The Pledge (The Pledge 1)

When I reached the chamber, Angelina was awake, and I wondered if she’d slept at all. I dropped to my knees as she rushed into my arms. She smelled like sweat and sleep and dirt, and I inhaled deeply as I pressed her close to me. Her luminous blue eyes belied the nights of fragmented sleep and interrupted dreams. Looking into them, it wasn’t difficult to imagine that she was someone special.

My eyes, on the other hand, felt gritty and tender, and I rubbed them with the back of my hand in an effort to keep fatigue at bay.

I glanced longingly at the pallet on the floor, at the pillows and the scratchy blanket. Brook took Angelina by the hand to find some breakfast, while I fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of soldiers and queens and lost souls.

It was the sound of water that woke me, the whooshing noise it made as it was poured from one vessel to another. It wasn’t loud, but I’d heard it nonetheless.

I blinked as I opened my eyes, hoping it wasn’t an illusion I was witnessing: the big metal tub with steam rising from it.

A bath. Someone had brought me a bath.

Eden held open the drape that had been affixed over the doorway, while two men carried in two more oversize buckets of water, adding them to the tub.

“Claude’s back. We’re leaving as soon as everyone’s ready.” Her black eyes met mine, and she raised one brow. “Xander thought you might want to get cleaned up first.” She turned to leave. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Wait! Where’s Angelina?”

Eden nodded, her countenance relaxed for the moment. It was easier to be around her when she was like this. She made me feel the same way, despite the fact that she’d just informed me I was about to meet the queen. “She’s already had her midday meal, but she wanted to stay and play with some of the children. I decided it would be okay. Time Jn Q Time Jcan move slowly down here with nothing to do.”

She was right, of course. I didn’t want Angelina to be stuck in this dark chamber all day. Or all night, whichever the case may be. “Okay,” I finally agreed.

The curtain fell behind her, and I eyed the water. Never had I imagined that a bath could look so enticing, especially one in a steel tub. But I undressed quickly and slipped beneath the water.

There was no soap, so I just soaked, enjoying the feel of the water over my bare skin. I felt bruises forming already on my ribs, from when Xander had slammed me to the ground, and I prodded them gingerly with my fingertips. It was a tight fit in the tub, and mildly uncomfortable, but somehow I managed to lean all the way back, drawing my head and face beneath the surface. I ran my fingers through my hair, scrubbing as best I could. It was like a bit of heaven.

When the water was too cool to bear any longer, I finally stood, reaching for the threadbare towel I’d been left. It was then that I saw a pile of clean clothes stacked neatly on the end of the sleeping pallet. My clothes, from my home. There was also a set for Angelina. It seemed a dangerous risk to send someone back to our house for fresh clothing.

I dried and dressed quickly, sitting on the edge of the pallet as I toweled my hair and used my fingers to comb through the tangles.

It seemed like a lifetime since I’d been both clean and rested—luxuries that I’d taken for granted my entire life. It was hard to imagine it hadn’t even been two days since the night of the attacks.

A soft tapping came from outside the doorway. “Charlie?” It was Max’s voice, and I was suddenly aware of how very alone I was in here.

My pulse thrummed nervously throughout my body as I cleared my throat. “Come in.”

He stepped inside, and I smiled broader than I’d meant to. I wasn’t certain I wanted him to know how pleased I was to see him.

“May I?” he asked, pointing to the spot next to me on the pallet.

I nodded, my expression earnest, my heart racing as he sat down beside me.

“How are you holding up? You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I’ll be okay,” I insisted, but still, I bit my lip. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Was Xander right not to send you? Can we—can I—trust you?”

His smile was unexpected. He reached up and moved a damp tendril of my hair from my cheek. “You can trust me, Charlie. And so can Xander, even when he makes me want to put my fist through his face. He knows as much; he just doesn’t want to admit it.”

His lazy smirk was pure enticement. I wanted to be immune to his brand of temptation, but I wasn’t, and I found myself leaning toward him. The lamp in the corner flickered, casting shadows over his face, changing shapes and colors, but no matter what dance they did, he was still beautiful to look upon.

His mouth inched toward mine, and I watch Jn Q watch Jed it, my gaze frozen on his lips, my breath stuck somewhere between my lungs and my throat.

“What time is it?” I asked, hoping it would stop him from coming any closer.

He smiled, and I could see his teeth, every detail, including a tiny chip that would have been indistinguishable from any decent distance. His breath was warm and smelled of promise. “Why? Is there someplace else you’d rather be?” His voice was rough and gravelly, and filled with something I didn’t quite recognize but that made my toes curl.

When his lips reached mine, my heart stopped beating, its cadence lost on our kiss. I closed my eyes, telling myself to pull away from him, but I was incapable of following through with that one simple action.

It was tentative at first, just the slightest encounter of our lips as they brushed ever so lightly together. A feather’s touch . . . lighter even. My thready pulse spoke its own recognizable language.