I tasted was my victims’ blood. All I felt were their spirits clinging to me, my skin itching so badly I wanted to crawl out of it.
“I need a shower.” Emotions flooded my eyes and heart. I turned away, heading for the bathroom. Zander followed me, where another two guards waited.
I shot Zander a glance.
“Extra protection.” He answered my unspoken question. “What better time to attack you.”
Me, naked in the shower, was the most vulnerable time.
“Can I have a moment?” I asked, the walls around me thinning. “Can you stand outside the door?”
“I’m sorry.” Zander shook his head. “You can’t be left unattended anymore.”
My lips squeezed until I knew they blanched, holding back a sob that swirled on the back of my tongue.
I moved for the shower. A new uniform and undergarments were laid out, with a less worn towel, unused soap, and shampoo with conditioner in it. Those were my perks for killing.
Conditioner and fresh soap for two lives.
Undressing, I let my soiled garments fall to the floor and stepped underneath the stream of water, trying to ignore the eyes on me. I resented them for peeling away another layer in a moment I needed to myself.
The water streamed down on me as I pressed my forehead against the cool tile. I fought back the sobs working up from my gut. I wouldn’t let the guards see me break down, not even the horse-shifter, Zander.
I couldn’t find the energy to move, to lift my arms to my hair, or scrub the blood off my skin. The dirt and stain went so much deeper.
Energy prickled at the back of my neck.
“Get. Out.” A deep timbre thundered through the room, jerking my head around with a jolt. My heart and breath came to a stuttering pause.
Oh, my gods…
Warwick, covered in blood and dirt, stood a few steps inside the door. His dark hair was down and wild around his face, an open wound slashed over his cheek, dried blood at the corner of his mouth. What was he doing here? His fight had started less than ten minutes ago, but by the dirt and red liquid glinting off his uniform, it was already over.
Meaning he had killed one of the top fighters…in minutes.
His presence in this room also confused me. He had never been in this bathroom before. As far as I knew, he had his own. So why was he here? Asking me to leave?
The guards pushed off the walls, but none of them said a word, staring at him cautiously.
“I. Said. Get. Out.” His intense gaze was on me, but his demand was intended for the guards, not me.
“Prisoner—” A guard stepped forward to argue, but Warwick snapped his head toward him, and the guard slunk back, swallowing nervously.
It was as if the world flipped. A prisoner had more power over the people guarding him.
“Farkas, you know we can’t—” Zander stepped up to him.
Warwick puffed out his chest, crossing his arms, not bothering to respond, his power throbbing through the room with domination.
The two lesser sentries looked to Zander for direction, my alarmed gaze also on him. I waited for him to say no, to protect me as he said he would.
Conflict flashed over the horse-shifter, but then he sighed, putting his hands on his hips, and dipped his head in acceptance.
What?!
The three guards filed toward the door without a single word. My mouth dropped as I stared after Zander, unable to find my voice.
“We’ll be right outside.” Zander glanced back at me, concern wrinkling his forehead before he turned around and departed. Leaving me alone.
What the fuck? What happened to the guards protecting me?
Fright held me in place like a cornered animal. Did he plan to assault me? Kill me? Finish the job two others couldn’t? Was that why he was so irritated earlier?
Brexley Kovacs was still alive, which must be rectified.
Emotionless, Warwick watched me for another moment, tension billowing through the room. His gaze never lowered down my naked figure, though phantom fingers touched my skin like they were tracing over my curves, sweeping down my legs and up to my breasts, my nipples hardening, my breath snagging.
Brexley! Anger at myself burned in my throat. This man was probably about to harm me in some cruel way, and I was fantasizing about his touch.
Keeping my chin high and jaw locked, fatigue shook my legs, but I didn’t cower, just faced my death head-on.
Instead of lunging for me, his hands went to the bottom of his shirt, ripping