Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [22]
Most people aren’t able to maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds without feeling uncomfortable. Even fewer can do it without speaking. This man managed to do both with seemingly no problems. Brid had always secretly believed that people looked away because they took the “eyes as windows to the soul” thing too seriously; she wondered if the man across from her had much of a soul to worry about.
Her nostrils flared slightly as she scented the air around him. It was faint and hiding under the smell of all the old blood in the room, but she could just make it out. He’d cleaned up, but the hint of fresh copper and salt spoke to her senses. He’d most likely killed, and recently.
Apparently, the man had finished his evaluation of her. “Are you comfortable, Ms. Blackthorn?”
“I’m naked and in an iron cage.”
“Yes, my apologies about that,” he said. “I understood werewolves to be an unself-conscious bunch.”
Brid gave him her yearbook smile. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about whether or not you can see my nipples, but you do have me on a cold iron floor, which is uncomfortable, to say the least.”
“Again, my apologies, but I can’t just let you have free run of the place. That would be”—he paused and pursed his lips—“problematic.”
“Nice euphemism.”
“I try. Bridin—may I call you Bridin?”
“Could I stop you?”
He tutted at her like an old schoolmistress. “Let’s try to maintain a little civility, shall we?”
She shrugged her shoulder.
“Do you know who I am?”
“I could take a few guesses,” she said. In fact, the list of who the man could be was pretty short. The power, the blood, the cage. Very few could do these things. She’d never seen Douglas Montgomery because her father hadn’t taken her to Council meetings yet, but she was willing to bet serious money that the man in front of her was the head of the Northwest Council. The fact that he held that position told Brid quite a lot. Other Councils, if they even had a necromancer, weren’t led by them.
“Then why don’t you take one?” he asked, amusement filling his voice.
“If you insist,” she said. “Mr. Montgomery.”
“Excellent. Now that we’re acquainted, let’s get down to business, as they say.”
“Is this where you tell me your evil plan? I just want to know if I need to get comfortable.” If her comment angered him, Brid could see no sign of it.
“Sorry to disappoint,” he said. “Here is what I will share: If all goes well, you’ll be free in a few days. Meals and such are contingent on good behavior.” He smiled, completely without warmth. “Essentially, Ms. Blackthorn, if you’re a good girl, then you needn’t have any worries.” He stood up to leave, clearly feeling their discussion was finished.
Brid didn’t agree. “Well, then, I’m afraid we have a problem, Mr. Montgomery.”
He pulled on his suit jacket and checked his cuffs.
“I am a lot of things, but a good girl isn’t one of them. Neither is stupid. You don’t plan to set me free.” She’d been raised to lead and had learned that some prisoners could be released and some couldn’t. Brid knew she fell into the couldn’t pile. The thought chilled her. She’d either escape or, failing that, hope that her pack found her in time.
He straightened his jacket.
“I’m dangerous to keep, yes, but I’m worse to let go.” Douglas laughed, a hollow booming sound that made Brid’s spine want to straighten. “Why, because your pack will track me down and kill me for what I’ve done to you? I thought more of you, Bridin. Your father doesn’t have the clout to challenge me.”
He moved slightly when he said that. The thought of her father seemed to make him a little uncomfortable. Good. Bridin leaned her head to the side and flicked her bangs out of her face. “Oh, I wasn’t talking about politics. No, I’ll kill you myself for the whole kidnapping