Page 4 of Taken By Touch and Torment

I loved him, and I missed him. I’d never yearned for anything more.

“Rune,” I said again, breathy, desperate, heartbroken.

His hands once again wrapped around my throat, and this time, they squeezed. His shadows crawled all over me in a tight, painful embrace. They slid over my mouth and nose, digging into my hips and stomach and screaming thighs.

And I let them. My body lurched instinctively, fighting for air. But I stayed silent, staring into Rune’s irises as he killed me.

He didn’t have to say anything—I could hear his words in my mind clearly. Soulless, duplicitous demon. Parasite.

Nothing.

As I fell away, I saw Helia’s radiant light above and Lillian’s cruel beauty below. The sun and the dark moon. The two halves of my soul.

Then I saw Durian’s face as I gasped for air. His beady black eyes and strong nose, his straight blond hair. He lifted me and placed me back on my bed by the fire, his ice-cold hand petting the side of my head like I was a skittish firebird.

“There, there, pet. You have more sleeping to do if you have any hope of attaining perfection. Tomorrow is your first day at court.”

3

SCARLETT

The same witch who’d erased Rune’s fang marks from my skin was my alarm clock the next morning.

“Up,” was all she said, loudly and perfectly annunciated.

Every morning since Rune had told me I was unclaimed, it took me several agonizing seconds to remember I was no longer his. To remember I was a succubus, instead.

This morning, I had even more to remember. For starters, I was now a slave, just like Isabella—my cruel sister who was not actually my sister. I still didn’t know what to think or feel about her, and to be honest, I didn’t care to try to remedy that confusion when I had far more pressing concerns.

I bit back tears as I moved to my feet, my gaze lowered to the burgundy carpet.

“Today’s uniform,” the witch said.

She placed a flowing, translucent black gown on a rack by the window—the window with iron bars outside to prevent me, presumably, from leaping to my death. At least the second hanger included opaque golden undergarments, as skimpy as they were.

She turned back toward me and gestured to the impeccable, luxurious vanity and rose-colored stool. “You will sit there and do your hair and makeup in a way that is pleasing to your Master. You will wear the perfume in the silver bottle. If you feel you lack any of the necessary tools to attend to your beauty needs, then you will ring the bell.” She pointed to a shiny bell on the vanity counter, and I could sense a charge of magick forged into its metal.

Her eyes narrowed. “You will refer to me as Aunt Carol. And I expect to hear confirmation that you comprehend my instructions, just as you would give your Master.”

Aunt? As if she were my new family? And why the hell was a witch this high in Durian’s ranks, anyway? The born saw all mortals as lesser-than, even witches. That was why mortals united with the turned to defeat the born during the war.

At the first sign of her hand twitch, I said, “Yes, Aunt Carol. I understand.”

Besides the pet bed and vanity, there wasn’t much else in my quarters in terms of furniture. There was a single plush black chair with a high back. There was a bathroom, too, though I’d barely glanced around its decadent surroundings the single time I’d used it.

Aunt Carol followed my gaze to the porcelain sitting tub with golden feet that I could glimpse beyond the open door.

She took a step toward me and wrinkled her nose. “You’d better bathe first.”

My human body might’ve been merely a deceptive glamour, but it sure as hell didn’t feel like one right now. My knees were screaming. I’d never before been so grateful for the presence of carpet, so heartbroken when the patches of soft cushioning came to an end.

I crawled all the way to my Master, much to his delight. The sheer black gown hid absolutely nothing from the dozens of prying gazes. My golden, jewel-encrusted underwear shimmered under the witch lights. They offered little relief from my immodesty.

“What a good little human,” Liza cooed.

Durian allowed me to sit back on bent knees in a kneeling position. He stroked my head as I glanced around, my witch handler curtsying before taking her leave.

I was in a throne room, sitting atop a dais overlooking the most violent display of mass hedonism I’d ever seen. Vampires below were drinking elixir, feasting on humans, dancing to strange, archaic music, and openly indulging in all manner of sensual acts. When I saw a human on some kind of ritualistic altar, pleading and writhing as vampires holding daggers encircled her, my stomach sunk. I looked back at my immediate surroundings.

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