Lover Unveiled by J.R. Ward

Author:J.R. Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2021-04-20T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Within the confined space of his coffin, Sahvage gathered his wits, marshaled his strength. There was the temptation to thrash and batter, yet he could sense naught of where he was. He smelled no dirt, and he took that to mean he had not been buried. Beyond that? He was sure of nothing.

No sounds gave him cues. No particular smells, either.

Other than the fresh cut of the wood planks that surrounded him.

There was no calming himself to dematerialize. No sufficient measure of self-control to be mustered as his heart thundered for all that had to be occurring for Rahvyn. Thus he fashioned his palms upon the lid’s underside, and with ever-increasing force, pushed, pushed, pushed—

The nails sang and squeaked, but yielded before the pressure, the lid lifting a crack, air entering, even as no light did. One deep breath suggested a location that made little sense, though as he could have been under six feet of earth, he would take the scents of flour and oats o’er raw dirt. And just as the lid popped free of its many moorings, he grabbed its edge so as to not make a clatter—

With a hiss, he bit his tongue to quell calling out as his hand was scored by the teeth of the nails. The smell of fresh blood sprang into his nose as his flesh wept, and he prayed that this food-storage area was free of drafts that would carry his scent unto the noses of others.

As he lifted his torso from its recline, he was of care with the lid, setting it aside silently—

Something fell from his chest. Beads? It sounded like marbles.

Feeling about, he encountered a wad that was damp and disturbing. His blood? Someone else’s?

He couldnae worry about that right the now.

Across whatever space he was in, there was a door… he could see the glowing outline created by its loose fit, and though the illumination did not carry far, it was a sufficient grounding whilst he stood up slowly.

Now Sahvage breathed more deeply, more evenly, and his sense of smell confirmed certain gastronomic basics: Again, the flour. Spices of some kind. Further grains.

A dry storage room. And there was such evident abundance that it could only be within Zxysis’s castle.

An unlikely venue for any coffin, but that gentlemale would need Sahvage’s to be kept hidden. As a member of the Black Dagger Brotherhood, his remains would be considered sacred by his brothers, something to be reclaimed and promptly ahvenged. But herein, secreted amongst stores for the use of the aristocrat’s servants, of whom all were dependent upon the lord for his beneficence? The doggen would say not a thing and would ask no questions. Nor would anyone searching for aught of a coffin description think to look here.

As he went to step out of the casket, he discovered two further details: He had nothing on his feet, and a loose robing upon his body. A quick inspection of his form yielded no remarkable points of pain, the arrows having been removed at some point, whate’er damage done by them already healed.

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