Chapter six

Hilda covered my fading bruises, styled my auburn hair into loose waves, and pushed me into heels I could barely stand in.

When I looked in the mirror, I didn't recognize the woman looking back. Beautiful. Confident. Unbroken. I smiled at her, and for once she smiled back like she meant it.

The club was everything Hilda promised. Loud, crowded, overwhelming in the best possible way.

We drank. We danced. We laughed. For a few hours I forgot the broken bond, the murder no one would let me deny, the auction and the dungeon and Corvain's nightmare eyes. I forgot everything but the music and the lights and the pure animal joy of being free.

I was weaving back toward our table when I felt it. A presence. Powerful. Watching.

I turned.

A man stood a few feet away, and my breath caught in my throat. Silver-white hair that caught the club lights. Sharp, elegant features. Eyes like molten gold. He looked young, early thirties at most, but he carried himself with the weight of someone who commanded rooms without trying.

"May I?" His voice was deep and smooth, aged whiskey poured slow.

I glanced at Hilda. She gave me a wildly unsubtle thumbs-up.

I came here to reclaim my life, didn't I?

"Please." I nodded to the empty chair.

He sat with fluid grace. "I'm Jake."

"Liya." I gave him half my name on purpose.

"Liya." He said it like he was tasting it. "What brings you here tonight?"

"Needed to forget reality for a while." I sipped my drink, feeling bold. "You?"

"Same, actually." His smile was easy. "Though reality's looking a lot more interesting all of a sudden."

We talked. He was funny, quick, easy in a way I wasn't used to. He asked about me without prying, and I gave him answers that weren't quite lies. The knot in my chest slowly loosened.

Then the pain came.

Sharp. Sudden. It lanced through me and I gasped, my hand flying to my chest.

"Liya? What's wrong?"

The broken bond throbbed in time with my heartbeat. Somewhere out there, Dayn had moved on to someone else, and even shattered, even rejected, the bond made me feel the echo of it.

He gets to move on. And I get to bleed for it.

I looked up at Jake through the haze, and something reckless rose in me.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

His eyes widened slightly. "Liya, you've been drinking. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." I stood, unsteady, and held out my hand. "Unless you're not interested."

He took it, his grip warm and certain. "I'm very interested. I just want you sure it's what you want."

Another pulse of pain rolled through the dead bond.

Fuck the bond. Fuck Dayn.

"I'm sure."

We barely made it out the door before we were kissing, and the moment his mouth found mine, something in me went still. Not pain. Not revenge. Something that felt, impossibly, like coming home.

He pulled back, breathing hard. "Do you want to go somewhere better? My hotel's not far—"

"There," I said against his mouth. Later. Now I just needed to feel wanted by someone who was choosing me back. "Come on."

He kept asking if I was sure. That was the thing I'd remember afterward. Every step of the way, this stranger kept making certain the choice was mine.

For the first time in longer than I could remember, it was.

I texted Hilda one line — ‘leaving, I'm okay, see you tomorrow’ — and let him lead me to his car.

I woke at dawn with a pounding head, in a room I didn't recognize, next to a man I'd met hours ago.

Sober now, reality crashed down.

‘What did I do?’

I'd gone home with a stranger whose last name I didn't know. I hadn't thought about a single consequence.

Stupid. So stupid.’ I was barely starting to piece my life back together.

I slid out of bed as quietly as I could, gathered my scattered clothes, dressed in under a minute, and slipped out the door.