Shadows and Light by Cari Z. Page B

desperately hard. There was no way Xian could have missed it, Rafael had been naked. He’d squeezed his eyes shut with shame, sure he was doing something wrong, and sure his master would be angry with him for not controlling his body’s response better. Xian had stepped up close to him, cupped his face in his hands and said softly, “It’s all right.” Then he had kissed his forehead.
    Rafael came to understand his body’s responses to pain and pleasure, and how the line blurred for him. Other masters looked forward to taking their turns with him, pleased to elicit a more unusual response from their work. It was far harder for Rafael to take what they did to him than it was with Xian, but he did take it, gritting his teeth and bearing it and occasionally getting hard, because he knew his master wanted him to succeed.
    If he hated being the object of others’ attentions, he hated it even more when his master worked with other apprentices. It was tradition, a way to make sure one’s student was well-rounded, but every time he watched the door close on Xian and someone else, Rafael felt such a surge of rage he’d had to run away, put miles of distance between himself and the site of what felt so much like betrayal but wasn’t, couldn’t be.
    “Early riser,” Xian noted from by the door. Rafael’s head whipped around. He hadn’t heard him come in. “You look pensive.”
    “Just considering my demise,” Rafael replied dryly. He could hardly tell Xian what he’d actually been thinking about. “How will you do it?”
    “How will I do what?” Xian began to walk toward him. He was still half-dressed, but now his feet were bare and made no noise against the floor.
    “Kill me.” Rafael was genuinely curious. “I’m assuming you’ll behead me, since I’m still capable of some regeneration after my last kill. Unless you want to draw it out, I suppose. I’m sure Myrtea would enjoy that.”
    “Not exactly incentive,” Xian agreed. “I’ve not decided yet. You and I still have things to do before we can be free to think about death. How did you choose your marks?”
    Ah, now the questioning was beginning. Good. A solid goal, a solid boundary was made clear now—don’t tell Xian anything.
    “Did Daeva help you?” his master asked, passing him by and heading for the table. He ran his hands slowly over the equipment there, stroking the smooth handles with a knowing touch. Rafael watched him and shivered. “He was trained to gather intelligence, after all, and you two had ample reason to seek each other out in your exile. Did he pick them, then?” Xian lifted a lash with seven long, slender tails and turned back to Rafael. “What criteria did he use?”
    Rafael smirked and stayed silent. Xian shook his head. “Oh, how soon they forget. We’ll have to work on that memory, pet.” He pulled on a pair of thin leather gloves and strode back over to Rafael, bending down and unlocking his ankles. Rafael struck viper fast, whipping his newly freed legs around in a scything kick even as he stood and prepared to run. He was in no condition to fight, but if he could just make it to the door…
    A splinter of pain burrowed into his lower right side, expanding to the size of a tree trunk in less than a second. Rafael doubled over with the pain, his mental defenses too sluggish to block it out. The spasms paralyzed him, and all he could do was crouch there, panting like a dog until Xian walked over to him and removed the flechette knife from his side.
    “Very pretty, pet,” Xian congratulated him as he hauled him to his feet by his hair. “A lovely attempt, worthy of a knife to the kidney.” He probed the wound for a moment. “It’s healing, but very slowly. I think you’ll need some help keeping your feet.” He pulled Rafael the short distance back to where he had been restrained and lifted his arms to the chain above his head, cuffing him quickly. “Better. Now you can’t fall and hurt yourself again.”