Playing God by Lana Pecherczyk

Author:Lana Pecherczyk [Pecherczyk, Lana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Prism Press
Published: 2018-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“I’M NOT LETTING you go back to him. So get that out of your head in case you were thinking of going to spy. He can go fuck himself.” Cash’s arm around my waist tightened as we walked through the Ludus maze to his apartment.

I was dizzy, cold and lethargic, but getting better. My fingers weren’t numb but my teeth still chattered. Before I’d left, they lent me some Corvus House merchandise to dress in, including a hoodie and some sweatpants. Despite the internal fleece of the clothing, the cold wouldn’t leave my bones.

“I’m done with this nonsense,” Cash continued. “You belong with me where you’ll be safe. That’s what happens with all mentors and their progenies.”

I wasn’t so sure. After Cygnus, I had the sneaking suspicion that my being near him wasn’t safe for him. Not to mention I was fast becoming an assassination magnet. His abilities were failing him. Even Lena felt hopeless about his prognosis. Yes, he was a skilled warrior, and often instinctively brutal. My crushed neck was a testament to that. But what if the next time he woke him from a nightmare, he couldn’t protect himself? What if I was the nightmare—the one person who knew his weaknesses?

We arrived at his apartment and while he found his keys to open the door, I stepped back.

“Cash. I’m too dangerous for you to be around. I should go.”

“Talk like that again and I’m going to tie you down and lock you away.”

I gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

He opened the door and let it swing open. Then he hauled me over his shoulder in a fireman hold and walked into the rooms, kicking the door closed behind him.

My legs kicked in the air, my arms hung down his back and I smacked him repeatedly. Each strike glanced off uselessly. He tightened his hold around my waist.

“Don’t test me, Roo,” he growled. “I’m the dangerous one.”

His immovable mountain of a body didn’t budge, except for his heaving chest with every fast breath. He waited with me dangling.

Eventually, I stopped fighting. “Fine. I’ll stay. But it’s your funeral.”

He dumped me on a couch, and when I scrambled to a sitting position, I met his eyes. So many emotions battled in them. He wanted to hit me, scream at me, hug me, love me. Everything was clear one minute, the next, he clammed up and shut his expression down.

“You’re cold,” he said. “I’ll put the shower on. Stay there. Don’t move.”

He left me sitting on his couch, hugging myself, and stared at the wilting pot plant on the coffee table. I knew how it felt. I stroked the drooping leaves idly. It didn’t deserve to be neglected and wilted, kept in this underground concrete hideaway. A little buzz of life pulsed out of it, and my heart ached a little for its pain. I made a mental note to take it to the surface later for some natural light. I surveyed the rest of the room. It was decked out in cream, like the Urser apartment, only less opulent.

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