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“What happened, General?”
“Out of curiosity, have youeverdone as you’re told?”
“Once or twice. What happened?”
He sighs. I think he’s stopped pretending that he doesn’t enjoy the back talk. “Same old, same old. Let’s call it a random accident. Two engineers were involved.”
“What? Take me there. I can help the healers who?—”
“They are now in Valhalla, Sofia.”
My jaw drops. “What were their names? I have a lot of friends among the engineers. Some of my father’s former soldiers practically raised me?—”
“They’re fine.”
“You can’t be sure.”
“I can. None of the victims ever worked with your father.”
I glare at him. “You can’t know that.”
“I knowmyarmy.”
I think about treating his wound ten years ago and think,I don’t doubt it. “What went wrong?”
“What a question. Maybe when I send you back, you should ask it to your beloved mate. I’m sure he’d have some great insight.”
“Lennart is a healer. He wouldneverdo anything like that.”
“What about his father?Yournew father.”
The words feel like a slap. “Do noteversay that again,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “Ihada father, and Lord Larsen isn’t worthy of being mentioned in the same sentence as him. There is little I would put past that man, including killing engineers in cold blood. But Lennart wouldn’t stand by and let him.”
A short, bitter laugh. “No member of that family has done jack shit to stop Lord Larsen. They all know, and they are all complicit.”
I think about Lady Larsen. Lara. Lennart. They may be spineless, but they wouldn’t allow anything like that, I know it. Still, I would love an opportunity to ask them directly. Just to be sure. “Am I allowed to leave?”
Gabriel spends a minute thinking about it, clearly savoring his power over my whereabouts. “Not yet.”
“The first night is over.”
He leans forward, elbows on each side of his plate. “Is it? Because I feel like I didn’t quite…” He drifts off. Freezes. At once, his nostrils widen as he inhales deeply. After a moment he lets out a low “fuck.”
“Fuck?”
His pupils are little more than pinpricks. “Do you always smell like this in the morning?”
“I…” I last showered before the ceremony. This morning I washed my face, just like every day. I haven’t done enough to work up an odor. “Smell like what?”
“Like…” He shakes his head as if to expel something from it.
I inhale, too, but all I can smell is the yeast of the bread. And, of course, Gabriel’s powerful, lovely Alpha scent. This morning, when I woke up in his bed, it hit me even harder than last night. So hard, all I want is to grab his palm and bring it to my face and bite into his wrist. I want tolickhim and feel his taste against the roof of my mouth. I want to bury my nose into his skin and justbreathe.
What the hell is wrong with me? Less than a minute ago, we were talking about people dying.
“What’s a cold Omega?” Gabriel asks.
“I… Excuse me?”
