The Offering (The Pledge 3)

“I missed you, ma’am,” he whispered, right before his lips claimed hers.

She wanted to push him away—to shoot or stab him, or step on his foot. But his mouth made a convincing argument, and instead she leaned closer, surrendering completely. Telling him with her impatient lips and the coaxing of her tongue the things she refused to voice out loud.

That she’d missed him, too. That she’d hated being apart from him.

That she wanted him.

And that was how an entire band of her own soldiers came upon the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms, groping clothes and tugging hair, and straining to be closer to each other. She never heard so much as a single hoof strike against the ground.

It wasn’t until Max—Max, of all people!—shouted her name that she was even aware they were no longer alone.

Her face burned for an entirely different reason as she shoved away from Aron, who seemed to feel none of the shame she did. “Let go,” she muttered under her breath when he kept her tangled in his embrace.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, chuckling, but he didn’t stop touching her. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her to him, as if daring her to pull away. It was possessive, and sort of endearing, and she’d missed the feel of him far too much to try to step away.

“Where’s Charlie?” Max insisted breathlessly as he dismounted from his horse. He broke any spell Brook had fallen under upon Aron’s arrival, the immediacy in his tone reminding Brooklynn that Charlie was still out there . . . with Niko. “We . . .” She glanced down at the dead soldier on the ground in front of her. “We were attacked.” She struggled with how to explain it all. “Niko was here, and he . . . he took Charlie.” She could hardly believe it herself, and still didn’t understand why Niko would be working with Elena.

Max surveyed the scene—the bodies; the bruises on Brook’s face; and the bloodied knife, still in her hand. “Well, you did the best you could. I know you wouldn’t have let him take her unless you’d been overpowered.”

Brook looked down at the knife she clutched, and then at the soldier lying at her feet. “I didn’t do this,” she explained. “Charlie did. She fought and killed him. I’ve never seen anything like it. Not from her.”

Max looked as stunned as she’d felt, and then a look of understanding crossed his face. “I guess she wasn’t joking when she said Zafir had been teaching her to fight.” He scrubbed his hand over his stubbled jaw. “But Niko? Why Niko? What did he say?”

“I don’t know. I was hiding. I was planning to follow them—” Max stopped her with a raised brow, and she tried to explain. “That—that was when Aron found me,” she stammered. “I didn’t have a chance to formulate a plan. I’m not sure where they were going, or what Niko had in mind. They have Eden, too, though. She’ll keep Charlie safe till we find her.”

Max was already getting back onto his horse and talking to one of her soldiers—one who would normally be taking orders from Brooklynn herself. “Get the commander a horse,” he barked. “She’s going to lead us to Queen Charlaina.”

XIII

“You’re making a mistake,” I told Niko, even though I’d already said as much. Even though he’d already ignored this very same threat time and time again. “You’ll be executed for taking me prisoner. It’s nothing short of treason.”

Inside, Sabara wrestled with me, attempting to gain control once and for all. She wanted more than to intimidate Niko. She craved so, so much more.

The problem was, I was doing a less than impressive job restraining her, and Niko was the reason. His presence distracted me and made Sabara stronger, giving her the incentive she needed to keep trying, trying, trying.

He scooted closer to me in the seat we shared, pinning me against the wall of the VAN. I couldn’t help but react instinctively to the scent of him, his masculine odor of sweat and leather that should have made me recoil but instead had me straining to be nearer to him.

“It would be treason only if I were one of your subjects,” he protested in a low voice that filled every inch of the cramped space. He was too close to me now, and I told myself to pull away. But my head was spinning and I could feel Sabara’s stranglehold on me tightening. “Besides, you’re not my prisoner. You’re my guest.”

“Then untie me,” I shot back, my voice, at least, not betraying me. His lips curved into a delicious smile that coaxed me the barest amount closer. I felt a surge of something charged, something dizzying, course through me, and the last of my control slipped away. His words, when I heard them, seemed to come from far, far away. “It’s not that simple, Charlaina.”

It was the use of my name—and not hers—that broke the spell I’d very nearly fallen under. I blinked, and blinked again. I shook my head to clear my muddled thoughts at the moment when his lips were almost upon mine.

Our noses banged together, and his eyes widened, as if he were as surprised as I’d been to find us so close to kissing. He wasn’t fooling anyone, of course.

“Stop it,” I hissed, speaking to both Niko and Sabara now. “Leave me alone.” I glanced over to where Eden sat, her hands and feet tied so tightly, her fingers were turning an uncommon shade of blue. There was a gag stuffed into her mouth. One of the remaining soldiers, his mask still on his face, stood above her with the tip of a rifle pressed lightly to her temple as the VAN leapt unevenly over the terrain. I watched his finger, praying it didn’t slip on the trigger.