Page 5 of Reckless
The steps of the Imperials grow distant, the sounds of their search softening as they head down the stairs and into the room beneath.
Quiet.
And yet, I know he’s still in this room. Only a feeble amount of feet separate us. I can practically feel his presence, just as I’ve felt the heat of his body against mine, the heat of his gray gaze as it swept over me.
A floorboard creaks. He’s close. I’m shaking with anger, revenge coursing through my blood and desperately wishing to spill his. It’s a good thing I can’t see his face because if I were to catch sight of one of his stupid dimples right now, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from trying to claw it from his face.
But I steady my breathing instead, knowing that if I fight him now, my fury won’t be enough to beat him. And I intend to win when I finally face the Enforcer.
“I imagine you pictured my face when you threw that knife.” His voice is quiet, considering, sounding far more like the boy I knew. Memories of him flood my mind, managing to make my heart race. “Isn’t that right, Paedyn?” And there it is. The edge is back in the Enforcer’s voice, erasing Kai and leaving a commander.
My heart hammers against my rib cage.
He can’t know I’m here. How could he possibly—
The sound of a blade ripping from splintered wood tells me he yanked my knife out of the wall. I hear a familiar flicking noise and can practically picture him mindlessly flipping the weapon in his hand.
“Tell me, darling, do you think of me often?” His voice is amurmur, as if his lips were pressed against my ear. I shiver, knowing exactly what that feels like.
If he knows I’m here then why hasn’t he—
“Do I haunt your dreams, plague your thoughts, like you do mine?”
My breath hitches.
So he doesn’t know I’m here, not for certain.
His admission told me as much.
As an Ordinary who was trained and tailored into aPsychic, I was taught by my father to read people, to gather information and observations in a matter of seconds.
And I’ve had far more than a matter of seconds to read Kai Azer.
I’ve seen through his many masks and facades, glimpsing the boy beneath and growing to know him, care for him. And with all the betrayal now between us, I know he wouldn’t declare dreaming of me if he knew I was drinking in every word.
I hear the humor in his voice as he sighs. “Where are you, Little Psychic?”
His nickname is laughable, seeing that he and the rest of the kingdom now know I’m anything but. Anything but Elite.
Nothing but Ordinary.
Soot stings my nose and I have to clamp my hand over it to hold in a sneeze, reminding me of my many nights thieving from the stores lining Loot before escaping through cramped chimneys.
Cramped. Trapped. Suffocating.
My eyes dart across the bricks surrounding me in the darkness. The space is so small, so stuffy, so very easily making me panic.
Calm down.
Claustrophobia chooses the worst times to claw to the surface and remind me of my helplessness.
Breathe.
I do. Deeply. The hand still clamped over my nose smells faintly of metal—sharp and strong and stinging my nose.
Blood.
I pull the shaky hand away from my face, and though I can’t see the crimson staining my fingers, I can practically feel it clinging to me. There’s still blood crusted under my cracked nails, and I don’t know whether it’s mine, the king’s, or—
