Page 11 of Taken By Touch and Torment

Humans, witches, and shifters looked at us with respect as we passed through Nyx. That was the thing about mortals—their allegiances and moods were frighteningly changeable. That was why I didn’t much care when I’d fallen out of favor. This generation had no idea the horrors my clan had saved them from, as most hadn’t been alive during the war. Certainly, none of the humans or shifters. Now that we’d rescued not only Isabella’s cell of slaves but also three others as we withdrew from the born districts, it didn’t surprise me in the least we were back to being the good guys. Especially with the way the born had treated mortals on their way out of our own districts, going on slaughtering rampages in the name of Lillian.

“How’s William, Blondie?” Uriah asked as we turned down another cobblestone street.

Snow’s head swiveled in his direction, shock and then anger in her eyes. “First of all, as if I’ve had any time for or interest in men since Scarlett fell apart and then was kidnapped.”

Uriah’s smirk fell, but his cockiness hadn’t left him completely.

“Second, how do you even know about that? My—my sex life is none of your concern.” Her cheeks flushed, which made her angrier. “You vampires are so intrusive. And you’re way too close with each other. You’re like a weird fanatical cult.”

I lifted a brow at her. “Don’t you belong to a coven, witch?” I may have learned her name, but she didn’t need to know that.

Uriah laughed, shifting closer to Snow.

Flustered, she crossed her arms and evaded both of our gazes.

“I was just curious, sheesh,” Uriah said, as painfully transparent as ever. He watched her face, his satisfied grin slowly spreading.

My flicker of amusement in irritating Snow and watching Uriah pine over her was short-lived. Because I couldn’t be close to Scarlett’s friend without obsessing over the little seductress. And if my obsessions were unhealthy before, they were downright sinister now.

I wasn’t merely missing Scarlett, haunted by her beauty, her vulnerable heart and her dangerous mind; I was also imagining all the ways they were harming her—hurting her even worse than I had before they stole her. And every time I imagined Durian or one of his men touching her, I immediately fantasized about all the ways I would rip them limb from limb. I envisioned how I would tear skin from flesh, invent new ways of torture never before seen in even the depths of Lillian’s underworld.

“This way,” a human healer said to us at the back of the building. Her lips were tight, eyeing our clan tattoos with severe trepidation. Still, she allowed us to pass through the quiet halls, checking at each turn for traumatized humans.

I didn’t want to harm any of these mortals either. I was fully prepared to hide myself and Uriah in my shadows if worse came to worse.

Soft laughter floated from a nearby room. It sounded like a group of rescued women were playing a card game. One of them was encouraging another, speaking to her like Snow used to speak to Scarlett when she needed to be reminded of her own worth. I’d witnessed it at least a dozen times when I’d been following Little Flame.

There was another burst of hesitant laughter.

Even in my single-minded focus, I was shocked at the depth of feeling sprouting from my icy heart. Warmth spread from my invisible wounds, even as they pulsed and ached. I imagined Scarlett laughing and playing with them, finally healing the trauma she hadn’t yet integrated.

The trauma that was now being multiplied exponentially.

The witch lights above flickered, and the human shot me a glare as if she knew I was responsible. I quickly reined in my power, clenching my fists and studying the soothing light blue walls as Uriah and Snow half-heartedly bickered.

“I’ll be right outside,” the healer said, lifting her chin and allowing us to enter a room to her left.

The three of us entered the space. Light beamed through tall windows. They were open, the pink curtains softly billowing in the frigid air.

A blonde woman sat in a wooden chair, unmoving. She was dressed for the outdoors in a puffy blue coat, the sun illuminating her solemn features.

Her eyes flew open when we moved closer, and she was quick to rise to her feet, her features twisting into disdain.

“Are you here to apologize for being a spineless, incompetent ruler, Rune the Ruthless?”

6

SCARLETT

When the door to my chambers flew open that evening, I was sure it was Durian or one of his guards sent to kill me. Rosalind might not have said what I was as soon as she saw me, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t alerted someone after I’d been ordered back to my room.

I couldn’t make sense of any of it. The way she’d moved about the throne room without an ounce of fear. The only ones who appeared to hate her outwardly were a few of the born women and the aunts. Most of the mortals genuinely seemed pleased to see her—especially the young girl I’d learned was named Mairin. Mairin idolized Rosalind as if she were an older sister. She didn’t scorn her for being an attention-hungry, evil harlot.

But they knew what she was—I’d heard one of the aunts say it under her breath. Wicked demoness, a horrible influence on Lillian’s servants.

Rosalind had watched me just as closely as I her, and I hadn’t gained an inch. I couldn’t read her desires, ascertain her true feelings or motives. She was a wild card, and it was driving me even more insane than I’d already become.

I stopped pacing as my witch handler entered, my shoulders aching from how tightly they’d been tensed.

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