Page 36 of Dark Night of the Soul

The man was still handsome, but with an ugliness to him I hadn’t seen the first time we’d met. His wavy black hair was longer than I remembered—touching his collar—and his eyes were still piercing green.

I’d fought him in hand-to-hand combat for the release of Kincade. We’d beat the fuck out of each other. I would have won if he hadn’t cheated. Because he didn’t fight fair.

He still didn’t.

“It’s nice to see you again, Miss Walker,” he said, his tone even and cold.

I said nothing. Merely stood there staring at him with my heart in my throat. But I remained steady. My gaze never wavering. I refused to allow him to see fear.

“Have a seat.” He waved to the chair in front of the desk as he rounded it.

“I’ll stand.”

He lowered himself into the chair behind the desk, laced his fingers and looked at me as though we were about to have a casual chat.

I hated this man.

“I have to say, the white hair suits you.” He smirked.

The last time we saw each other it was before I burned myself out with the Ark. My hair was black then. But all that power pumping through my body had stripped it of its color.

“What do you want, Sebastian?” I asked, ignoring his compliment. If it was that.

He smiled faintly, making my skin crawl. “I want you. And here you are.”

I thought of the note I found in the desk.

Bring her to us—or we’ll come to you.

I drew in a steadying breath. I searched his face, but he had gotten good at controlling his emotions.

“Why?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.

He studied my face. “You don’t want to know about my wayward Watcher?”

I went still as dread clawed up my neck. The last thing I saw was Kincade’s face before I was taken. Had they captured him, too?

When I didn’t answer, he said, “No? Hm.”

As though he was surprised I didn’t want to know. A pause then. “What do you suppose he’ll do?”

I knew what he was asking and why.

My first thought—rip Sebastian’s face off. And I’d help.

“He’ll do what he does best,” I said, trying for evasive. Failing.

“Which is what I’m counting on.” He smiled a dangerous smile. “You see, if I can’t bring him to heel—if he won’t come back in line—then there’s no longer any incentive to keep him.”

“And what happens then?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

“He gives you up,” he said. “One way or another.”

“Or you kill him,” I said.

Again, that dangerous smile. “I have no tolerance for disobedience.”

Then he rose from the chair, came around the desk and stood far too close to me.