But to my surprise, he didn’t flinch or pull away. Either I didn’t smell as bad as I feared, or he really was a gentleman. His kiss was soft and oddly soothing. His lips lingered for only a moment too long, but he made sure to pull away before I did.
“You will be out of your cell by tomorrow, then. You have my word, Atlanta.” He turned my hand over in his and clasped his fingers around mine, giving them a firm squeeze. “And a specter’s word is his bond.”
That light in his eyes, still shimmering even in the darkness, made me wonder if he meant that, though—or if he’d lied when he said that he didn’t joke.
Once Apex was gone, I hauled the anchor of my chain back up off the floor and put it back into the wall where it belonged. Under close inspection, it’d be obvious that I’d pulled it free, but if my guards returned before Apex did, it wouldn’t look too suspicious. I hoped.
I bent down to the water spigot after, doing my best to wash the dirt from my body. When I gave myself a sniff, I was relieved.
Okay. So, I was dirty, but maybe I really didn’t smell that bad. Once Apex got me out of this place, I’d have to bargain with him for that bath I’d been dreaming about—and ask him what a specter was. Sure, he seemed to be able to blend in with the shadows and move undetected wherever he went, but his hand had been firm, and his lips had been surprisingly warm. Hot, even. I could still feel the place where he’d kissed my knuckles. Even in memory, that kiss almost burned.
At least I could rest assured that he wasn’t a ghost.
But whatever he was—or wasn’t—now he was my only hope.
2
Apex
She was exquisite. A vision. Everything that was good in the galaxies, just short of perfection—that single imperfection being that she was not mine.
Not yet.
Specters did not sweat, nor did we lose control of our emotions or ourselves. The only fear we ever felt was that of our enemies, generally in the moments before we slipped a blade between their ribs. At age sixteen, my specter training had concluded. Years before most Lunarian males would reach adulthood, I drank deeply from Lady Idria’s vile poison and lost what little of myself the labyrinth beneath her palace had not already killed.
Most Lunarians had eyes that changed colors based on their mood. The poison that made me who I was today had taken that color from my own eyes, leaving only blackness in their place. Most Lunarians were passionate, fiery, fierce and headstrong; my training had left me cold, calculating, all but emotionless.
Once upon a time, I had believed that those things made me superior to the average Lunarian male. They charged into battle without thought or hesitation, blasters blazing, and swords held high. Often, they lost their lives for their efforts. Meanwhile, I could step back from a battle and track all the moving parts like they were nothing more than numbers of an equation only I could solve. Then, when I saw my opening, I could strike hard and fast and without remorse, dealing the most damaging blows to the most integral moving parts. I would emerge with not so much as a scratch on me, even as warriors of greater riches and nobler births than my own bled out at my feet.
But then she came into life. Atlanta Tremaine of Earth. My obsession. My curse.
Now, I wondered if I had ever been so different from the others after all.
I tore at the buttons of my shirt as I returned to my room. Our little exchange in Lieja’s dungeons had gotten my blood up. The feel of her skin beneath my lips had left me ravenous. It was a feeling I was ill-accustomed to.
Specters did not sweat, but after being in her presence for such a short time, my chest felt aflame. My heart thrashed against my rib cage. Pinpricks of heat ravaged my entire body, so relentless that not even an icy shower could banish them completely.
What had she done to me?
I toweled off with a snarl on my lips and lay in bed, eyes closed, breathing deep. I had seen beautiful females before, females of every species, every color and shape. It would have been so easy to reduce these feelings to a simple enjoyment of Atlanta’s form, but no. It was more than that.
This was something I had never felt before.
My cock was stiff with want of her, true. Her natural scent had stirred something primal in me that was difficult to ignore. But when I reached for myself, wrapping my fingers around the thickness of my shaft and conjuring an image of her in my mind—
I froze, groaned and released my grip.
I wanted her. I wanted to hold her, to sink my teeth into her delicate, slender neck, to take her and mate with her in the way only those who owned each other could.
But it would not satiate me. No imaginings of her sweet mouth around my cock would bring me true release.
My jaw was tight and my shoulders were tense as I rolled over in bed and closed my eyes. In the morning, I would barter for Atlanta’s freedom.
Tonight, I would not sully my need for her with erotic fantasizing.
If I was fortunate, she would be in my dreams instead.
I attended Queen Lieja’s breakfast feast the next morning with an ache between my legs that was difficult to ignore. I ignored it anyway as I sat down at my place by her side.
There were more important matters than that of my heavy balls and stiff cock to deal with today.
“How lovely of you to join us, Apex.” Lieja waved a servant forward to pour me a goblet of fresh gilly-fruit juice, a rare delicacy here on Nightmoor. Most things at Lieja’s table were. “You slept well, I hope.”
“Well enough,” I
