

The cat huffed.

“Fuck it.” Lucien shifted. He sucked in a sharp breath as the bed shuddered. The panther went rigid beside me. “I’ll do what Whisper wants. At least if this doesn’t work, you’ll just be one more dead girl I don’t have to bother with.”