Sitting in a late model Rolls Royce, Luna stared through the tinted windows at the gold ornate gate, a large ‘R’ in the center of the crest parted down the middle as it opened.

Uilleam had agreed so easily to half a million dollars, and while she had thought the amount was exorbitant, now she was starting to understand how he so easily parted with the money.

From the looks of it, he probably had more money than she could even fathom. Not just because of the jet he chartered, or even the car they were riding in, but because when they arrived here—wherever here was exactly—she saw a true testament to his wealth.

“Runehart Château,” he said absently as they idled, waiting for the gates to open far enough that they could drive through.

While he had seemed quite interested in her when they first boarded the plane and he questioned her about her life both before and during her captivity with Lawrence, he hadn’t said much else once they landed.

But the silence was a welcome relief.

“You’ll remain here,” Uilleam said as he pocketed the phone that held his attention for the last hour or so. “And to quell whatever thoughts you have of running the moment you’re out of my sight, I have this for you.”

He held up a thin black band in his left hand, a red light illuminating from the middle of it like a beacon.

“It’s a tracking device,” he explained. “A bit more sophisticated than most—waterproof and tamperproof—and should you think to run with this little device on your leg, it will send seventy-thousand volts of electricity through you. Now, I hope that deters any hint of rebellion, but should it not, feel free to test it. It’ll amuse me. Of course, you’re free to walk the grounds if you’d like, but should you go beyond those gates we drove through, you won’t like the consequences.”

When he reached for her leg, she jolted back, though there was hardly any room in the car for her to get anywhere. “You don’t have to do that. I won’t try to leave.”

“I believe you,” he said, though he didn’t sound like he believed that at all, “but you’re an investment I can’t afford to lose.”

Investment … It wasn’t the first time he’d said something similar, but she couldn’t for the life of her understand what he meant.

Before she could pull away again, he fastened the thing around her ankle, smiling proudly as if he had given her something special.

“Give it time,” he said, sitting back. “You won’t even realize it’s there.”

Though she was very much aware of it in the moment, she did believe that he was right. It was significantly lighter than the chain Lawrence had always kept on her.

As they slowly made their way up the winding drive, Luna understood exactly what he meant by ‘grounds.’ They were extensive, lush green lawns extending as far as the eye could see and beyond, and there were enough trees in the distance that it allowed for privacy from anyone within miles of this place. Come to think of it, she couldn’t recall seeing any other residences on their drive here.

The grounds, however, were nothing compared to the looming structure that grew larger the closer they came. A château, he had called it. Had he not, she would have thought the massive place was a castle.

Yet, as magnificent as it all was, the number of guards stationed around the property snared her attention. All of them were in dark gear with assault rifles strapped across their backs.

There were four that she could see, all wearing intricately detailed masks.

One was gunmetal gray with dark eye sockets, but nothing where the mouth should have been—to see, but not be heard. Another was painted to resemble a melting skull. The third was plain black, but there were words scrawled in white along the top of it—iarta-ma—and the last only had a rather wide smiling mouth drawn on it.

Seeing them waiting there, Luna wondered just who Uilleam was, and who he was expecting to come after him to hire men like these.

Once they finally slowed to a stop, the door to the car was opened, a hand popping in to assist her out. Uilleam wasn’t far behind.

She followed the man in front of her across the drive, and up the sandstone staircase toward heavy oak doors that made up the front entrance. Uilleam pushed both open as he entered, sunlight spilling into the foyer where a chandelier that was twice the size of any one she had ever seen glittered with the reflecting light.

It was amazing, but so had Lawrence’s home been—though that place did pale in comparison to this one.

Uilleam didn’t allow her a chance to properly take it all in, rather showing her down a seemingly never-ending hallway to a room with a blue door.

Once inside, he said, “Bathroom is through there,”—he pointed to another closed door on the other end of the room—“and I’ll ensure you have everything you need before I leave, but should you require anything else, ask for Kit.”

Wait … “You’re leaving?” she asked, not quite understanding.

“I can never stay too long here,” he said by way of explanation, as though that answer explained everything.

If anything, it only raised more questions.

One of the guards she’d seen outside appeared in the doorway, words that she didn’t understand flying out of his mouth. With only a nod in her direction, Uilleam followed after him, closing the door behind them.

What the hell was going on?

She thought she understood what was happening here, but it was clear she didn’t.

Taking the time to look around while she still could, the room didn’t disappoint.

There was a large four-poster bed in the center of the room, the sheer drapes surrounding it tumbling down onto the floor, hooked behind small handles to give a proper view of the bed.

Everything about the space felt light, airy, thanks to the light shades of gray coupled with the white. Even the floors, a polished concrete, added to the beauty of it all.

It was obvious that someone had taken the time to restore some of the original architecture, and while the space wasn’t completely modern, it didn’t have the heavy feel of a room from earlier centuries.

Luna explored every inch of it, even venturing out onto the vine-covered balcony. She wasn’t far from the ground, and with some careful maneuvering, she could have easily reached the ground, but the slight weight of the tracker Uilleam had strapped to her leg banished the thought for the time being.

When there was nothing more to see, she looked back toward the door Uilleam had walked out of mere minutes before. He had said she was free to walk around, to do as she pleased really, but only to an extent.

It may have been pretty, the room he’d given her but it was still a prison.

Quietly stepping out of the bedroom, her eyes scanned the lengthy hallway, taking everything in. She could hear voices coming from her right, too high to be The Kingmaker’s low timbre.

She started down the opposite direction instead.

There was so much she hadn’t noticed the first time she’d walked these halls when Uilleam brought her in.

Paintings in gilded frames lined the walls, portraits of sharply dressed men and women in elegant gowns depicted within their paint.

As she neared the end of the hall where it opened into the grand foyer, she noticed there was a portrait missing from the wall—a void from where it should have been outlining its former position. It had to have been moved recently due to the variance in the color of the wall.

The one beside it, however, caught her attention as well. The individual depicted was decades younger than the others hanging alongside him.

And he also looked … kinder.

“Hello.”

Luna nearly jumped a foot in the air as she spun to face the owner of that accented voice who was suddenly standing at her back. He moved nearly as quietly as Dominic did.

The man—boy just seemed inadequate though he didn’t seem much older than her—was tall, taller than she was expecting, and once she settled on his face, she realized she was staring at the subject of the painting to her right.

Messy brown hair that fell nearly to his ears was shoved back out of his face, as though he ran his fingers through it incessantly. There was also enough hair covering his jaw to tell her he hadn’t shaved in weeks, if not a month or more. Blessed with strong, aristocratic features, and a slight cleft in his chin, he was by far one of the most attractive people—outside of Uilleam—she had ever seen in her life, not that she gazed upon people like them every day.

Eyes the palest shade of blue they were almost gray, watched her unblinking. They were cold, unforgiving, but the way dark brows arched over them, almost making him look perpetually curious, softened them.

Whoever he was, while he radiated a dangerous aura, he didn’t appear threatening.

Muscular arms folded across his chest as he leaned a shoulder against the wall, the expensive fabric of his shirt pulling taut.

“Who are you?” he asked, though not unkindly. “You’re not one of his projects. You’re too … young.”

And that fact seemed to trouble him.

“Luna,” she said, not really sure why she was answering him. “My name is Luna.”

Maybe because she wanted to be seen as a person, for however long that lasted before Uilleam told him exactly who and what she was.

Men … their faces always changed. Where there had once been indifference at the sight of her, it was replaced quickly with a disgusting lust—as though the thought of getting their hands on a girl they thought couldn’t say, ‘no’ was all the more appealing.

She just wanted to be human for a little while longer.

To her surprise, he uncrossed his arms, extending a hand between them. He held it there wordlessly, never looking away from her. Realizing he was waiting for her, she hesitantly extended her own, her skin coming alive as his much larger one closed around hers.

His hand was rough, not like the pudgy, sweaty fingers of men who Lawrence used to have around—there was strength in his hold.

“Kit Runehart,” he answered in return, sweeping his thumb over the back of her hand, and when he did, she yanked her hand free, tucking it close to her side.

She was almost embarrassed by the knee-jerk reaction, not liking the idea of him seeing weakness in her.

He wasn’t offended by what she did, quite the opposite it seemed as he said, “Apologies.”

Luna felt the stupid urge that she should apologize to him, as though she had done something wrong, but she tamped down that urge as deep as she could.

Her brain was only just now catching up to him being the one who Uilleam had meant for her to find should she need anything.

Now seeing him, she almost wished that Uilleam had meant one of the guards, or an assistant or something.

Kit made her nervous, and she hadn’t the slightest idea why.

Realizing that she hadn’t really answered his question, she added, “He brought me here.”

“He did?”

“The Kingmaker?”

She formed her answer as a question, not sure what name he knew the other man by. Though Uilleam had given her his name, no one else seemed to use it.

She wasn’t sure if that was by request, or whether they just didn’t know it.

An emotion flashed in Kit’s eyes. “That’s what they call him anyway. I understand he brought you to my home, yes, but I’m not sure as to the reason why.”

Luna wasn’t even sure of that answer herself. He spoke of her doing something for him, but he had also mentioned that it wouldn’t be this day that she performed the task—truthfully, he hadn’t even said when, exactly, he would need her to do it.

“I bought her,” Uilleam said, his voice carrying from down the hall as he approached, a glass in hand.

If she thought Kit would look unsettled by this, he didn’t. The expression on his face made her think this wasn’t a rare occurrence. “For what purpose?”

“I didn’t purchase her for my own benefit, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Kit’s eyes flickered to her a moment before he said, “Very little doesn’t benefit you in some way.”

As Uilleam came closer, and they stood nearly side by side, she could see it.

The cut of their jaws …

The impressive heights …

And though their eye colors differed, there was a similarity to their eye shape and the dark lashes that lined them both.

Brothers, she realized. They were brothers.

A muscle worked in Kit’s jaw as he asked, “She’s a little young for what you need, isn’t she?”

There was a dark sort of humor to Uilleam’s expression. “Should I be asking that of you?”

He said something else, something she didn’t understand since he spoke in a different language. Kit answered back in the same, his tone gruff.

Whatever exchange they were having finished as Kit sliced his hand through the air, silencing whatever Uilleam thought to say next. While Lawrence had seemed to quake at the thought of upsetting Uilleam, Kit didn’t seem to feel such fear.

“Excuse us, Luna,” he said, looking from his brother to her, the colorful accent that marked his words drawing the syllables of her name out. “Continue as you were.”

The pair walked off without another word, leaving her standing there looking after them. Once they were out of sight, however, she quickly turned back the way she came and closed herself into her room, thinking it was probably best to stay out of sight.

And because she was still tired from the journey and her lack of sleep, Luna made sure each of the doors to the room was locked before she climbed up onto the bed and willed herself to sleep.

---

It wasn’t until hours later that Luna came awake with a start, sitting bolt upright as her eyes scanned the room. In her delirium, it all came rushing back.

The auction.

Her life being sold to a man that seemed a conundrum.

And Kit.

There was also Kit.

A minute at most she had spent in his presence and she still felt … affected by him. But her interest in him, and even his brother, was not sexual. She could admit that they were both handsome, more so than most men she had ever seen in her short life, but she didn’t feel any desire toward them.

She didn’t think she could feel desire at all, not after everything she’d endured.

Mostly, she was curious.

Curious how a man as young as Uilleam could spark subservience in men like Lawrence. He was just so young, only old enough to be her older brother, yet he seemed fearless, content in the knowledge that he would get his way.

And then there was Kit.

What did it say about the man who wasn’t afraid of the one everyone seemed to fear?

Did that mean he was worse?

But she couldn’t possibly answer that question, not when she wasn’t even sure what Uilleam was made of.

Not entirely.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Luna wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she had watched the pair of brothers walk away, but she guessed several hours since the room was dark, and the sunlight that had shone through the French doors was now absent as the moon hung heavy in the night sky.

Her stomach rumbling from the lack of food, she made a stop in the bathroom to wash her face free of the remaining traces of makeup she had worn. Looking at her reflection now, she still looked haggard, her eyes a little too sunken, her skin a touch too pale, but beneath that layer, she saw a glimmer of hope.

Even if foolish, she clung to it.

After her last encounter with him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to run into Kit again. He had seemed rather … agitated, and even if it were aimed more at Uilleam than her, she thought it best to avoid him entirely.

Maybe one of the guards could find her Uilleam instead.

Venturing back out, this time she didn’t linger in the hall to look over the portraits, moving on well past them, though her gaze, unbidden, had flitted to Kit’s before she hit the foyer.

It was quiet here, barren. And despite all the men she had seen earlier walking the grounds, either they were very good at what they did, or this place was bigger than she had originally suspected.

The marble flooring was cold beneath her feet as she entered what looked like a formal dining room, with a table that stretched nearly wall to wall and a place setting in front of each of the eighteen chairs. But there was only one setting at the head of the table that had a set of glasses accompanying it, as well as forks and knives.

And the closer she walked toward it, the better she could smell whatever was cooking in the kitchen. The aroma made her mouth water, her stomach tightening with hunger. Besides the nibbles of the sandwich she’d eaten on the plane, she hadn’t had much else over the last twenty-four hours or so.

She would need to ask permission first before she touched anything. Back at the estate, Luna had never been able to eat freely—offered only two meals a day, and only if she performed good enough to deserve them.

In the beginning, Luna had gone days without eating.

“Luna, is it?” a voice called from behind her.

A woman with flowing light blonde hair stood across the room, eyes trained on Luna as she dropped the hand she held her phone in to her side.

She wasn’t what Luna was expecting.

Just the sight of her made Luna feel inadequate. Her hair shone in the dim light of the room, makeup was expertly applied, and there was nothing cheap about the skirt and blouse set she wore. She could have been early-to-late twenties for all Luna could tell—there wasn’t an imperfection on her.

“I—yes, I was looking for Uil—The Kingmaker,” she quickly corrected herself, wishing she hadn’t stammered through that entire sentence.

The woman’s smile was patient. “He’s stepped out at the moment, but I’m sure I can assist you with whatever you need. I’m Aidra.”

He had told her he was leaving, but she hadn’t believed it would be this soon— then again, she didn’t know what time it was, nor how long she’d been asleep.

“I’m sorry, I was just going back—” Luna pointed in the direction she meant. It wasn’t fear that had her wanting to get back to her room, but anxiousness of what was coming next.

Uilleam had seemed rather open, at least—or rather open about his intentions. Kit, and now Aidra … she couldn’t glean a thing.

“Please, have a seat. Nix should be along shortly,” Aidra offered as she gestured to one of the many seats available.

“Nix?”

“Kit,” she explained, though her mouth twisted when she said his name, as though she weren’t accustomed to using it.

“Is that a nickname?” Luna asked, wondering why it seemed as though everyone she was meeting went by something other than their real name.

“A moniker, if you will. It helps to conceal your identity,” Aidra explained further, also answering the question she hadn’t asked.

“And do you have one?” It only seemed right that she would.

“I’ve never had need of one.”

Luna waited, thinking she would elaborate, but Aidra didn’t. It took her a moment to realize that her response hadn’t actually answered her question.

Maybe she just didn’t want to share it with Luna.

Was she Kit’s wife? Was this their home that Uilleam had dumped her in, and she wasn’t pleased?

Yet she was being cordial, nice even, without a hint of malice in her tone at all.

Strange. It was all very strange.

Glancing down at her own attire—the same short dress from before—then around the dining room once more, Luna felt self-conscious. “I probably shouldn’t. I’m not really dressed—”

“Don’t worry. Uilleam called ahead to let us know you were coming. I’ve had a few things ordered that should arrive tomorrow. For now, don’t concern yourself with that.”

While there was no sympathy in the woman’s eyes, there was also no pity—Luna couldn’t say she minded.

“Are you Kit’s wife?” Luna asked.

Aidra’s careful mask of indifference slipped as she looked quite shocked at the question. “Assistant would be a better term.”

Speaking of him, Kit came around the corner, his gaze immediately falling on Luna. Gone was his black-on-black ensemble, replaced with gray trousers and a white shirt that was neatly tucked inside them, the top button near the collar left undone.

Something was different about the way he looked at her now. Curiosity was still present, sure, but there was something else there—something that told her he knew about where she’d come from.

Uilleam had told him, as she thought he would.

Would he treat her differently now?

“Good evening, Luna.”

Kit didn’t have a voice like any other she had ever heard. It was rich, a decadent sound that was pleasing to the ear. Even his cadence, something she had never really paid attention to was nice.

A part of her had hoped that Uilleam would be walking in behind him, her gaze skirting past him to the dark hallway.

“Looking for someone?” he asked.

“Is The Kingmaker coming back?”

His expression turned thoughtful. “Most aren’t keen on remaining in Uilleam’s company. Is there something you need?”

It wasn’t that she needed anything in particular, but rather that she was a bit nervous about being alone with him though she had no reason to be.

She would have asked if she could just skip whatever dinner he was having and retreat back to her room, but her stomach chose that moment to growl louder than she had ever heard it before.

“Come,” he said with his arm outstretched, but just before his fingers could come in contact with her skin, he looked down at her and asked, “May I?”

She hadn’t forgotten the way she jerked away from him earlier in the hallway, or his apology after.

And now, he was asking permission to touch her again …

Such an innocent thing, but it meant more to her than she could ever put into words.

Giving the slightest of nods, she waited for the moment she felt his touch, just the slightest pressure on her back before she started toward the table and away from the spot she’d been standing in for the longest time.

He pulled her chair out, pushing it forward once she was seated, then circled to take his own seat at the head of the table where the place setting was waiting.

It shouldn’t have been anything difficult, sitting at a table to eat like a normal person, but she almost felt clumsy as she adjusted in the chair.

Over the last few years, she couldn’t remember the last time she ate at a table as opposed to on the floor. Sitting there, she felt out of place, like she didn’t belong.

“Have you any allergies?” Kit asked, resting his elbows on the table. “Best I know now lest I kill you by mistake.” When she winced, he amended, “Poor choice of words.”

“Nothing that I’m aware of,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

She didn’t understand what it was about him that made her more wary of his presence than Uilleam’s, especially with their relation, but she felt on edge around him.

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since they’d sat down that the doors leading into the kitchen were pushed open, a staff of two coming through them carrying domed trays.

Lobster Caesar salad and a basket of rolls, amongst other things, were presented, but Luna didn’t think she had the stomach for any of it anymore.

It was the lobster, the smell of it. She could remember all too well why she hated the aroma.

Lawrence liked to toy with her every few days, bringing in the dish every chance he could.

Sometimes, she had been able to hear the heavy waves crashing against the shore, making her think they were close to the ocean—it would also explain all the seafood he ate.

So many nights, he would come into her room with plates of food, forcing her to kneel on the floor next to his feet as he ate his meal, but not before he made it a point to show her exactly what she was missing. He would spear some of it, holding it beneath her nose to make her hunger grow, and only when she begged did he finally eat without giving her any, laughing at her weakness.

No, she really hated the smell of lobster.

Kit’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Is something wrong?”

Though the smell of it was making her mouth water with the urge to vomit, Luna shook her head, forcing a smile.

She was supposed to be grateful—that was what Lawrence had always told her.

Kit didn’t leave it at that. “Better to tell an unkind truth than to tell a lie.”

That was easy to say, but she had seen the consequences of unwanted opinions. “I’m fine.”

He looked like he wanted to argue further, but he remained silent, not speaking again until their plates were placed in front of them. “How well do you know Uilleam?”

“Not very well.”

Kit looked skeptical. “But well enough that he told you his name.”

Luna didn’t realize her mistake until then, but she didn’t get the chance to correct herself before he went on.

“Have you crossed paths with him before?”

She shook her head.

“Are you sure you just don’t remember him?”

Luna shook her head again. “I don’t think I would have forgotten him.”

Kit’s lips thinned. “No? Why’s that?”

She couldn’t say why that question rankled her. “Because I haven’t forgotten any of them. I’ve never seen him before today.” Or yesterday … she wasn’t sure what day it was.

“That, I believe.”

Luna looked at him, not understanding his change of response.

Kit explained, “Lying, you’re terrible at it. When I asked if you were fine, you clenched your hand, but when I asked if you knew Uilleam, you didn’t tense. Learn to break that habit.”

He’d barely finished that statement before she was ducking her hands beneath the table. It was unnerving, the way he watched her—studied her. She couldn’t understand for the life of her what he was seeing that made him stare for so long.

Luna’s gaze flickered over to Aidra, where the woman was now seated in a chair across the room, a tablet in her hands as she scanned something.

If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought Aidra had no longer been in the room.

“Would you care to tell me why you don’t eat lobster?” he asked, drawing Luna’s attention back to him as he raised his fork.

She blinked in surprise, looking down at the plate in front of her, wondering when she had given him any indication she didn’t like it. “I—”

“The truth this time.”

Chewing her lip, she thought about not answering, but figured there was no point since he would probably force it out of her. “It was his favorite,” she said eventually.

“He?”

“Lawrence Kendall. He—”

“Emmett Kendall’s son,” Kit said thoughtfully. “I’m familiar with them both.”

Did that mean he frequented the Kendall Estate?

He was attractive, more than attractive really, but then again, maybe he needed the power kick like Lawrence. It wasn’t about the girl anymore, but rather the strength they could wield.

When she didn’t answer, Kit’s gaze shifted to Aidra, words falling from his lips in a language Luna didn’t understand. The other woman responded in kind before she nodded and started off into the kitchen, taking Luna’s plate as she went.

“It’s really not—”

“How did you find yourself in Emmett’s brothel?” Kit interrupted, picking up his glass of water. “Did he find you or did you find him?”

He made it sound as though she had a choice in the matter—that she had actively sought out being a slave to Lawrence’s wants. “Neither. I was given to him.”

He nodded, but like his brother, he didn’t seem very interested in the information, making Luna wonder why he had even bothered to ask. “And I assume you were then offered to Lawrence?”

“Not exactly.”

Kit looked confused. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

Luna fidgeted with her hands in her lap, her leg bouncing beneath the table. “I was supposed to be one of the girls—Emmett’s girls—but Lawrence wanted me to himself.”

“Was that not preferable to the other possibility?”

“Are you serious?” The question exploded out of her before she could swallow it back down.

The way he made it sound, she should have been appreciative that Lawrence had chosen her, as though everything he had put her through couldn’t have possibly been as bad compared to what she might have suffered at the hands of others.

Kit didn’t look apologetic, but he was regarding her differently now. “I—”

“No, I never considered who I would prefer to be raped by when I was there. And no, when I was fourteen, or the three years since, I didn’t want Lawrence, or his friends.”

What suspiciously sounded like a curse sprang from his mouth as he dropped his fork with a clatter on his plate, the rest of his food left untouched. “It was a poor choice of words. I didn’t mean to imply—”

“If I was given a preference, I would have chosen not to have Lawrence’s attention.” Her eyes stung with the need to cry, her fists clenched tight. “There was a time limit for the men that came there—I’m sure you remember that well—so they took what they wanted then left. There was no leaving with Lawrence. When he wanted to rape me, he did. It didn’t matter when, where, or who was watching. So if you think I wanted that, you’re as sick as he is.”

“My apologies, Luna,” he whispered.

And he actually sounded sorry, but Luna didn’t care—she was under no obligation to.

“Can I go?” she asked looking down at her hands.

She wanted to get out of there, to escape from this disaster—at least before she made a fool of herself and actually cried. She had learned to hold them in when she was with Lawrence because he craved them—hey were what got him off the most besides her pain—and she wasn’t going to let him make her cry just because he hurt her feelings.

“You haven’t eaten,” he pointed out, oddly.

Did he think that really mattered?

“I’m not hungry.” It wouldn’t be the first time she went to bed on an empty stomach. Another day wouldn’t hurt.

But Kit wasn’t willing to give up that quickly. “I offended you—that wasn’t my intention.”

Maybe he hadn’t, but the damage was already done. So for once, Luna did something she usually didn’t.

She squeezed her eyes shut a moment before saying, “Please.”

Kit looked like he wanted to argue further, but ultimately he sat back with a sigh, and nodded once.

Luna was out of her seat in seconds, careful not to disturb the new plate setting as she slipped out of the chair and darted off back down the hallway.

But when she got back to her room, she didn’t go to bed as she’d intended, but slipped out the French doors, sitting down near the very edge of the stone balcony where she had the best view of the moon and stars.

This, she thought with emotion squeezing in her chest, this was as close to freedom as she would ever get.

But … it didn’t have to be.

Uilleam had told her before he disappeared that she was free to walk the grounds, so at the very least, she could leave this room.

She wanted to feel the grass beneath her feet—feel the cool air on her skin and breathe it all in.

She wanted to feel alive.

Glancing over the balcony once more, she tried to gauge the drop before carefully swinging one leg over, checking her balance, and then doing the other. Carefully, she laid her palms on the stone and dropped, wind whistling through her hair as she rushed to the ground, landing with a stumble before losing her footing.

With a triumphant smile, Luna rolled onto her stomach before pushing to her feet. The blades of grass were slightly damp, though the sky was clear.

She was walking at first, content at just feeling the blades of grass beneath her feet, then she was running, away from the château, away from the man inside it, and away from the reminder that her life was not her own.

Luna didn’t know where she was going, if there was anywhere to go, but she ran as fast as her feet would carry her.

There was a lightness to her step as she darted across the lawn. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Luna didn’t stop until she was yards away from her new home.

Out here, the strain lessened.

She could do this.

She could survive for a little while longer until she’d repaid her debt.

In her haste to get away, Luna hadn’t considered where Kit’s guards were stationed. She was just coming around a marble sculpture when she stopped short, nearly running into one of the four from earlier.

His mask, or rather the glowing art that decorated it, was all Luna could see—the only one that hadn’t added any design to his besides the void where the mouth should have been.

Never mind the disturbing mask he wore, he was still dressed as though he were going to war with a gun in his hands.

He didn’t speak, and she almost wished he had because the eerie silence they were standing in only made her more nervous. When she took a step back, his head canted to one side like an animal.

When she took another, he cocked the hammer back on the gun in his hand. She didn’t move another inch.

Though she couldn’t see his face, she could tell he was looking at her as he pressed a button on the side of his vest.

Not a minute later, footsteps sounded behind her. She was almost too afraid to turn around and face whoever was standing there—and despite their conversation, a part of her hoped it would be Kit, if only because he could call this man off.

Her wish was granted as she turned and found him standing there.

Was he upset?

Was he annoyed?

She couldn’t tell—his face revealed nothing. Not sure if she was in trouble or not, she remained silent, clasping her hands behind her back, though she quickly moved them back. She wasn’t with Lawrence anymore.

Kit caught her movement, though, his eyes darting down a moment before returning to her face. “Perhaps you would like to go through the door next time? And don’t,” he said when she opened her mouth, “don’t apologize. There’s no need. You’re not my prisoner—you can venture where you like.”

Gaze going beyond her, he offered clipped words to the man standing behind her, but she got the gist of what he was saying as the guard stashed his gun away and started around them, though not before giving a two-finger salute as the shadows swallowed him.

Unbidden, Luna asked, “Is he always so silent?”

“Tăcut can’t speak.”

“Is that a rule of yours?”

“His vocal cords were removed.”

Luna put her own hand up to her throat, looking at where he had disappeared. “Why would you do that?” Luna didn’t think that anyone would want that willingly.

“It was before I knew him.”

An apology was on the tip of her tongue, but she remembered the way he told her not to, and decided to keep it to herself.

She had been looking so intently toward the château that she hadn’t realized Kit was studying her until the silence seemed to echo.

“I apologize for what I said earlier,” he said, his voice a touch kinder than before. “My intention wasn’t to offend.”

Luna couldn’t remember the last time someone had apologized to her, especially for something that most wouldn’t consider a big thing. The ridiculous urge to tell him that it was fine, he hadn’t hurt her feelings that bad came over her, but she swallowed those words back down.

Instead, she said, “You don’t have to apologize.”

“When I’m wrong, I will.” Holding his hand out toward the house, he asked, “Shall we?”

He led her to a door, stepping off to the side to allow her to go ahead of him. She could smell the chlorine scenting the air wherever they were, but it wasn’t until he had the door closed once more did the lights suddenly flicker on and she could see the pool.

It was … amazing.

At home, hers had been one of those above-ground pools that was large but unsightly. This one was a beauty to see.

Blue mosaic tile lined the interior of the pool, making the water shine brighter, but it was the light fixtures on the ceiling that made the water sparkle.

“Constellations,” Kit explained reaching her side.

She had figured they were stars, but she had never been very good at seeing the patterns. “Is it the Big Dipper?”

A corner of his lips tugged, but he didn’t smile completely. “Look here.”

He pointed, tracing out the shape for her to see, but even as she smiled, she still didn’t know what he had shown her.

“The Phoenix.”

If she squinted, she could almost imagine it up there. “Why the phoenix?”

His smile was distant, secretive. “You’ll learn soon enough.”

Outside of the pool room, there was a sauna and a personal gym, and once the hallway narrowed, there was a stone staircase that led back up to the main floor of the château.

Luna thought that he would venture off now that she was back inside—and probably thoroughly locked in—but he walked her to her room instead. And when they got there, Luna understood why.

There was a tray of food waiting for her in front of the door, laden with more than she had seen in days.

“Aidra will find you in the morning,” Kit said glancing from it to her. “If there’s something you don’t like, let her know and she’ll make sure the chefs are properly informed.”

“You don’t have to go through that trouble.”

“It’s not a problem at all.”

Well … “Thank you.”

“Rest. I’m sure you’re tired.”

Now that she had come down from the high of being outside, Luna was more than ready to climb into bed and shut her eyes.

“Tomorrow, we’ll discuss things more so I can give you a better understanding of why you’re here. Should you need me, my room is one floor up, last door on your left. I—”

“Is everyone upstairs?” she asked quickly, not having considered that at some point, the guards had to sleep.

The idea of them walking around while—

“No one is going to hurt you here,” Kit said, interrupting her train of thought. “And if it makes you feel better, this door has a lock on it—feel free to utilize it.”

It was hard not to express how relieved that made her feel. Maybe now she could actually sleep without fear of someone coming in while she was unaware.

“Thank you again, Kit.”

He smiled when she said his name, one that reached his eyes and made her want to smile back.

The notion was baffling.

Before she made a fool of herself, she quickly grabbed the tray and walked back into her bedroom. By the time she finished setting it on the bed and coming back, Kit was already gone.