Page 54 of Caged By the Ruthless Thief

Row after row of mermaids approach the railing, bow, and make their way down the stairs to their mates or waiting males. But she’s not there. No Annabelle. I felt her. My instinct is never wrong. And Holter and Castor were convinced she’d be here.

When the great doors on the balcony reverberate shut, I’m everything—confused, angry, betrayed. Which is crazy. I never wanted her to be hiding out with Eros, staying away from us. But as the alternative sank in, I was furious that Eros was keeping Annabelle from us. He’s not.

Now heat rises through my toes. Where is she? If Eros has let something happen to her, I will kill him, a slow and painful death. I will kill anyone who dares touch what is mine, have them brought back to life, and kill them again. No, no. I will tie them up and make them watch what they can’t have. While I touch everything, every part of her smooth skin. While I make marks on her that would send them to the netherworld if they tried themselves, damned for all eternity. I’ll be the one to strap the Arg-leth to their souls.

My hand sweats and my pores are dripping. My eyes are slitted, and when I turn to find Holter and Castor where I left them, that’s when I realize the crowd around me has moved back. Mermen are shielding their mates. I’m holding the trident like I mean to charge into battle. I drop the hilt to the floor and incline my head to the males closest to me.

Castor and Holter stand behind me. The music hasn’t started up again. Castor places his hand on my shoulder. “Nico, the return of Poseidon. We are pleased to have you with us once more.”

No one stirs around us.

He repeats louder, “We are pleased to have you with us once more.” Castor picks a few Zaffiro and Braesen out of the crowd, speaking directly to them. One is Eros’s brother.

“We are honored,” the male returns.

A murmur rounds the room. Castor grabs my arm and leads me to the side. There’s a male staking out the alcove for later, but one look at us, and he’s gone.

Holter’s on the other side of me. “Give me the damn trident.” It’s not a whisper.

I stare at my hand where I’m gripping the rod of the trident so tightly my knuckles are white, then look at Holter. He’s my brother, and in the eyes of some of the fools in the room, ageminae. No better than a valet to some. But I know better. To me, he’s the one I trust. I let go of the trident. My wrist relaxes, and I allow myself to sink to the cushion below me. “She’s not here.”

“No. Not that I can see.” Castor is standing next to the pillar, looking out into the room.

The music starts, the first round of dances. My hands are shaking, and I can’t focus on anything other than them.

Castor clears his throat, and I glance up. “You want that drink?”

I give him a curt nod. My throat is dry. This was a mistake. Yes, I’ve talked to her. Yes, I know she is safe. And while I hate depending on the Zaffiro, it worked in our favor. But I want her home and now.

Castor is gone, but Holter’s placed the trident against the indent on the back wall. It’s left over from when we allowed males to bring tridents into balls and public spaces. Not that everyone isn’t armed still, it’s just they are more discreet about it.

There’s a commotion on the other side of the room.

“What the hell was that?” Holter’s standing close enough for our knees to brush together.

“I thought she was going to be here.”

“I did too. But you’re not fucking asleep, so wake the hell up. We’re going to find her.”

I haven’t really looked at him until now. He’s got dark circles under his eyes. Yes, he’s wearing one of his finest suits, but his shoulders are slumped. No part of him looks like the Holter I know, the male who has held me together my whole life.

I nod. He’s right. “Yes.” Damn, he deserves better. And I want to give it to him.

“We will find her.” He looks from me out to the ballroom floor. “It’s always the same. These things never change. Everyone has staked out their little corners, ready to fuck their way into a pod. Or bring ageminaein for a little fun. I am sick of it.”

“You’re sick of not being with her.”

“Damn straight.”

“I’m sorry.”

Holter’s head snaps toward me. “What are you sorry about? You’re sorry for not dying? For trying to give our mate what she wanted? For being selfless one fucking time in your life and giving her what she wanted? Letting her go home? Letting her stay where it was safe when we found her? No, don’t give me that shit now.” Holter runs his hand through his hair.

“I’m not giving you any shit. I’m sorry. If I had suggested she stay and the two of you start a pod—”

“I wouldn’t have allowed it. So shut it. We show them Belle is ours, and we take her home.”

“No, we have to stay, show them we’re not afraid. That we can protect what is ours.” I pat the mattress next to me. It’s soft and wide. So much better than a hospital bed or Castor’s childhood one. Even with the music and the sounds of a pod in the alcove next to me, I could drift off to... I sit straight up. No sleeping here.

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