The very room seemed to still as he stared at her, his expression blank, his body a tightly coiled wire, and then with utter grace, he knelt at her feet.
Eliza’s insides recoiled. He was so close, too close, the scent of his blood and sweat surrounding her. His gleaming chest, gently rising and falling with each breath, within touching distance. Part of her wanted to push him away, and yet, perversely, she found herself fighting a smile. Well played, sir. But Mab was watching, and so Eliza grabbed a length of golden chain that ran around his neck and yanked him down at her side. “I said ‘sit.’ ”
She suspected he toppled only because he allowed it. But he made as if to move away from her, and she gave the chain a rough jerk. “Stay.”
Though his jaw bunched, he did not move again, but heeded as a dog might. Revulsion churned within her belly. It did not matter what had passed between them, degrading another soul sickened her. Did he know this? Did he understand what she was trying to do? And did it matter?
Adam remained on his arse, still utterly unconcerned by his nakedness. Other men might have appeared vulnerable. But he wore his nudity like armor, letting the world see the strength and fluidity of his body.
“Well now,” exclaimed Mab happily, “shall we have some dancing?” At that, the musicians started up, and the crowd began to waltz.
Eliza looked on, pretending to be content, pretending to preen. But the heat of Adam’s body next to her thigh unnerved her further. She ignored it. And him. Yet she wished him to hear her unspoken promise. I will get us out.
Every inch of him screamed for mercy. Each breath Adam took threatened to have him fainting. His back had been flayed to nearly entirely raw meat. And yet he sat at Eliza’s feet with a sense of odd pride.
It grew when she nudge him roughly with her boot. “Do not crowd me, demon.” So cold her voice, her gaze barely straying to him, as though she found the mere sight of him distasteful.
He almost grinned. Ye gods, but she was clever. He’d known the second she glanced at the whip that she was loath to touch it. Even before that. She’d gone white as French linen the moment she understood what Mellan meant to do. Lucky for her, Mab and Mellan had been too engrossed in wanting to see him whipped to notice her expression. Had they done so, they would have realized, as he did, that she could no more torture another than she could stop her heart from beating. He’d wondered what she’d do; she had to have known she was caught between the whip and retreat.
But her choice had stunned him. It was so simple, so brilliant, her move. She’d understood Mab’s need to humiliate him. And played the fae bitch perfectly. For that alone, Adam would have knelt at her feet. Eliza had no clue that he’d shown her his deepest honor in doing so. She thought he was mocking her. Nor could he afford to enlighten her. So he played his part, making her force him down, to curl up at her feet like a dog.
As for Mab, she’d never understood that humiliation only worked if a man was unwilling. Having Eliza see him beaten by the prat Mellan? That was humiliating. But having Eliza whip him while knowing it was killing a bit of her soul with every strike? That would have been true torture.
On the other side of Eliza, Mellan sat. Adam did not need to see his face to know that his little torture session had not ended but was merely delayed by Eliza’s cunning. Mab might have been satisfied by his humiliation, but Mellan wasn’t. And he’d make Adam pay for it.
Chapter Six
“Demon? Adam?” The female voice was a soft hiss. Smooth hands touched his shoulder, awaking a world of hurt.
Adam tried to shrug it off. Only to receive a pinch on his earlobe in return. With a growl, he turned, capturing a slim wrist and hauling a body close. The female landed upon his battered body with a huff. Bad idea. That hurt. A lot.
Adam forced his eyes open. Still clinging to the wiggling mass of warm woman, he thrust her away as he tried to sit. “Quiet,” he muttered. “My head aches something fierce.”
Eliza scrambled back, her pretty face twisted up with irritation. “I was simply trying to wake you.”
“I’d rather sleep.” Now that he was awake, he was in pain. “Well then, what is it?”
Her gaze went to his shoulders, and he knew she thought of his back. And though it was dark, far darker than usual – she’d brought only a small torch by her side – he noted the pallor of her skin and the way she flinched.
“I am sorry,” she blurted out. “For tonight.”
“As am I.” Adam gave her a weak smile. “I’ll just as soon leave all whippings behind.”
“Yes, well, I meant… for the other…” She grimaced.
“You did well, lass. Did right.”
Her mouth opened in a little circle of surprise, but she quickly shut it. “I’m going to get us out of here.”
“As you said.” Adam wanted to laugh at her huff of impatience. “Though I’m thinking we’ll be better guarded from now on.” He glanced at the door. “How is that you’ve come here again? Eliza, you must take better care —”
“I made myself vomit,” she cut in with another grimace. “Took syrup of ipecac.” Her mouth twisted wryly. “I’m not certain you know, but fae have a decided revulsion for sickness.”
“I’ve yet to meet anyone who is fond of it, dove.”
She nearly grinned at that one, her cheeks plumping. “Well, upon hearing mine, they quarantined me in the guest wing. As for guarding the door, it is two in the morning now.” Eliza leaned in a bit. “Did you know that fae become lethargic at night? Those guards can barely keep their heads up. Slip a bit of valerian into their nightly tea…”