Catastrophic Attraction - Eve Langlais Page 0,2

on him.

“Put her down,” he said with deadly softness.

The kidnapper—a faceless, sexless thing—turned a masked gaze toward him. They clutched Charlotte tighter, obviously not intending to comply.

“You really don’t want to fuck with me.” Smart people usually listened when he threatened. Couldn’t the kidnapper sense the menace surrounding them? He couldn’t tell what they were thinking given their eyes remained hidden behind goggles.

It didn’t matter what kind of armor they wore. Or the kind of lulling ability they wielded. They left their mind wide open. He seized it.

Roark didn’t so much slide into the intruder’s mind as shove into their thoughts and seize control. She—yes, she—had no protection against him. He knew everything about her instantly. She was originally from the islands dotting the seas. She’d come through the Sapphire Port City looking for work, and to avoid a sizeable debt she left behind. The tavern by the wharf she chose to hang in was where she heard about the first offer; a lot of fluff—the slang for the drug made from Toxic Dust—in return for Roark’s death. A bounty on the upstart Marshland rat who called himself king. Enough to pay off those she owed.

Liandra, who remained frozen as he sorted through her memories, wasn’t the first one to think it would be easy to kill him. They all learned a harsh lesson.

More chilling than the prize on his head was the second bounty she’d learned of. The one demanding the capture of his daughter. The princess.

An even poorer decision than coming after Roark himself. No one threatened his daughter.

Roark glanced at Charlotte. His little girl, who’d just barely survived a bout of the Marsh sickness, who was the sum of his existence, the thing he loved most in this world, and that woman thought she could take her?

“Some people just never learn. You should have paid attention to the rumors about me,” Roark murmured as he snared his little Charlie from the kidnapper’s arms.

The would-be abductor didn’t stop him. She couldn’t. With only the slightest effort, Roark held tightly to Liandra’s mind and wasn’t about to let go until he got every single answer he wanted, and then some.

“Don’t move. We’re not done,” he warned. “We’re going to have a chat, you and I. Right after I tuck Charlie in.” He set his daughter gently in her bed, pulled the covers over her, and snuggled them around her body to keep her warm. He kissed her forehead.

She didn’t stir. Because she’d been drugged with Liandra’s sleeping power.

His daughter attacked in his castle. His fortress. His sweet baby girl almost kidnapped under his nose.

It was one thing to go after him. He was a big man. He could handle it. But a child?

My child.

The rage burned in him, and he wanted to hurt. He crooked a finger at Liandra, whose eyes held a note of panic. Good.

She whimpered as he forced her, stumbling, to follow him. Entering the hall, he sent a mental wakeup to the sleeping guards.

Do your fucking job!

The two minds in the bodies slumped on the floor snapped awake.

Guard the princess. There was an attack.

As one, their heads turned toward their king with Liandra, an obvious intruder dressed all in black. Even her face was masked. The eyes on the guards widened as they realized she’d been in the princess’s suite.

Roark didn’t say another word after that. He didn’t have to. The security detail tasked with his daughter’s protection was mortified. They’d fallen asleep, never mind if they were drugged. They’d failed and took it personally. No punishment could equal their shame nor the lengths to which they’d work hard to atone.

Down the stairs Roark strode, still barefoot but not really feeling the chill in the stone. This time of the year, the humidity had already begun, making everything a little bit warmer and damper.

As he headed deeper underground—because prisoners didn’t get the cushy rooms in the above-ground levels—it got wetter. Much wetter. Those who inspected the cracks peppering the old tunnels and rooms underneath the castle said they weren’t anything to worry about. Then again, they’d said that about the network under the marsh itself, which had collapsed a few months back. It might be time to do something a little more concrete about the problem, because, while Roark wasn’t particularly worried about drowning, not everyone had his gifts.

It took a few flights of stairs and more than a couple locked doors before he reached the chamber he liked to use for these kinds of