or how no one but they entered the Temples. But, worse yet, it raised the question of why Hawke would make all of this up. What would be the point of concocting this elaborate lie when he had to know how hard it would be to convince me?
No, I didn’t think about any of that.
I just acted.
The chain skidded across the floor as I swung on him, my hand curled into a fist.
Hawke’s hand snapped up, catching mine before it connected with his jaw. Gods, he moved impossibly fast, twisting my arm as he spun me around. He yanked me back against the hard wall of his chest, trapping my arm between us as he grabbed my other hand. A shriek of frustration ripped from my throat as I went to lift my leg—
“Don’t.” His voice was a soft warning in my ear, one that sent a shiver down my spine.
I didn’t listen.
He grunted when the heel of my foot connected with the front of his leg. Jerking my leg up, I kicked back.
Suddenly, I found myself pressed against the wall with Hawke at my back. I struggled, but it was no use. There wasn’t an inch of space between him or the cold, damp wall.
“I said, don’t.” His warm breath drifted over my temple. “I mean it, Princess. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You don’t? You already hur—” I cut myself off.
“What?” He moved my arm so it was no longer caught between us. He didn’t let go, though. Instead, he pressed my hand into the wall, just as he did with the other one.
Clamping my mouth shut, I refused to tell him that he’d already hurt me. Admitting that meant there was something to hurt, to be exploited, and he already had enough to use against me.
“You know you can’t seriously hurt me,” he said, resting his cheek against mine.
I tensed. “Then why am I chained?”
“Because getting kicked, punched, or clawed still doesn’t feel good,” he returned. “And while the others have been ordered to not touch you, it doesn’t mean they’ll be as tolerant as I am.”
“Tolerant?” I tried to push off the wall but got nowhere. “You call this tolerant?”
“Considering that I just spent time cleaning out and covering your wound, I would say so. And a thank you would be nice.”
“I didn’t ask you to help me,” I seethed.
“No. Because you’re either too proud or too foolish to do so. You would’ve allowed yourself to rot instead of asking for help,” he said. “So, I’m not going to get a thank you, am I?”
Thrusting my head back was my answer. He anticipated it, though, and I didn’t manage to hit him. He forced my cheek to the wall. I wriggled, trying to break his hold.
“You are exceptionally skilled at being disobedient,” he growled. “Only second to your talent of driving me crazy.”
“You forgot one last skill.”
“I did?”
“Yes,” I gritted out. “I’m skilled at killing Craven. I imagine killing Atlantians is no different.”
Hawke chuckled deeply, and I felt the sound all along my back. “We’re not consumed by hunger, so we’re not as easily distracted as a Craven.”
“You can still be killed.”
“Is that a threat?”
“You take it however you want.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I know you’ve been through a lot. I know that what I’ve told you is a lot, but it is all the truth. Every part, Poppy.”
“Stop calling me that!” I squirmed.
“And you should stop doing that,” he said, his voice rougher, deeper. “Then again. Please continue. It’s the perfect kind of torture.”
For a moment, I didn’t understand what he meant, but then I felt him against my lower back, and my breath caught as a wave of awareness stole through me. “You’re sick.”
“And twisted. Perverse, and dark.” The rough stubble of his chin dragged over my cheek, and my spine arched in response. He seemed to get even closer as his fingers spread over mine. “I’m a lot of things—”
“Murderer?” I whispered, unsure if I was reminding him or myself. “You killed Vikter. You killed all the others.”
He stilled, and the next breath he took pushed his chest against my back. “I’ve killed. So have Delano and Kieran. I and the one you call the Dark One had a hand in Hannes’ and Rylan’s deaths, but not that poor girl. It was one of the Ascended, most likely caught in bloodlust. And I am willing to bet it was either the Duke or the Lord.”
The Lord.
Who’d smelled of the flower that