Page 76 of Taken By Touch and Torment

My heart sunk, and my stomach twisted with guilt. “I can’t save them while Durian slowly kills me. I’m a secret succubus, not a witch or a vampire. You know as well as I do that my body is human.” I glanced down at my legs, the way they’d lost their muscle tone, covered in marks and bruises. Durian was ruining my body as much as he was ruining my mind. All of me was becoming smaller. “I can’t do a thing if I’m dead. If my body doesn’t give out, my mind eventually will. I’m working out a way to help them, to help all slaves and all of Valentin.”

“A bit grandiose, no?” Rosalind’s voice had a note of meanness to it, and it made my lip wobble.

I felt betrayed. I couldn’t read her true intentions right now, and worse than the betrayal was the nagging worry that she might thwart my own escape. Had I misread this whole situation?

“Maybe,” I snapped, rising to stand. “But I’m a slave who gets tormented and assaulted every day, and then instead of escaping in my sleep, I’m plagued with visions and nightmares all night long. While I’m slowly losing my fucking mind, you’re getting the princess treatment and doing as you please. So I think I’ll politely decline your judgment on my character.”

Rosalind laughed, bitterness contorting her usually beautiful face into something nearly unrecognizable. “There it is. You still think my life is a fairy tale. You don’t see me as a friend. You see me for my usefulness, just like those vampires you hate so much.” Her lip curled. “How’s all that hate fucking going, by the way? How many enemies are you bedding? I’ve lost count.”

“Fuck you.” I shook with pain and rage, the knife twist of being so horribly misunderstood.

Then, I replayed that thought—about feeling misunderstood—and my glare melted.

“I’m sorry,” I said, surprising the both of us.

Confusion flashed in Rosalind’s eyes.

“You feel misunderstood. I know your life is far from perfect, which was why I was trying to save you from it. We don’t have to trust each other fully, but dear gods, Rosalind. Can we at least both admit that we’re each trying to do what’s best with the undeniably shit hand we were dealt at birth and every day since?”

I saw reality for what it was again. Rosalind went from a spitting viper to a wounded, frightened hound. She looked at the ground, her features losing their rabidness.

“You are my friend. At least from my perspective,” I said.

She made a sound that sounded like a high-pitched hmmph. She turned away from me, toward one of the walls with dark floral wallpaper. “I understand now the male urge to punch walls.” She huffed. “I hate you, Scarlett.”

“I love you too, Rosalind.”

She took in a few more deep breaths and let her shoulders slowly drop back down to a relaxed position. Her fists unclenched.

She turned back to me, fighting the urge to smile. “I know you’re playing games with those stupid men. I know you’re good. Way better than I am. I want to hurt you because you make me feel insecure.”

I shook my head with a grin. “You make me feel insecure, too, if that helps. You’re so self-assured and confident, and you’re perfect at wielding your powers. Even the slaves love you, and most of them hate my guts. Like other women have hated me my whole life.”

I got changed into my club attire as I spoke. We were, unfortunately, still on a time crunch.

“You’ll learn, honey,” Rosalind said softly. “You’re not dying any time soon. You have all the time in the world to hone your craft. One day, you’ll be running circles around me. You already are in many areas. Everything that appears natural, I’ve spent years perfecting. Including finding ways to avoid the nasty jealousy of bitter girls and dumb boys.”

I stared at myself in the mirror. I was in a full, deep blue lingerie set adorned with tiny crystals that reminded me of the stars. Overtop was a sheer, matching blue tulle dress that fell off my shoulders and came to my upper thighs. Maybe I would’ve felt beautiful had I not been covered in bruises and ugly knife and bite marks.

I no longer recognized my own body.

“You need someone on the inside, anyway,” Rosalind said. “I want to help.”

I locked eyes with her in the mirror before pulling her into a hug. She was stiff at first, just as I had once been.

“I believe you.”

I slowly released her, and her face appeared beautifully vulnerable, like ice melting to a gentle stream.

She brushed a blonde strand out of my face. “Let’s get your ass back to your tattooed hottie.”

Black Sapphire was indeed a den of sin. Even if I knew Rosalind had only been lashing out, I still felt a stab of guilt in my stomach each time I locked eyes with a drugged human. How many of these mortals were slaves? Two-thirds? More?

Even if they weren’t slaves, how many of them were sober, in their right minds, and truly consenting? Very few, I imagined.

Just like the palace, the energy here was oppressive despite my ability to feed from its collective desire. This magick didn’t feel as good in my veins as what I gleaned from a good, clean seduction. I was profiting off cruelty to even taste the room’s sex and violence as it slid inside me.

As much as I wanted to ditch Brennan and Kole, I knew they were who Rune’s mortal eyes were looking for. I was sure Rune had described me to them, too, but staying near my marks was the only way for my rescuers to know for sure I was who they were after.

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