“Didn’t like that, did you?” He had a hold of my leg as he moved down to the end of the slab. “I can do much, much worse.”
“You…you hit like an…underdeveloped five-year-old,” I said, blinking to clear the starbursts from my vision.
Cool metal snapped around my right ankle and then my left, and the only good takeaway was that I wasn’t spread eagle. But when I dipped my chin and peered down, I could see that the hem of my dress was riding up. Not like it had far to go to begin with.
Aric stalked back toward me. “I didn’t know you had such a mouth on you.”
“Surprise.”
He gave me another tight smile as he placed his hand over mine. “I’m going to have to teach you how to be mindful of what you say to me.”
My heart tripped over itself as he trailed his hand down my arm. “Good luck.”
“I won’t need it.” His hand left my arm, and he gripped my cheeks. “You will, but you will find none of it.”
I forced myself to meet his pale eyes. “I’m not scared of you.”
His smile increased as did the pressure on my face. “That is a lie. Do you know how I know that?”
He was right. God, he was. I was terrified of the Ancient, but I’d be damned if I gave him the satisfaction of admitting it. “You’re a super special, know-it-all fae?”
“Cute.” His chuckle dripped ice down my spine as he guided my head up. “I can smell it in your sweat. It reminds me of kerosene.”
“Sorry I…”—I swallowed back a groan as the pressure on the joints of my jaw increased—“I don’t smell better for you.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Using his grip on my face, he pulled me upright as he held the chain in his other fist, shortening the length until the cuff pressed into the front of my throat. My back bowed painfully, and my arms stretched. “I love the smell of fear. It gets me hard.”
My heart stuttered and then sped up. A whole new horror swamped me. There were a lot of things I could deal with. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. Pain. Humiliation. Fear. None of those were new. But this possibility? I didn’t know how to deal with that.
“You’re sick,” I gasped out.
Aric aligned his face with mine, causing my hands to open and close. When he spoke, his icy breath coasted over my nose. “Not sick enough to fuck you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
A rush of relief pounded through me so fast and hard, I almost lost it. A burn in my throat crawled upward—
“Don’t be too relieved to hear that. It offends me, and”—he tilted his head, his gaze traveling over the length of my body, lingering in areas that caused my skin to crawl—“well, I can always be swayed.”
Revulsion threatened to choke me as he lifted his gaze to mine. I glared back at him, my hands trembling as they curled into fists. Once again, I found myself wishing I was wearing anything but the sleeveless sheath dress. Then again, I had a feeling if I were wearing a parka or a head-to-toe shapeless jumpsuit, I’d still feel stripped bare.
One side of Aric’s lips kicked up. “But right now, there is something else I want from you.”
“I’m not going to tell you a damn thing about the Order.”
“Silly girl.” He jerked the chain, snapping my head back. “There is nothing about the Order that I don’t already know. They are no threat to me.”
Whether that was true or not, I had no idea, but I couldn’t really focus on that. Not when the strain of the chain was sending jagged shards of pain down my neck. “Then I’m of no use to you.”
“Not true.” He leaned away from me, reaching behind him. “You have so many uses to me, you have no idea.”
Aric pulled something out of his back pocket. In the golden light of the torches, my heart stopped in my chest when I saw what he held. A long, slender blade that came to a wickedly sharp point.
My gaze flew to his, and my breath caught as his hand and the blade it held moved out of my line of sight. “What are you doing?”
He continued to smile at me. “Pulling out your feathers.”
There was a good chance my heart stopped.
“Scream as loud as you like,” he offered, and I felt the tip of the blade press into my skin. I bit down as the slight pressure turned to pain. “Because no one is coming for you.”
Chapter 9
My body was on fire, and for once, I wished for that bone-chilling coldness that had greeted me when I first came to in the chamber.
And when was that?
Had to be…days ago. Definitely days. Maybe five if I based it on when Aric arrived. Twice a day, I believed. Possibly the morning and the night, and each time he stayed…long enough to do what he needed, which was to take me outside to do my business like a dog on a leash, and then do what he wanted, which was to turn me into a living, breathing pincushion.
And to feed.
He generally fed on the second visit, and I was always left unconscious when he left, waking the same way I had the first time, my head throbbing and feeling disoriented. And each time, it seemed to take seconds longer for me to remember how I had gotten here.
Why I was here.
My painfully empty stomach grumbled as I stared at the withered vines by the door. It had to be at least three days since Aric had tossed a bag of cold McDonalds at me. I’d scarfed that grease-soaked crap down and then promptly vomited it all back up. Now, I’d probably murder someone for a stale and cold cheeseburger.
Working on a dry swallow, I tipped my head back. Water would be nice, too. I was given enough to survive, but nowhere near enough to quench my thirst.
A full-body dip in lidocaine would be great also.
I sighed, not daring to move too much. The heavy chain pooled on the floor beside where I was propped up against the base of the stone slab. My wrists and ankles were always unlocked after the feeding, allowing me to roam as far as the chain would allow.
Which wasn’t all that far.
The only thing I knew was that Aric had no plans to kill me. At least not yet, and despite how…horrific all of this was, alive was better than dead.
I kept telling myself that. Repeatedly.
I probably shouldn’t be sitting on the floor, considering my body was one giant, open wound, and God only knew what kind of dirt and water was getting into the hundreds, if not thousands of tiny slices that covered nearly every inch of my body. I was probably going to contract some kind of flesh-eating bacteria.
Dragging my gaze from the vines, I looked down at my legs and winced. Purplish bruises mottled the pale skin, left behind when Aric had bored of me fighting back and secured my legs and arms. They were all pretty gnarly, but they were by no means the worst. The cuts were worse.
Dozens and dozens of them on each leg, on the front and the back, all methodically two inches long and carved into neat lines just a touch beyond shallow. My arms were the same. So were my chest and a good part of my back, which was why I was on the floor and not lying on the slab.
The back…those were fresh.
Another grumble echoed through my stomach. I’d thought I’d known what hunger pains felt like. I, of course, had been foolishly naive to think that skipping a meal could cause these gnawing, strong contractions that nearly doubled me over.