Page 38 of Blackthorn

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Why was my door locked?”

“A temporary measure for your safety.” Draven rose to his feet. He towered over her.

Charlotte lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated. “Am I to be treated like a prisoner, locked in my room every night?”

“You were bleeding, and you filled the corridor with the scent of your warm blood.”

“That was not my intention. There were shouts in the corridor.”

“All the more reason to be confined to your room,” he said, his voice chilled. He took a moment to make sure he had her full attention. “Whether you meant it or not, you invited every hungry monster to find you.”

The irresistible aroma lured him in, after all.

“You might as well say what’s on your mind,” Draven said.

His second-in-command dipped his head. “Sir, I have a concern.”

Draven leveled a cold look at Stringer. The man wasted his time with feigned deference.

“Madame Charlotte—”

“Lady Charlotte,” Draven corrected.

Stringer nodded. “Apologies. Lady Charlotte did not see the beast, but she is convinced it was her, umm, associate.”

“She expressed that concern to me. I informed her it was not.” That should be the end of the matter.

“I doubt she will take your word for it.”

“Most likely. She will be confined until she accepts the fact that I am not holding her associate captive.” Yes, he heard the irony. No, he did not care. It was for her safety.

Stringer nodded. “She would be more compliant if you offered proof that the beast is not being held. They could not have gotten far in the snow. I can send a team—”

Draven raised a hand to silence him. A team would not be good enough. He wanted to assure Charlotte that he himself had spoken to the beast. No one else would suffice. “We leave at dawn.”

Chapter Ten

Charlotte

The Aerie

Charlotte’s Bedroom

Exhaustion took Charlotte. She slept until…well, she had no idea. There were no windows and no clocks in her room. Well after breakfast, as the tray waiting for her had long since gone cold. The previous night—the entire day—felt like a fever dream.

A first aid kit waited not so subtly on the bedside table, the broken glass had been swept away, and the fire tended to. The room was comfortably warm as was the teapot waiting at the hearth.

Charlotte ignored the tea and the tray. If Miles were being held prisoner, she needed to do…something. Yes, this was a well-armed military outpost. The guards she saw yesterday left little doubt about that. And she had no idea where Miles was being held or how well guarded. Or what happened to Luis. She couldn’t imagine that the two would allow themselves to be separated. If they were imprisoned while she cavorted with Draven…

Her stomach churned at the nearly hopeless situation. She had no useful information, and the only weapons she possessed were a gun with six silver bullets, a wooden stake, and a silver dagger. Hardly an arsenal to take on a fortress. Be that as it may, she could hardly sit back and do nothing.

Charlotte secured the dagger in her bodice. She wasn’t a fighter, but she wasn’t helpless. She’d gather information, starting with Miles’s location.

The door would not open. Locked. Again.

So much for not being a prisoner.

“Hello? Unlock this door,” she demanded, banging on the door.

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