Page 92 of The Lycans: Vol Four

He pulled that strand of hair he was rubbing between his fingers and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. The sound of footsteps had him dropping the lock and taking several steps back faster than I thought humanly possible.

I never asked, but I didn’t need to in order to understand that we were nothing but disgusting specimens to them, attractions for high-paying humans who wanted to see “fantastical creatures” torn apart over and over again.

So any arousal or desire displayed toward an Otherworld would be seen as disgusting, forbidden, and traitorous.

But I’d witnessed enough horrors in this place over the last year to know that it didn’t stop them from taking what wasn’t theirs.

I heard the screams and cries. I’d heard the curses and threats. And I’d wished I’d been able to help the ones who were being hurt in more ways than I could ever imagine.

“Today’s a special day for you,” the guard who entered said and gave me a disgustingly big smile.

It wasn’t one of friendliness and wasn’t even one of happiness. I’d seen these exact grins countless times as they tortured me.

The expression on his face was one of pure sadistic pleasure for whatever they were about to do to me.

“You’re the star attraction tonight,” the new guard said as he came into the room and shut the door, a large black bag slung over his shoulder.

There was a metal exam table sitting in the center of the room, and when he tossed the bag onto it, the clink of metal banging together from whatever was inside the duffel echoed in the room.

Although my heart was starting to race faster and beads of perspiration dotted my brow, I kept my outward appearance stoic.

Because showing fear only excited them more.

I could hear the sound of raised voices and glanced at the large window across from where I was chained up. I curled my hands tightly into fists, my nails cutting into my palms.

The restraints that kept my arms bound at my sides and tethered to the wall made it impossible to move.

My back burned, my skin felt tight, and as I watched the humans on the other side of that window start to take their seats, I felt rising nausea claim me.

Their gazes were locked on me, their grins wide from ear to ear, their eyes alight with horrendous sadistic anticipation.

“V,” the guard addressed the human who’d been touching me just moments before. “Take it down and bring it over here.”

I was nothing but an object to them, not even seen as a living creature.

The one named V came toward me, and I could see he tried not to look at me with anything but indifference or even disgust.

He undid the chains from the wall and yanked me toward him so forcefully I lost my balance and stumbled forward.

There was a round of loud laughter from behind the window as the gawking humans took in my unsteadiness.

I fell against the exam table, the manacles around my wrists clanging against the metal. I could see the waviness of the magic surrounding them, and when I lifted my arms to right myself, my limbs felt like lead, full and heavy as if they weren’t really mine but just extensions of the chains that kept me bound.

The guard grinned at me, and the flash of his white teeth was anything but pleasant. He pulled out a couple of instruments. It was then I noticed an elaborate table with red velvet covering it pressed up against the wall, clearly visible to the spectators.

First, he pulled out a saw, then a machete. He took out a pair of pliers, some garden shears, and finally a dagger. He laid them all out across the velvet cloth, and I could see the human spectators rising up slightly so that they could look at each tool.

Fear was a very real friend inside of me, heavy and suffocating enough that I felt my bravado falter.

The guard who’d brought the bag into the exam room went over to a panel on the wall, pressing a button as he glanced at the spectators.

“Client 523A. You were the highest bidder and get to decide which tool is implemented for this session.”

I could hear the murmurs of the humans on the other side of the glass a second before one of the pressed suit–wearing males got up and disappeared from view.

A moment later he stepped through the doorway and walked into the room, his gaze sliding over me. He had this disturbingly intense gleam in his eye.

Then he turned his focus to the table with the tools and walked over to them, running his fingers along each one. He picked up the dagger first, holding it in his hand before setting it down and going for the saw.

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