Page 138 of Treasured

Eventually, I pulled myself away from the mirror. Leaving the too-beautiful reflection behind, I pulled on the comfortable tunic and leggings before running my hairbrush under the water. I brushed and plaited my damp hair, leaving it in two tight braids that ran close to my skull.

I just finished tying the second one when shadows swirled at the base of the bed. Moments later, Sebastian appeared bearing two large steaming mugs.

He handed one to me, and I sniffed it appreciatively. Gods, coffee was one of Eleyta’s gifts to the world.

The drink smelled good but tasted even better. The first bitter sip slid down my throat, warming me from the inside out. The fact that vampires could still enjoy coffee when food tasted like ash was definitely a blessing from the goddess of the moon.

A low moan may or may not have left my lips as I drank the dark brown goodness. This was, without a doubt, the best cup of coffee I had enjoyed since being Made.

Sebastian chuckled, sipping his own drink with care. “If I’d known you’d be so delighted by the coffee, darling, I would have made sure it was here the moment you woke up. Perhaps then, getting you out of bed might not have been such an issue.”

I enjoyed the drink so much I didn’t even take offense to his words.

“Perhaps not.” I finished the coffee, delighting in how it slid down my throat and gave me instant energy.

Once it was empty, though, there was nothing else I could say or do to distract Sebastian from his goal of training. Even my well-placed kisses and suggestions of other, more fun activities that required far less clothing didn’t sway him, which was a real shame.

For a vampire who was so in enamoured with his wife, he was incredibly stubborn. It took one to know one, I supposed.

Sebastian got his way. I slipped my hand into his, and he shadowed us to the training room. My muscles preemptively ached, reminding me that my place was in a library, not a battlefield.

I would have complained, but the moment our feet landed on the floor, Sebastian lobbed a shadow at me.

And so, it began again.

* * *

Rivulets of sweat ran down my brows, my neck, and my back. My clothes stuck to me, and my lungs tightened uncomfortably. I was one big ball of agony.

Two hours of torture had passed, and one thing was clear: Sebastian found joy in this. The Binding Mark pulsed with something akin to amusement, which only made me scowl.

This wasn’t fun, but at least I was improving.

On the other side of the room, Sebastian ran a hand over his forehead, preparing to attack me again.

“Ready?” he asked.

I didn’t bother answering. I was already reaching for the Tether, preparing to pull as much power as possible. The red rope binding us was within my reach when suddenly, the doorknob twisted.

Immediately, Sebastian turned. Casting me a look over his shoulder that clearly said, stay here, he fanned out his wings as the door opened.

I didn’t know why Sebastian thought I would listen to him now. I didn’t in the cabin, and I wasn’t inclined to do so tonight. I moved behind him, peeking out from behind his expansive wings.

Phyrra stood in the hall. She slipped Sebastian a note before her gaze ran over me. She smirked at my appearance. “Are you trying to kill your wife, Bastian? She looks terrible.”

I couldn’t even take offense at her words. I was certain she was correct. Sebastian had not been easy on me.

“We’re training,” Sebastian said. He glowered at me over his shoulder. Can’t you ever listen to orders, Luna?

I shrugged. When it suits me.

Really, though, it was just Phyrra. I was certain if the person on the other side of the door had posed a real threat, Sebastian would have been much more upset with me.

Sebastian pocketed the note. “Come in, Phyrra,” he said. “Your arrival is fortuitous. We’re practicing, and we could use your help.”

A glint entered the spymaster’s eyes, and she shed her cloak, leaving it by the door. “Oh?”

By the time Sebastian had finished explaining what he wanted to do, a knot formed in my stomach. It only intensified when I caught sight of the twin silver daggers strapped to the spy’s thighs.