Page 18 of Taken By Touch and Torment

“The care center?” Snow squeaked, panicked.

The smell of smoke filled the air. Distant screams floated through the streets. I called to my shadows, gathering power.

Shit.

My fangs ached, and I realized I was fucking starving.

8

SCARLETT

Islipped in and out of lucidity as I ran. Fear was a bitter taste on my tongue, and periodic shots of adrenaline were the only thing keeping me conscious. My vision was blurry, and my limbs barely worked anymore. My legs were heavy, my arms too clunky. I couldn’t fight him off, couldn’t stop him.

Rune.

He was chasing me, toying with me. Not in the way he used to. This wasn’t a game.

Rune hated me. He wanted me to suffer. He wanted to crush me absolutely. I kicked at him, but he grabbed my ankle easily, pulling me toward him before he ripped into my flesh with his razor-sharp fangs.

He was going to kill me. I felt death’s cold grip reaching, Lillian’s fingertips brushing against my spine, her voice calling me back home.

Just like before, Rune didn’t speak. He tormented me in a dead silence. Though he appeared as the man I loved on the surface, he didn’t feel like him. Not anymore. It was as though his hatred had killed all of his humanity, drained him of everything I’d fallen in love with.

I blinked, and suddenly my hand was in Rune’s, his other gripping a knife. As soon as I realized what was happening, I screamed bloody murder.

He brought the knife to my fingers. He was on top of me, pinning my other arm down.

“Please don’t,” I wailed. “Please.”

The knife met my fingers. I blacked out again.

Where was I? The room spun. In and out I went. All I saw was Rune’s frigid glare and his sadistic grin as he refused all of my pleas for mercy, all of my attempts to stop him from hurting me, to talk to me.

Say something. Please, just say something.

My hands left bloody marks on the beautiful walls. The ceiling became the floor; the floor became the ceiling. I ran even when I could no longer use my eyes. Had Rune removed them from my skull?

At some point, I must have collapsed for good. Because everything was deafeningly dark. In the cruelest twist of fate, the darkness erupted into a field of stars. I thought of the room of music, and my flame snuffed out.

“Up,” Aunt Carol barked.

I sat straight up, and I regretted the sudden movement. My head pounded, and my throat was dry and raw. But at least she’d woken me from a nightmare in which Rune was surgically removing my vocal cords and whispering in my ear that I’d never sing again.

I looked down at my body, covered in dried blood and bruises and fang marks. I’d never been more confused. I knew the nightmare I’d had was a dream, not reality. But I also had all these real memories from last night—visions of running from Rune, of him hurting me. I knew they weren’t dreams. But I also knew Rune wasn’t here.

I’d been with Durian.

A lump lodged in my throat. I was suddenly catastrophically numb and hollow. I had too much shit to shove under my mental floorboards. Too many open, leaking wounds. I feared what would happen if my sturdy wall of denial and avoidance finally crumbled. Durian might get his wish sooner rather than later.

I was on the verge of breaking.

I could feel it.

And Lana was right—I knew if I did break, my Master would eat me alive. Literally.

Aunt Carol had been screaming at me, but I’d hardly heard a word of it. I got up and stared at her, unblinking, not even when she slapped me. It gave me a sick sense of satisfaction to hear her yell at and hit me to no avail, unable to penetrate my dissociation.

I was barely present for the shower where my blood washed down the drain. Nor for the prayers recited on my knees by the window. I didn’t feel a thing when food, water, and a blood replenishing tonic was forced down my throat.

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