Page 7 of Taken By Touch and Torment

I followed the threads of energy that connected me to Durian. Flashes of impulses and intuitions flitted through my mind. I thought of Snow, telling me she could see my magick bursting from my aura.

Right now, your powers are all gunked up, she’d said after she’d learned more about my succubus nature. Sometimes they’re blocked, and other times, your emotions are causing them to leak out all over the place. You’re operating off pure instincts. Imagine being completely in control of who you are influencing and how.

At the time, I’d told her I didn’t want to learn how to control my powers. I’d wanted her to cut them out of me instead. And though that was still what I wanted, wielding this parasitic curse might’ve been the only agency I still had.

You want to be done with this, I whispered to Durian’s mind as his other hand inched toward my breasts. I could sense that though he’d left my genitals alone, he still wanted to grope me—to show me how little control over my body I still had. He wanted this court to see I belonged to him. He wanted to mortify me, to see even more tears fall from my bright blue eyes. He wanted their brightness to dim.

But I knew he also had other desires, ones that had nothing to do with me. If this was some sort of celebration, that meant the rumored impending war had, in fact, begun. His desire for me was nothing compared to his desire for conquest. His desire to defeat Rune and rule all of Valentin.

You have much more important things to do. You want to torment your new toy later. She’s nothing. Nothing at all in the face of everything you’ve ever wanted.

I repeated the sentiment over and over.

Durian froze, a flicker of momentary confusion in his eyes before his fingers halted before the curve of my right breast. I fought to keep my breathing even, to appear only humiliated and frightened as he watched me.

He needed to feel triumphant. Even if I had won.

He removed his hands from my body. “You may walk, pet. Go play with the other servants. No one is to feed from you.”

I concealed my overwhelming relief.

He grinned, his dark eyes flashing. “Except your Master, of course.”

4

SCARLETT

The other slaves, or at least the ones not currently in use, were gathered on the carpet in a plush nook in the far corner. Couches, chairs, and loveseats surrounded us. It was as though we were in an invisible cage, on display for hungry vampires to snatch us at any moment.

Except for me. And I learned quickly that while my position kept me safe from Durian’s court feeding from me at will, it earned me no favor in the group of my peers.

Once again, I found myself surrounded by glaring humans.

“I heard she has her own room,” one girl said, lifting her chin as she looked at everyone but me. She had copper hair, freckles, and moss green eyes. She had to be no older than nineteen, and her youth broke my heart.

“Obviously,” a woman closer to my age retorted, staring at me unabashedly with captivating hazel-green eyes. She brushed an unruly black curl behind her ear. “She’s serving Durian. The future born king.”

A vampire cackling like a hyena suddenly leaped onto the carpet. She licked her black lips as she stared at me, but she grabbed the man sitting to my left instead. She dragged him away, sinking her teeth into his neck. His eyes rolled back, from dissociation or bliss, I wasn’t sure. Probably both. With the glazed-over look in most of these slaves’ eyes, I could see clearly they were drugged. Or self-medicated, perhaps.

I didn’t want to ever get to that point. I’d rather be dead.

Our babysitters watched us like hawks, listening to our every word. A couple were stoic guards, and a few were so-called aunts. Which I now understood were trafficking handlers charged with training us to be the best slaves we could be for our vampire overlords.

The woman my age sighed. “Fine, I’ll bite. What’s your name?”

I didn’t feel like talking, especially not to people who clearly already hated me without even giving me a chance. But I was worn down, and I’d rather not give them a reason to despise me. Better their ire be baseless.

“Scarlett.” I glanced around at them, waiting for someone to introduce themselves in return.

Just when I thought they were all going to leave me hanging, the woman who’d asked me for my name finally spoke.

“Lana,” she offered, even as she appeared utterly disinterested. Still, her eyes traced over my nearly nude form before looking away.

I looked at the young girl, lifting a brow. They were the two out of the bunch that seemed the most coherent and present, at least. Most others looked very much like their lights were on, but no one was home.

She stared back, her eyes narrowing. “I can’t wait for Rosalind to show up. I wonder if one of her little birds has chirped about Scarlett and her flawless performance up on the dais.”

At the reminder that the whole room had seen Durian beat, inspect, and chastise me like a wild animal he wanted to domesticate, I flushed with shame.

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