READ AN EXCERPT BELOW
He must face the darkest part of himself. She must be a victim when she’s always been a predator. A love unlike any other may be their salvation.
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“Hey,” he said in a tone so gentle it warmed her insides.
“Yeah?” Before he could reply she said, “I’m okay.” After taking a moment to
gather herself, she tried to sit upright, scoffed, and slammed her back on the bed. “Why
am I tied up? And why can’t I turn?”
His gaze drifted over the room as he crossed his arms. “You’re tied up because
you’d be dead otherwise, and those chains are infused with silver.”
She gasped. Why hadn’t she concluded that herself? “Take them off. Right now.”
Tris shook his head and tucked his chin against his sternum. “Can’t.”
“What?” she said, louder than intended. She softened her voice. “Yes, you can.” She
tugged the chains. “I’m not a prisoner.”
That earned her Tris’s frown. Zestine lost her breath as understanding dawned.
“No,” she whispered. Liquid seeped from her tear ducts and rolled down her cheeks. To
wipe the tears away, she unconsciously yanked on the bonds, groaning at the resulting
clang.
“I’m sorry, but this is the only viable way to keep you alive. Don’t deny it. Tris the
Corrupted wouldn’t untie you. Tris the Corrupted would keep you prisoner.”
Still whispering, Zestine replied, “But you’re not Corrupted.”
He cocked his head, then shook it as she blinked out more tears. She understood
what he wasn’t saying. It was written plainly across his face: There’s nothing I can do.
She craned her neck to study the restraints and found it was possible to sit upright.
Her ankles were shackled to each other, but not to the bed itself. Bending her knees, she
pushed against the mattress with her heels, pulled on the vertical bars the chains were
hooked to and rose to a sitting position. She rested her chin on her knees and stared at the
stony black wall ahead. “Where are we?”
“My quarters. This is the bedroom, obviously, and there are a couple of other
rooms…”
Zestine snorted, leering at the space. His new home. How sweet. “Raptatawks don’t
sleep,” she said, mostly to herself.
Tris blew out a heavy sigh. “Other Pirmas can stay, and I think you know beds
aren’t just for sleep.”
Attention snapping his way, Zestine didn’t bother hiding a petulant laugh. “Oh, you
changed your mind? Now you want to fuck me?” She canted her head forward and peered
at him beneath her brow bones. “Stop teasing me, raptatawk.”
“Yeah?” Before he could reply she said, “I’m okay.” After taking a moment to
gather herself, she tried to sit upright, scoffed, and slammed her back on the bed. “Why
am I tied up? And why can’t I turn?”
His gaze drifted over the room as he crossed his arms. “You’re tied up because
you’d be dead otherwise, and those chains are infused with silver.”
She gasped. Why hadn’t she concluded that herself? “Take them off. Right now.”
Tris shook his head and tucked his chin against his sternum. “Can’t.”
“What?” she said, louder than intended. She softened her voice. “Yes, you can.” She
tugged the chains. “I’m not a prisoner.”
That earned her Tris’s frown. Zestine lost her breath as understanding dawned.
“No,” she whispered. Liquid seeped from her tear ducts and rolled down her cheeks. To
wipe the tears away, she unconsciously yanked on the bonds, groaning at the resulting
clang.
“I’m sorry, but this is the only viable way to keep you alive. Don’t deny it. Tris the
Corrupted wouldn’t untie you. Tris the Corrupted would keep you prisoner.”
Still whispering, Zestine replied, “But you’re not Corrupted.”
He cocked his head, then shook it as she blinked out more tears. She understood
what he wasn’t saying. It was written plainly across his face: There’s nothing I can do.
She craned her neck to study the restraints and found it was possible to sit upright.
Her ankles were shackled to each other, but not to the bed itself. Bending her knees, she
pushed against the mattress with her heels, pulled on the vertical bars the chains were
hooked to and rose to a sitting position. She rested her chin on her knees and stared at the
stony black wall ahead. “Where are we?”
“My quarters. This is the bedroom, obviously, and there are a couple of other
rooms…”
Zestine snorted, leering at the space. His new home. How sweet. “Raptatawks don’t
sleep,” she said, mostly to herself.
Tris blew out a heavy sigh. “Other Pirmas can stay, and I think you know beds
aren’t just for sleep.”
Attention snapping his way, Zestine didn’t bother hiding a petulant laugh. “Oh, you
changed your mind? Now you want to fuck me?” She canted her head forward and peered
at him beneath her brow bones. “Stop teasing me, raptatawk.”
