Page 37 of The Empty Throne

"Poor baby, forced into a life of cozycomfort and tiresome responsibility."

Lindquist's gaze snapped back to him, brownsugar eyes full of fire. "I've never once complained about it."

Bittersea laughed. "No, you smile and obeyand uphold that infuriating honor, then come in here and indulge ina highly intriguing past time."

"What difference does it make to you?"

"That is the question, isn't it?" Bitterseawalked his fingers up Lindquist's chest, then shoved him back acouple of steps before turning slightly to pull out random volumes."The Desperate Hostage. The King's Unwilling Bride. Imprisoned bythe Enemy. Dark stuff, Lindquist. I'm actually ratherimpressed."

Lindquist's beautiful skin flushed rose."I've never hurt anyone. I don'twantto hurt anyone.They're just fantasies. Why do you care? Why are you doing this?I've given you a place of safety, Bittersea, and I'm still notcertain you weren't paid to come here and kill me. You could musterup manners enough not to mock me for something that isn't hurtinganyone."

"Mocking?" Bittersea laughed and steppedinto Lindquist's space again, breathing in that strangely appealingcologne he wore, like sandalwood and smoke wafting throughfresh-fallen snow. Even here, when it was just the two of them, noteven the worm he was here to kill around, Lindquist dressed like hemight be summoned to an important audience at any moment. It wasstupid and absurd and strangely appealing. "When I'm mocking you,Lindquist, you'll know it."

"What do you call this, then?"

"A conversation," Bittersea replied—thengrabbed Lindquist and turned them, slamming him into the bookcaseand pinning him there. Lindquist was taller than him, but only by ahair. "An offer."

"I thought blackmail was beneath you."

"It is," Bittersea replied, not quitesnapping the words out. "There is nothing interesting aboutblackmail. It's dull, unless you drag it on long enough to finallykill your victim, and that is not how I prefer to play with mytoys. Don't pretend it wouldn't be effective, though. You can'tkill me, and it won't go well for you if people know what kind ofdark and twisted erotica gets you hard."

"What exactly are you doing, if notblackmail, then?" Lindquist bit out. "Because this is sounding moreand more like blackmail."

Bittersea laughed and didn't miss thedelicate shivers that ran through Lindquist. "The storm stillrages. Even if it clears today, we'll be stuck here for days yetbecause of the flooding. I'm bored and your little secret amusesme. So I have an offer for you."

Lindquist went still as a rock, eyesnarrowing slightly. "Offer? From you? That's like saying yes whenthe snake asks to bite me."

"That was almost clever, Lindquist, I'mimpressed."

"Oh, shut up."

Bittersea bit him, quick and hard, on thejaw, making Lindquist swear and jerk back, only to knock his headinto the bookshelves. "Here's my offer." He leaned in so his mouthwas next to Lindquist's ear. "Three days, Lindquist. From now untildawn on Telday. You can do whatever you want to me, every dirtylittle fantasy in your books. Whatever. You. Want. I give you fullpermission to make me your helpless prisoner."

He swore that for a moment Lindquist stoppedbreathing. Then it caught, hitched, and Lindquist said, "Have youlost your mind?"

"I'll leave that question to historians,"Bittersea said. "I'm sure they'll say I was born wrong in the head.What will they say about you?"

"I don't want to know." Lindquist eyed himwarily. "What happens when the three days are up?"

"The game ends."

Lindquist drew a deep breath, let it outslowly, then muttered something about his own stupidity beforesaying, "Fine. I accept. If you change your mind at any point…"

"I'll say 'mercy.'"

"All right."

Bittersea smiled, anticipation tinglingalong his skin and racing through his body as warm and delightfulas the rush before a kill. "Three days. Starting now.”

He closed the secret shelf with a smirk,memories tingling along his spine and pooling low in his gut.

Leaving the library, he attended to hisdishes in the kitchen before heading upstairs to Lindquist'ssecondary office, where he worked at odd hours, since the smallerroom was easier to heat and was across the hall from hisbedroom.

There were fewer hiding spots here, asLindquist didn't really use the office much, mostly to catch up oncorrespondence after everyone else had gone to sleep.

Hedidfind a key, though, the kindmeant for a door—but no door in the house that he'd ever seen,because he already had a master key for those, and it wouldn't workon whatever door went with the mystery key.

That little brat had managed to keep a secretof his house back after all. Bittersea laughed, pleased, andshifted tactics from looking for useful papers to seeking out ahidden door. Given that Lindquist had made the key almost painfullyeasy to find, he was intended to find the door, so it must not betoo difficult.

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