A Promise of Fire (Kingmaker Chronicles, #1)(32)

Carver does his best to look stricken, ignoring Beta Sinta’s glare. “Why not?”

“Don’t you know? Poseidon sent your incredibly annoying brother to me with an oracular dream. Once-in-a-lifetime thing. Except for most people. Most people never have one. Anyway”—I roll my eyes—“he probably thinks it means something.” I snort. “I’d rather eat goat balls. Or goat shit.” I frown, confused. “Or goat cheese!” I shout triumphantly.

They stare at me. I could catch flies in their open mouths. I don’t want any flies, even pink ones.

“Oracular dream?” Beta Sinta says.

“She’s a wealth of information,” Carver murmurs.

“What? Never heard of one?” I shrug. “I’m hot.” Remembering the water, I turn, trip over my own feet, and crash to the floor.

Beta Sinta sets me upright. I run again, driven by blind need. Booted footsteps follow. The rope draws taut and then gives as we burst into a bathing chamber with three naked men. I laugh at their startled expressions and then yank my tunic over my head.

Beta Sinta’s eyes widen. “For the Gods’ sakes, Cat!”

I keep stripping, tossing my clothes into a messy heap.

“Out!” he barks to the room.

There must be something scary about him because all three men jump out of the pool and run, leaving puddles on the floor.

They disappear, and I turn back to Beta Sinta. He doesn’t look that scary to me. I tilt my chin, inspecting him. His hair is the color of a starless night, shiny, and curling softly around his neck. I reach up, playing with the silky strands. They look like ink splashed across my fingers.

Smiling, I smooth stray locks away from his face and then pat his head. “Good Beta.”

There’s a low rumble in his throat.

“Woof!” I bark back.

He grins. Then his eyes drop to my bare chest. His smile freezes, his nostrils flaring as his hands curl into fists.

Heat explodes inside me along with a thousand tiny wings. A flush sweeps up my neck. My nipples harden under his smoldering gaze, and I’m suddenly intensely aware of my own breasts—the sway and the weight, the roundness of them. A muscle ticks in his jaw before his eyes drift down, taking in the rest of me. His expression reminds me of a starving man who just stumbled upon his next meal. Focused. Hungry. Ready to pounce.

“Untie me or get in.” My voice is husky. There’s a butterfly colony inside me.

Beta Sinta steps closer to shield me from Carver’s view, ordering his brother out of the room. Carrying most of our purchases, Carver backs away with his usual bravado. I blow him a saucy kiss over Beta Sinta’s shoulder, startled when a violent sound rattles in Beta Sinta’s chest.

Carver laughs his way out of the room. Quickly.

Warm air brushes my skin. All of it. It’s Beta Sinta’s heat. He’s that close. I think I’m forgetting something important.

Silver eyes meet mine. “Give me your binding word you won’t leave without me.”

“All right.”

“Say it.”

I roll my eyes and bow, adding a pompous hand flourish. “I won’t leave the bathing chamber without you, O Imperious One.”

His mouth twitches, and I preen, oddly elated that I make him laugh.

Beta Sinta unties the rope, which I think I should care more about. His fingers barely brush my waist, but the contact makes my breath catch and my belly tighten. Tiny flames lick my skin where he touches. I shouldn’t like it, but I do.

The moment the rope drops away, I take a deep breath, dive into the pool, and swim the entire length underwater. Bliss.

I pop up, laughing, and then swim for what feels like hours. My hands and feet wrinkle like month-old grapes, but I keep swimming, Poseidon’s ocean in my ears. Beta Sinta paces the length of the pool, shadowing me. I splash him, and he frowns. I invite him in, and he shakes his head. I don’t know why he won’t join me. I haven’t had this much fun in…well, ever. Too bad he’s such a grump.

Sometime after dark, exhaustion hits me like a Cyclops’s fist. I go limp, my muscles used and tired and so heavy I can barely move. Nothing is pink. Nothing is wonderful. I’m not dizzy or happy, and Beta Sinta watching me swim around naked isn’t even remotely funny anymore. Gasping, I try to turn invisible—that important thing I was forgetting earlier—and can’t. I’m too weak. I try again, but nothing happens. The blood drains from my face so fast I see spots.

Beta Sinta’s eyes sharpen. He takes a step forward, hesitates, and then stops, hovering on the edge of action.

My face flames as humiliation sweeps me into dark places. I’d rather take a hundred beatings than this. This is torture.

My eyes sting, and I fight back tears. Cats don’t cry. But this time, I think I might. Years of dread crash down on me, and I shudder, wondering if I can just let myself drown to save the realms from the calamity of Cat.

Standing in the water, I hang my head, my dark hair floating around my shoulders like a peacock’s fan at midnight. I can see my toes through the water. I can see everything. So can he.

“That’s why addicts stay high,” Beta Sinta says from the side of the pool. “It’s too awful when it ends.”

I sniff. I can’t look at him. I won’t.

“Come.” He holds out the gaudy red drying cloth I chose. It’s hideous and oversized.