Page 39 of Seduced

Maybe it’s true that I haven’t slept properly in years.

And maybe that is the worst hell of all.

Alexei

He did not walk away from Dante’s room; he ran.

He cursed himself for having touched her so much. From the moment he had carried her inside Dante’s hideout, he knew he should have left her alone; Dante knew how to help her far better than Alexei himself ever could anyway. She neither needed or wanted his help. But he had needed an excuse to touch her.

How many years had it been since he had voluntarily touched another human being?

And enjoyed it?

Probably never.

And had wanted more?

And could not stop?

Never ever.

Her body had felt so light and small as he had lifted her; he had expected her to be heavier, and as a result, he had jarred her a bit until he found his balance. But she had not protested once, even though she obviously was in unendurable pain. Why?

Why had she not said anything?

What was wrong with her?

What was wrong withhim?

He shook his head impatiently like a dog, but he could not shake away the thoughts.

He ran straight across the gallery and down the stairs, knowing the way even in the thick darkness. He took the steps three at a time, until he reached a door four levels below the ground, with a barricade across it, and four iron locks holding it tightly shut.

It took him a good four minutes to open it, but open it he did, and walked into a small, dark room that smelled of tallow and wine.

“Your Highness!” he called, momentarily blind.

“Still alive,” a voice answered from his left, where the small fire cast a low, orange light against the silhouette of a man with a long mane of black hair, holding a wine glass in his hand. “Very much so. Unfortunately for you.”

Alexei proceeded into the room.

“Do not ever joke about that, Nikolaos,” he said, stopping in front of the fire.

“Forgive me,” the prince replied, wincing. “The hours are long and tedious in this hiding room. Teasing a friend is the only reprieve a condemned man like me has at his disposal.”

“More condemned than you think,” Alexei sighed, taking a seat opposite the prince. Nikolaos was older than himself, but still far too young to be the heir to an entire kingdom. Much too young still to be hiding from assassins. And he was both. “I had a run in with some of your would-be killers a few nights ago, and I am currently playing host to a short little thief who came in here to spy on me and find out where I am hiding you.”

“What…where…?” Nikolaos sputtered, nearly choking on his wine.

Alexei reached out a hand to grab his sleeve.

“Please do not be distressed,” he said quickly. “I hate this, I hate upsetting you, Nikolaos. I didn’t want to tell you about the assassins for this specific reason.”

“Where are they now?” Nikolaos brought a long finger to his chin. He was a true Greek prince, his features dark, tragic and handsome as a tortured god’s, or they would have been, if his face wasn’t constantly plagued by an expression of worry and burden.

“Dead,” Alexei replied, “naturally. Wilder and I made quick work of them.”

Nikolaos breathed a sigh of relief, but Alexei caught him examining his face for bruises, and gave him a ‘stop it’ look.

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