Page 25 of Enemies By Fate

“We have orders to stay,” one of the guards intones, his growl leaving no room for protest.

Hanging her head, Poppy nods, sitting on the edge of one of the chairs as she gestures for Tavric to do the same.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” she promises him, and I admire her way with him.

Tavric is half crazy from all his years in captivity, but Poppy doesn’t seem to notice. She’s acting like he’s an old friend.

Maybe because he is an old friend?

The door opens again, and one of our servants enters with a tray of steaming coffee, followed by another carrying sandwiches.

“What the hell is this?” Malachi challenges. “Is he moving in here too? Did we turn this into a hotel for the rebels now?”

“Calm down, Malachi,” Asher tells our brother evenly, his gaze still focused on the scene in front of us. “If it gets Tavric talking, what’s the harm?”

“She’s got you both wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she?” Malachi hisses.

I cast him a sidelong look, tempted to bring up the video footage from the elevator recently brought to my attention, but I don’t. This isn’t the time to antagonize Malachi. We’ll have a discussion about his hypocrisy later.

With a shaking hand, Tavric reaches for the food, and Poppy rises to help pour him a cup of coffee. He winces and sits back as if he expects her to strike him, and she backs away.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Tavric. I just want to talk,” she promises him.

He exhales and allows her to pour the coffee.

“You’re one of them all right,” Tavric mumbles with his mouthful of sandwich, crumbs falling down his face.

I look at my brothers, but they’re just as perplexed by the prisoner’s statement as I am.

“One of who?” Poppy asks delicately, placing the coffee cup gently in front of the rogue shifter before sitting gracefully in front of him.

It’s hard to tell if she’s afraid, but I’m overwhelmed with the urge to fly in there and intercept, even though I’d promised to sit outside without interfering.

Tavric continues to chew messily, his leering grin not fazing Poppy, even when his hand shoots out to grab her wrist.

“Get in there!” I yell, but Asher throws up an arm to stop me as the guards rush forward, and Poppy holds up a hand.

“Stop!” Poppy commands them. “I’m fine.”

Uncertainly, the guards pause, but Tavric doesn’t release her.

“Your ear!” Tavric caws, half-laughing, half-sighing. “Your marking of the ancient pack.”

Baffled, Poppy reaches her free hand up to caress the spot behind her left ear, and Tavric bobs his head vehemently, cackling. “This?” she asks. “Is that what you mean?”

“I only know one other who bore that mark! Sharp! Sharp! Sharp!”

He releases his hold on Poppy as quickly as he grabs her and starts stuffing his face again.

“Sharp?” Poppy repeats, tilting her head. “What’s sharp?”

Tavric shoves the rest of his sandwich back into his mouth and snorts again, choking on the massive bite. The guards whack him across the back until the bite of food lodges free, and Tavric sputters, struggling to catch his breath.

“Not what, who!” he snorts. “Sharp! Sharp Brickman.”

Poppy sinks back in her chair as I choke on air.

Oh gods.

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