Page 100 of Taken By Touch and Torment

“Don’t misunderstand. Love for justice can necessitate brutality. Love for a better future can necessitate war. Love for mortal life can require the harshest acts of vengeance and retribution. The dichotomy between love and violence can send the weak minded into a state of panic. But this is the fundamental difference between the turned and the born. Our side values power gleaned from love, and their side values power for power’s sake. A nasty business indeed.”

I remembered Rune explaining why he’d gone back to Crescent Haven all those years. To remember his why. He was a protector of mortals, forced to posture as a ruthless clan leader in order to remain effective.

It was not dissimilar to the way dominants played their strict, sadistic roles with their submissives, both parties understanding innately that underneath the game lay only respect and care.

“Also, I knew that if Rune fell for a woman after centuries of keeping everyone at arm’s length, I would come to value my relationship with her as well,” she said. “I do not wish to treat you like a glass object on a shelf, my dear.”

Her smile was hovering dangerously close to flirtatious.

“Good,” I said. “I get it. I was only just rescued. Everyone expects me to be crying in bed all day or something. But I don’t want to be that weak, useless version of myself. I refuse to be. I want to be of service to something bigger than myself.”

The playful flirtation melted, and Sadie stopped walking, turning to face me. The approval in the planes of her face eased something tight inside of me, unraveling the ball of tension in my chest until I could inhale deeply again.

“I have a feeling you’ve received your own fair share of derision for your dark and powerful forces, no?”

My skin was suddenly too warm under my layers. I frowned, thinking of Isabella and the women in my village who’d bullied me relentlessly. One of my worst bullies, Emeline, had spent years mimicking how I spoke and how I dressed, copying my every move, all the while launching cruel campaigns against me in the name of Helia. At one point, her behavior had become so delusional and psychotic that I feared she was going to try to wear my skin as a suit.

Women’s obsession was sometimes worse than the men’s—more vicious and long-lasting. No matter how much I tried to keep my head down to give them less to work with, they couldn’t let it go so long as I still breathed. Jaxon had been my only protection, my only relief. It was heartbreaking how long I’d been dimming myself as a form of protection.

“You could say that.” I laughed in a dark sort of way.

“Jealousy is the most destructive force in the world,” Sadie said. “It’s a poison that erases our ability to discern reality, to understand truth. It allows others to control our moods, dictate our actions and our desires. True power is gleaned from within. And that is why Durian and his men make stupid moves. Their envy and spite will spell their downfall.”

I considered her a moment. I wanted to confirm her suspicions with my own intel about Durian, Brennan, and Kole. I yearned to hear her perspective, to measure her wisdom and knowledge against my own. But I also hesitated. I knew Sadie was too ancient and powerful to trust on intuition alone.

I remained silent for now.

“You’re so young, Scarlett. To be as mature and strong as you are, after enduring ordeals that would’ve ruined most beings, is a testament to your endless potential. Not as a weapon. But as a powerful, dangerous woman.”

The wind picked up. Crows squawked in the distance. Sadie took one step toward me in her shiny black heels. A twig snapped underneath her right foot.

Her words reached somewhere deep, to a part of me that had been yearning desperately for attention and validation. It was the part of me that wanted to make my life—this magick, this anger, this injustice and trauma—to make it all mean something.

“I can help you release what has been holding you back,” she said. “The nasty jealousy of weaker women, the bitterness of mediocre men, the fear of taking up space and calling attention to yourself. These things no longer serve you, and it is time to let them go.”

I thought of those dead humans. I thought of Rosalind.

Then I lifted my chin and stared into Sadie’s sharp green eyes. I imagined the freedom her words promised.

“I can help you come to terms with who you are and the path that has brought you here. I can make you stronger. I can prepare you for battle, in whatever form it takes.” She took a small step back. “But only by your will and direction. This is your destiny. No one else’s. Not even darling Rune’s.”

“What if Rune forbids it?” I asked.

Sadie smiled, all calm certainty and authority. “He won’t.”

Rune found me in a nook in his private library, adjacent to his locked study. It was filled top to bottom with books, a sliding wooden ladder to reach the higher shelves. The ceiling was a depiction of the gods who resided in the heavens, Helia and Selena included.

I’d scooted a cushioned, circular white chair over to the farthest corner, next to a window with the curtains drawn. I felt safest protected by bookshelves and walls in a position to see the entire room. Escaping into a book had helped more than I’d ever thought it would. It was like leaving my body in a healthy way, allowing my mind to wander somewhere else without the stress of dissociation. I understood now why Rune had fled into books his entire childhood.

I wondered at what age he’d read the kinky classic I now held?

When he entered, I jumped, my heart hammering.

Even if it didn’t make any sense—given I’d found it in his own library, and Rune and I had done far more than see each other naked—I quickly closed the book and wedged it in between the blanket and pillow beside me.

Rune’s dark eyes landed on me, and when he came into full view, my heart stuttered for an entirely different reason than a trauma response.

It appeared as though he’d tried to clean up his appearance, but he had missed a few flecks of blood on his neck and face. Those thorny vines were thrumming with power, the faintest tinge of darkness leaking from his skin underneath his black clothes.

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