Master of Miasma (The Valhalla Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

again he looks perplexed, sighing heavily and standing too, hooking his hands in his back pockets when he turns to face me with the left eye much brighter than his right, “Emma, this wasn't the time or the place, but I.... I'm drawn to you, so... took a liberty. If you were anyone else I would have taken you straight to Kake, our clan leader. You would have chosen one of his hands instead of mine, in which case you'd have worn the clan mark of most initiates. But... I offered you my hand to see if you would take it, your intuition didn't lead you astray and I know this because you didn't challenge me, you accepted the offer. You didn't argue or stand your ground. If you were violently opposed to me you'd have fought for fair play and you didn't, giving me a clear indication that in your heart you accept me without question. It is the right course of action for you to wear my unique mark on your palm.”
    My limbs are wobbly jello and I need to sit, and the urge to pee comes back strong. Where the hell is the bathroom in this place?
    Daring to perch on the edge of the bed, my defenses still up, I challenge, “What does that mean exactly?”
    Swiveling in a sudden change of direction he heads back to his drink, picking it up and draining it, wiping his hand across his mouth when he replaces the emptied vessel to face me. “The men in our lineage share a gift. It's the gift of knowledge which you saw in Arghin's eye. I confess now, we all have an eye like that, and with it we see all of you. You can't hide a thought, a feeling, your past, your memories, it's open to us. What we read in you is broadcast in our left eye. When I look at you, when any of us do, you have no secrets. We are truth bearers. We keep it safe, we don't exploit what we learn...”
    I'm damn glad I'm sitting down or I'd be a puddle on the floor now. That's why that eye is lighter behind the contact lens.
    You knew what I was thinking this whole time? Gawd! This isn't happening. Fuck!
    “Do not be ashamed, it pleased me greatly to know you are as drawn to me as I am to you. I wouldn't have brought you here or offered you the seal of friendship otherwise.”
    “ And that's why you made me shake your hand? So you can lay some barbaric claim to me?”
    “ I didn't force you to do anything.”
    “ You forced me to come here!” My voice warbles hysterically and I know I'm mentally avalanching.
    “ The bathroom is through there,” he says, giving me space to escape, pointing at a hollow in the cave wall. Turning away from me he walks out the opposite dark cavity, “I'll get you something to eat while you have some much needed privacy.”
    And like that, he's gone, vanishing into the shadows with as much silence as a snowflake falling in predawn.
    Collapsing back into the pillows fright manifests in a loud shaken sob. I don't have the mental fortitude for this kind of shit. I need a hug, and a good sleep, and a big dose of insipid self-pity.
    Why can't my life be normal? If it wasn't for the sore scarring on my palm, turning pitch, I'd think this was just a mind trip, and tomorrow I'll wake up in my boring little life with nothing more than a hangover.
    Intervention rings insistently with the call to urinate and I dizzily push up, getting off the bed and shuffling to the hole in the wall.
    I'm afraid, confused, and in desperate need of reprieve.
    Entering the bathroom I'm surprised at the modern facilities and inspired by the materials. Hewn rock constitutes the walls, the tub is carved out of a huge slab of rose quartz, the shower manufactured by a conglomeration of translucent stone blocks, the floor a mosaic of sea shells shining mother of pearl in every direction, and the lighting comes from wall sconces seating fat beeswax candles which scent the air with a sweet subtle perfume.
    The toilet is porcelain with a striated stone lid and seat, and I head straight to it needing to do my business before he returns because there is no door.
    Sitting down I