Page 131 of The Throne's Undoing

Chapter 42

KALLIE

Even hoursafter returning from the springs, Kallie couldn't erase the memory of Graeson's kiss from her lips. She lay in her bed, twisting and turning, as the midnight air swept inside the room.

If she was honest with herself, she had been restless for a long time, but Graeson's rejection had increased it ten-fold.

She didn't know what had come over her when they were at the springs. Perhaps it was the heat from the water. Maybe it was the vulnerability that Graeson had shown her. Or maybe it was the confirmation that they were both monsters, that Kallie didn't have to pretend when she was with him.

Or maybe it was the constant pull she always felt around him. An inexplicable force that beckoned her to step closer, to push the limits of their budding friendship.

No matter the reason, however, she was foolish to have thrown herself at him.

And yet...

Kallie brushed the tips of her fingers across her lips. When he had kissed her...

Kallie sighed, pressing her head back against the pillow as she recalled his lips on hers, his hands on her hips. Sighing, she pulled the forgotten black cotton shirt closer to her face, the faint notes of cedar and citrus surrounding her.

And as the night breeze caressed her hot skin, Kallie did not regret a single thing.

Chapter 43

MYRA

The syringe shatteredon the floor. The murky liquid spread across the concrete, soaking into the stone.

With a thump, Rian laid his head back against the metal bed. A small, satisfied smirk pressed past the gag within his mouth.

"Shit," Dr. Thorne hissed as he squatted and inspected the broken syringe. Picking up the needle, he glared at Myra over his glasses.

Myra sunk back within herself, her hands shaking in her lap.

She was trying to delay Rian's progress as much as she could. Laurince had yet to return with a plan. He delivered food but never said anything more than an obtusesoon. But soon might not be soon enough at this rate.

She could feel Rian's strength draining, the hope for an escape disintegrating with each passing day.

Dr. Thorne shouted, "Guards!"

Myra gripped her hands tightly, willing them to still as her attention flicked to the door.

Only silence answered the healer's call. The iron door was too thick for any guard to hear his shouts.

"Imbeciles," Dr. Thorne muttered, slamming the useless syringe onto the table. He wiped his hands on the blood-stained apron. "No one can do anything right." He headed for the door. With his hand wrapped around the handle, he looked over his shoulder. "You'd better hope His Majesty does not hear about this misstep, or else he will have all our heads."

Then with a final sneer, he slammed the door shut behind him.

Myra's heart raced as she stared after his retreating form, fear wrapping its limbs around her throat.

This was her chance, she realized. She could run. She could--

A hand wrapped around her wrist, and Myra's attention snapped toward the metal table. Rian's green eyes stared at her, the whites of his eyes stained red.

He groaned, but the rod in his mouth muffled his words, making them unintelligible.

With trembling hands and a quick glance back, Myra reached over and loosened the gag.

Rian took in a deep breath and whispered, his voice hoarse from the screams that had previously ripped through his lungs. "Please. I do not wish--I do not want--"

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