His breath was warm. Awareness of him flooded my body. I saw only him, heard only him, felt only him. Desire pooled in my belly, hot and insistent.

“Tell me what he said.”

His lips brushed over my cheekbone to my temple. He released my hand and drew his fingers lightly up my arm. His thumb brushed the side of my breast. I shuddered.

“Why would you lie for him?” he murmured, his lips moving slowly down to my jaw line. “He sent you to an isolate. He searched for Limu, intending to buy his freedom with your life.”

He kissed my cheek, ever so lightly, then moved toward my mouth. My legs would barely hold me up.

“He sent you to a land of monsters. Did he try to save you? No, not once during all those days.”

His breath was sweet. When he spoke, his lips moved against mine.

“And yet you lie for him?”

I stood there, eyes squeezed shut. If I spoke, if I moved, if I looked at him, it was all over. Second after second, we stood there, me shaking, my breath coming in gasps, him utterly composed.

Finally, he stepped back.

“Very well, Miss Ryder.”

I reached out and grabbed the back of the chair I’d been sitting in, almost upsetting it.

He moved away, unconcerned.

Warily, I watched him retreat behind his desk and begin to sort some papers.

“It may interest you to hear that Mr. Ryzik went through the carven strait. Two different trackers confirmed his use of it this morning. I had thought the strait wholly out of reach. It seems that little is impossible when it comes to that one.”

He tapped a sheaf of paper on his desk, then slid it into a folder.

“He is trapped in an isolate, and I shall very much enjoy hunting him down. You may go.”

I made my way to the door, feeling like I was about to fall down. As I turned the knob, his voice stopped me.

“Miss Ryder.”

Filled with dread, I turned.

He looked up, meeting my eyes.

“I hope you will remember what did not happen today.”

Mouth too dry to speak, I nodded.

He looked down.

I opened the door — too fast — and left. I made it around the corner before my legs went all bendy, and I had to stop and lean against the wall.

Oh shit. I’m so screwed.

He hadn’t bothered to use his mind-control thing on me. He hadn’t needed to.

I felt dirty. Not because of anything he’d done. Because of what I’d done. What I’d wanted to do, anyway.

How am I going to live in this place? How can I stay here and still be me?

I looked around, desperate for some kind of anchor. The hallway was all pale, immaculate carpet, smooth walls, porcelain sconces — perfectly tasteful, yet empty. Cold.