in our encounter vanished from their disarray around the room and reassembled themselves on my body. I risked glancing at Sorsha one more time. “I’m sorry.”
“Just go,” she said, her voice firm but hollow, as if my confession had drained away all the pleasure I’d given her.
I winced, the guilt expanding like a vise around my lungs, but I went.
When the bedroom door was shut between her and me, I paused in the hall to catch my breath. Nicely done. Very smooth. I’d better hope I never needed her for more sustenance, because she sure as hell wasn’t getting it on with me ever again.
She might not ever share another dance with me or laugh at my banter or, fuck, even smile at me.
None of those things should have mattered. I didn’t require any of them to survive. As I slunk to the kitchen, I reminded myself of that over and over until I was almost convinced. Almost. Well, a little chatter with Snap might cheer me up.
It wasn’t our naïve devourer I found in the kitchen, though, but Thorn, back from his patrol and looking about as grim as usual, which I assumed meant it was good news.
I dropped into the chair across from him at the stubby Formica island that protruded from the wall. “No sign of this sword-star crew?”
“Not so far,” he said in a tone that suggested he expected they’d appear to wreak more havoc on our existence any minute now. You could hand this man a glass that was full nearly to the brim, and he’d still mutter about the smidge it was empty.
A little china bowl filled with hard candies sat in the middle of the island. I plucked one up and then simply turned it between my fingers, the cellophane crinkling. Physical food didn’t do anything for me except perhaps offer a pleasant flavor, and I wasn’t sure I was in the mood to actually stick anything in my mouth. Not after I’d already stuck my foot in there so badly with the woman down the hall.
Thorn glanced past me as if he knew where my thoughts had headed. His fathomless gaze came back to rest on my face.
Not for the first time, I wished I knew what in the realms he was. He’d never shown his full form where I could see it, and his presence in the shadows didn’t offer any qualities distinctive enough for me to match him to other beings I’d encountered. The powers I knew of—his strength and alertness to aggression—could have belonged to any number of kind.
I’d never met a devourer before Snap, only heard rumors of them. Quite possibly Thorn was some rare creature that few of us ever encountered as well. Which meant I had no clue what other powers he might be hiding behind that scarred exterior.
Omen had wanted the best of the best, at least from the shadowkind willing to take up his cause. He’d trusted Thorn. I trusted Omen… about as much as I trusted anyone. Better to leave it at that than to worry.
“You’ve been getting rather close with the mortal one,” Thorn said, with a tip of his head toward the hall.
I raised my eyebrows at him. “That is sort of my thing, as you well know. Have you got a problem with it?”
He stared right back at me, unshaken by my implied challenge. “I don’t think such involvement will make it easier to protect her. If it affects your concentration, it may bring about the opposite result instead.”
“My concentration is just fine. We cubi deal in bodily intimacies, not emotional connection—we make no secret about that.”
“So, you have no interest in her beyond physical satisfaction.”
He didn’t say it like a question, but I felt the need to answer it anyway. “I like her well enough, but I’m hardly going to get attached in any way that would throw me off my game. Omen picked me for good reason too. Everything is under control.”
And besides, it wasn’t likely I’d have any more involvement with Sorsha at all after tonight, not that I wanted to mention that to Thorn. Not that, or the fact that Omen might not have picked me if he’d been aware of one particular past lapse.
No one needed to know about that. I knew better now.
“As long as it stays that way,” Thorn said, getting up. He left me on my own in the kitchen, grappling with a rekindled uneasiness I couldn’t quite shake.
19
Sorsha
I’d never felt nervous