Page 85 of The Doll and The Domination

Damn. And who’s to say they didn’t add anything else to our meal? Maybe something that can’t be detected by scent?

Maxwell catches my eye with his slumped, casual posture. Fingers steepled together. A smug curve of his withered lips. He taps his brother on the shoulder, tossing a handful of shredded meat into his mouth like a heathen.

“Whether we did or did not is irrelevant. Either you eat dinner with us willingly, or we force feed you the way we do to some of our children in the breed.” His mouth is sloppy, and he is making smacking sounds as he talks.

Force feeding? No. The throbbing memory of Absinthe whooshes across my vision. The cold bathtub. The hard crack of her knuckles to my cheek. The tube that drained raw egg into my stomach.

No. Just, no.

“I’d like to see you fucking try,” Warrose growls, fists in tight balls by his silverware.

“Remember that little thing in your ear?” Kaspias barks out a laugh. “You’re all nothing but sheep now.”

He’s right. We’re sitting ducks. Refusing is futile. But maybe if I just slipped into the void, took the Mazonist Brothers to my own special prison, we could win the war before it even starts. We can protect our secrets.

Dessin’s dark, rigid eyes slam into me, locking me in his dooming stare. He knows exactly what I’m thinking somehow. The knowledge of it hardens his jaw, stops his chest from moving. He shakes his head twice. A look that says, Don’t you fucking dare try it right now.

“Not yet. You’ll need your energy for something far more dire than this.” The woman reappears like a sweet puff of smoke in my mind.

My shoulders slump forward. “But the truth is dangerous. They can use so many things against us in here.”

“You and Dessin are special, Skylenna. Your minds are capable of power that exceeds the makings of black rose of the well.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Let your instincts take over. Dessin has already crafted his plan.”

“We’ll eat,” Dessin states without breaking eye contact.

“We will?” Niles blurts out.

In a show of good faith, Dessin takes a bite of a seasoned animal leg. Despite the knowledge of it being laced with black rose of the well, my mouth waters as the steaming juice drips on his plate. We’ve been starved for so long. And even though we finally got to eat today, let’s be honest, it was sewage goop.

Maxwell stuffs another handful of shredded meat into his slobbery mouth, grinning with rotting teeth as we all follow suit.

I reach for the same type of roasted leg that Dessin bit into. My stomach twists with both salivating hunger and fear of what will happen when our bodies react to the truth spilling from our tightly locked lips. Is there anything I should hide from them? Anything of vital importance?

Let your instincts take over.

Releasing a quiet sigh, I bite into the succulent, hot meat, scraping my teeth across the bone. Fuckkkkk, it’s like a drug. The rosemary seasoning, savory juices, tender substance. The bliss. The endorphins. The blast of dopamine!

“Oh, ride my face. I want to hate it. I do. But I’m practically coming,” Niles groans loud enough to make the brothers laugh.

I roll my eyes, digging into the pile of weirdly colorful vegetables. They’re sweet like cream with a slight crunch. I melt into my seat, reminded of the time Aurick planned a final feast for me. Or what about the night Ruth and I raided his kitchen, ate sweets and drank wine, and gossiped in the bath!

“Skylenna, this reminds me of the time at Aurick’s house! Remember the wine and baths?” Ruth exclaims, taking a long swig of her wine. “That was so good! But the food wasn’t nearly as tasty as this!”

“I remember!” I laugh, mirroring her actions and sipping my wine as well.

Wow, like smooth grape juice. It’s silky as it runs down my throat.

“My mother used to give Judas and me cinnamon cookies and milk when we were little,” Marilynn explains with a full mouth. “That’s when she used to tell us the stories of the Fallen Saint!”

Fallen Saint? Me. The prophecy. Wait, aren’t we not supposed to know about it? But wouldn’t it be far more important that the leaders of Vexamen aren’t privy to that knowledge either? Fuck, it’s the truth plant!

“I was a vegetarian for years,” Warrose grumbles through big bites of his meat. “Can’t remember why now.”

My wide eyes jump to Dessin, who is eating in deafening silence. He makes no show of how good the food is. Doesn’t spill any secrets. Doesn’t even let his features show how much he’s enjoying the meal.

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