Book 5: Blackmail

Amval

Thud…thud….

Only the spike of pain through my skull tells me that’s my head–hitting the bottom of… something. I blink my eyes open, but such total blackness meets them that I try twice before giving up.

Where under the sky am I?

The last thing I remember is….

My mate. Impossibly beautiful in my arms, moaning underneath me. The memory of her scent, ink and violets, clouds my nose as my throat throbs.

That must be my mark. I try to reach for it, to feel its shape, but something scrapes against my raw wrists, and I hiss.

Thick, fibrous rope. Holding me in place.

I have been kidnapped.

Slowly, I breathe in through my nose and then out again. Mother and Father trained me for if this ever happened. The blackness over my eyes must be some kind of blindfold or cover. It reeks of old produce—likely a bag, then. The same rough fabric sandpapers my body, some kind of robe. I test moving one of my legs and find it free