As he let her take another step away from him, she thought there was a good chance she was going to be able to depart.
“There was something else,” he said. “Wasn’t there.”
“No.”
“Then why didn’t he dematerialize?”
She frowned, having not considered that. “You’ll have to ask him.”
“Not his way.” The soldier’s eyes went down her body. “And I think I can guess. Be of care, Chosen. He is not who you think he is. He is capable of betrayals that a female like you couldn’t begin to contemplate.”
“If you will excuse me, I shall be taking my leave the now.” She curtsied and then struggled to focus, focus, focus …
“Be of care.”
Those words haunted her as she disappeared from the meadow … and found her way back to the mansion’s front entrance.
As she contemplated the heavy door, a shudder went through her. That fighter struck her as more terrifying than Xcor himself: the latter would never hurt her. She didn’t know how she was so sure of that, but it was like the beat of her heart—something she could feel in the center of her chest.
That other male? Not the case. At all.
Closing her eyes, she hated this in between with Xcor. How was she going to pass the hours before tomorrow at midnight? And why was he making her wait?
She already knew what his answer was going to be.
SIXTY
Selena put her full robing back on. Everything, undergarments and all. In spite of the fact that her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely marshal them.
When she finally walked out into the bedroom, she found Trez sitting on a straight-backed chair in front of the desk that she sometimes used to compose diary entries. And indeed, she was glad she had closed her leather-bound volume after she’d finished with last tonight’s passage.
It was all about him, naturally.
And she had a feeling there was going to be an addendum.
He looked over at her, his dark eyes flashing for a moment. “You ready to do this now?”
Dearest Virgin Scribe, of all the things she thought he’d tell her … that was not it.
“How can you … sell them?” she said roughly.
He sighed. “They want the money. I make it happen. I make it safe.”
“And they … you get paid for this as well.”
“Yeah.”
She had to sit down before she fell over—and went toward the bed before thinking, No, not there. Instead, she chose the loveseat that was in front of the fireplace. Settling in, she tucked her feet underneath her bottom and made sure the skirting covered all of her skin.
“How long?” she heard herself ask.
“Years. Decades. First I was a supervisor. Now I’m the boss.”
“I can’t imagine … that.”
He rubbed his temples. “I know you can’t.”
Abruptly, Selena found herself struggling to stay still. Her internal compass was spinning around so fast, she could barely form a sentence. “You know what? Just tell me everything. At the moment, my head is making up all kinds of horrible things and I—”
“The worst part is that I’ve been with a couple thousand women. Easy.”
At first, she thought, No, she couldn’t have heard that right. But the wave of cold that went through her suggested that actually, she had gotten it correct.
“Thousand,” she said weakly.
“That’s a conservative estimate. Could be close to ten. Thousand, that is. Shit, maybe even more.”
Selena blinked. Okay, when he’d maintained previously that it was “many” human women? She’d thought a couple dozen, tops. But the numbers he was talking about? Even by ehros standards, they were … unfathomable.
As she tried to imagine all the different scenarios he could have … “Were any of them women you…”
“Yeah. For a long time, I wouldn’t sell a prostitute until I’d had her.”
With a wave of nausea shooting through her gut, all Selena could do was stare at him.
“You are correct,” she heard herself say. “I do not know you.”
“God, Selena, I’m so fucking sorry—I should never have been with you. Not because I didn’t want you, but because I … well, yeah, because I knew that this was the reaction I’d get if I told you the truth. And actually, last night, I came here to try to explain, but then I just…”
She put her face in her hands, images of him kissing her, caressing her, taking her, hitting her like blows. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“I don’t blame you,” he said bleakly.
And yet there was no reason to recast reality as a way to reclaim virtue she had lost willingly. “I seduced you.” She dropped her hands. “I asked for what I got.”