Shadow Kin by M.J. Scott Page B

dropped open. “Did this brother who thinks you’re so lucky drop you on your head when you were small perhaps? No one leaves Lucius.”
    His mouth quirked slightly. “There’s always a first time.”
    “Unlike you, I have no desire to die. Now give me that, and go. Forget you ever came.”
    “And spend every night wondering if I’m going to wake up with your blade at my throat?”
    “If you don’t leave, you won’t have to wonder. You’ll be dead.”
    “Come with me.” His face was now devoid of humor.
    I could only stare at him as the words hung between us. Go with him? Did he truly live in a world where he thought there was any way under the sun or moon that such a thing could end well? “Then we’d both be dead. Go.” I held out my hand.
    Simon ignored my gesture. “I’m serious. You could leave this place.”
    “And what exactly is it that you think I would do in the human world? I doubt anyone would welcome Lucius’ former assassin into their lives.”
    “Acceptance takes time. But it can be earned.”
    I couldn’t decipher the expression on his face other than he seemed to be serious. I frowned. “It’s hard to be accepted if you’re dead. Lucius will not let me go. You need to leave.”
    He pressed his lips together, then sighed. For a moment he looked almost guilty, his hand toying with the disc at his neck, but then he straightened, face clearing, and passed me the dagger. As I took it, his other hand snaked out and circled my wrist. It hurt, but beyond that, it felt good. Warm human skin against mine. I wondered if I felt cold to him. I hoped so. Anything to make him stop making me want things that could never be and go away so my world would return to normality. To safety.
    “Come with me,” he repeated.
    “Perhaps there was a whole tribe of brothers who damaged your brains repeatedly?” I pulled tentatively, braced for the inevitable jolt of pain, hoping he’d release me. His grip stayed fast. “You don’t know me, sunmage. If you did, you wouldn’t want me anywhere near you.”
    He shook his head. “You’re wrong about that.”
    “What you think doesn’t change anything. Go.”
    “No.”
    “Come with you and what, warm your bed? Is that what you want?” I didn’t know what else he could seek to gain from me.
    He looked away—just for an instant—and I knew I’d scored a hit. He wanted me. Foolish. He should learn to think with his head. If he knew the truth about me, knew my dirty little secret, he wouldn’t want to touch me.
    “I want to help you.”
    The words hurt. I was trying to be logical, but he kept slipping under my defenses. “You can’t. So please go.” We’d been talking too long now. Sooner or later Lucius would call for me. He loved to flaunt me, his tame wraith, his blade over his enemies—particularly when he knew I didn’t want to be flaunted. It would be typical of him to call for me tonight when he knew I would struggle to hide what he’d done to me.
    I twisted my wrist, trying to make Simon let go. Instead, I only managed to succeed in making my sleeve slide from beneath his hand, baring my forearm and the bruises starting to bloom against my skin.
    Simon froze. Then his hold gentled. His other hand started to rise, then dropped back. His eyes blazed heated blue. “What did he do to you?”
    “How do you know that isn’t from you restraining me?”
    He leaned closer, studying my wrist. “I was careful and I know fresh bruises when I see them.” His voice had deepened again, rumbling with anger. “What. Did. He. Do?”
    “You don’t—”
    From outside the chamber came a crash of breaking glass followed by an earth-shattering roar.
    Simon’s grip slackened, his hand lifting to tap the disc at his neck again. “What was that?”
    I pulled my hand back, sheathing my dagger with the ease of long practice. Another roar shook the air. “It’s probably Pierre Rousselline and his pack. Trouble. You really should go now.”

     
    “I’m