Nox runs through a few more self-defense techniques, and all I can do is nod my head in understanding.
Neither of us has the energy to start up the game again.
Because one of us ends up dead tonight.
And my money’s on me.
The muscles in my legs are trembling, my feet aching, my entire body longing to rest, to at least sit for a while, but Nox won’t let me.
He says I need to be on my feet. Need to be ready.
I’ve resumed my position next to the bell, even have one hand on the rope and the other on my makeshift stake.
The rough fabric of the rope wobbles from how my hand trembles.
So does the stake.
I’m not sure how well stakes work when they’re wobbling, but something tells me it tends to affect one’s aim.
“Blaise?” Nox says, and my heart gives a leap. He went quiet half an hour ago, and I’ve been waiting for some evil force to overtake his voice. I’ve even been repeating his last words to me in my head, in case they ended up being his last.
Or that last I heard, anyway.
But he sounds like himself, and the way I cling to his voice like a wet terrycloth to the mouth of a glass jar is shameful, but I’m done being embarrassed.
“Yes?”
There’s a quaver to his voice, so low it’s almost imperceptible. “I’m going to hate myself for asking you this.”
My heart throbs, and I beg it to stop, to slow down. Try to remind my pulse that it’s going to get the both of us killed.
“Ask away.”
When he turns his brilliant blue eyes on me, I know, I know I’ll grant any request he offers.
“I’d like to be selfish with you.”
My heart stutters.
“Just one last time.”
I’ve hardly nodded my head, and he’s cleared the space between us. The force of his body slams me up against the wall, but his palm braces the back of my head against the impact.
And then he’s kissing me like I’ve never been kissed before.
Like it’s the last time because—I realize—it is.
My hand tightens around the stake as I wrap my arms around him and melt into him.
Tears stream down my face, hot and salty, coating my mouth.
Nox lets out a ragged breath, then brings his lips to my ear.
“They’re all willing in the end,” he whispers, his voice slick and smooth as the oil dripping from the lantern on the wall. “But you more than the rest. Tell me, little girl. What sort of pain do you prefer?”
Something is so very wrong, my brain tells me. Because Nox sounds strange, not at all like himself.
But that’s not how he feels, and I find my mouth speaking for me. “I like whatever you like.”
“I’d like for you to drop that stake you have against my back.”
My fingers loosen of their own accord, and the stake clatters against the ground.
But that’s strange too, because Nox told me earlier exactly where to stake him if I needed to, and a stake won’t do me much good lying on the ground.
Nox’s lips trail their way down to my neck, just like earlier, when we were interrupted.
His teeth scrape against my skin.
A sharp jolt of pain.
Then unadulterated numbness.
It’s not the way my limbs go numb that frightens me.
It’s the faint memory of a memory, so far removed by pain and pleasure that I can only glimpse it from a distance, grasp at it with oiled hands.
There’s something Nox wanted me to remember, and I can’t get a hold on it, and that’s what scares me the most.
