Page 106 of The Master and the Marionette

And then a boyish scream, something between a malfunctioning machine and a boiling teakettle. I hear sounds of peeling, ripping, or maybe unzipping. And then the screams are muffled and choking. Gagging, sputtering, gasping. Then, nothing. Silence.

Silence.

I keep my face cradled in my hands, rocking back and forth. I feel broken and underwhelming to a man like Dessin. If this is real, he did all of this for a sad, weak young woman who can’t even defend herself from a captor. I couldn’t even stand up for myself as Absinthe struck me in the bathtub. And then there’s that part that secretly hopes this isn’t real. That prays this is all a trick. If it is all in my head, then he can’t really see how ugly I really am. He’s strong, and handsome, and full of fire.

Without success, I try to minimize the compulsive shaking of my muscles. But I’m cold. I’ve gone so long without the warmth of a simple blanket. Or a decent meal.

Click. Chink.

Something touches my cage door. If this is real, I’m guessing his revenge was short lived, and he’s ready to assess the damage. Strands of my hair are hanging down in my face. I lower my hands and peek out to see him. Or to see Albatross, waiting to tell me I imagined it all.

But it’s not Albatross. It’s him. It’s Dessin kneeling down in front of me, gripping the cage door like he might kick that off of its hinges too. He opens it up, his stunning face unmasked by the bars. And all in one swoop, it’s not Dessin anymore. It’s Kane. My Kane. His lips part and he raises his chin, he blinks several times, like it’s his body’s way of trying to process the shock. His dark eyebrows lift upward in an empathetic expression, then turn to remorse, agony, and anguish.

He reaches out to me. That large abrasive hand moves slowly through the air, timid, adjusting to the memories Dessin is offering him. When it finally hovers over my cheek, I lean into it, closing my eyes.

If this is a trick… it’s worth the beating.

39. Mind Phantoms

For at least a whole minute, Kane holds my wounded face in his palm, blood dripping from my skin to his. When I open my eyes once more, I see that his are filled with tears. Thick, glossy tears. He says nothing, only watches me, breathing through parted lips. Stunned and unable to shift his weight.

“Is this—real?” I ask. The question rubs against my throat like it has teeth.

Kane sighs like he’s been holding his breath, dipping his head under the cage to crawl in like a bear in a buggy. But he manages. His shoulders graze the bars as he shifts on his knees. And suddenly, with those four inches he’s crossed, I don’t feel alone anymore.

His red, misty eyes trail over my face, absorbing my injuries, assessing my trauma. He takes my hands in his, fingertips caressing my knuckles, and in one gentle motion, he pulls my hands up to the sides of his face, placing them on his cheeks, his stubbled jawline. He’s covered in splattered blood and sweat, but nothing could ever repel me from wanting to be close to him. These are the war markings of my rescue, and I’m eternally grateful.

“Real.”

He reacts to my cold touch with a small flinch, yet closes his eyes at the feel of my skin. I almost forgot how warm he is, how his touch is like a blanket to keep out the frost.

“Skylenna.” His deep voice breaks, weakens, suffocates. “I’m so sorry.” He’s angry, hurt, and full of remorse. A guilt that may never leave him. But all I can feel is the clenching muscle in his jaw, the permeating heat from his fury. I’ve waited so long to touch you again.

“I’m sorry it took me so long…” He leans forward, kissing the top of my hand.

“But why? What were you doing for four months?” Maybe it was three. Or more.

He straightens up, as much as he can without hitting his head at the top of the cage. His eyes grow large and wet, like I’ve spoken another language. “Four months?”

I nod slowly. “Yes. But it’s felt like a lot longer,” I say with a dry mouth. “I was convinced you were dead… or that their experiment worked and you discovered you weren’t superior. You weren’t capable of everything Dessin can do.” I don’t want to tell him what I’ve been through. It’s unmentionable. It’s humiliating. I know he’ll want to know, and he’ll press me to tell. But I’ve been a prisoner for this long, my mind is still trapped here, with long periods of darkness, eating like a dog, and being beaten without reasonable cause. I’ve fallen apart and he wasn’t here to pick up the pieces.

His head lowers, a flash of agitation and disbelief. “You thought you were in here for four months?” He weaves his hands into my dirty hair. “Skylenna, it took me four hours and thirteen minutes to save you. And I’m ashamed it took us that long.”

What? Hours? NO. NO!

I think I’d know if I were in the belly of Satan for only a matter of hours. That’s not possible, unless… “Have I lost my mind?”

I have, haven’t I?

“God, no. Albatross and Absinthe were injecting you with Mind Phantoms. It’s a chemical. The more concentrated it is, the more susceptible you are to believing the delusions you are given. They must have known I’d come for you quickly and that they would only have a short time with you. They needed to have a lasting effect.” He presses his forehead to mine. “It kills me to think you thought I wasn’t coming for you. It would have been a couple of hours faster if Dessin didn’t have to disable all of their security traps.”

I shake my head in shock. “It was all so real… I thought about you every day. It was the only thing that helped me endure the suffering.” I breathe in his alluring cedar scent. I want him to hold me, to press my face into his neck. “I’m so scared I’m going to blink and this will all have been inside my head.”

With very little room, Kane leans forward to fold me in his arms, tucking me away into the safety of his warmth and embrace. A thick emotion clogs my throat, burns my eyes, and causes my chin to tremble.

And like many times before, he’s the key to unlock my pain, unveil my truth.

“You can let go, honey. I’ve got you.”

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