Page 74 of Merciless Prince
“I don’t believe you,” he said, words thick and heavy on his tongue as he drew back and fixed me with a contemptuous stare. “Everything that comes out of that pretty little mouth is a lie. But I’m going to put a stop to that.”
As he spoke, my last remnants of hope died away, and fear kindled in my stomach all over again.
Killian brought the knife closer to my chest, resting the very tip of it on my right nipple. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he said, voice dripping with malice. “All the ways I can hurt you and make you scream.”
I didn’t respond. I was holding my breath to make sure my chest didn’t rise in case the slight movement was enough to make the knife break the skin.
Killian dropped the tip of the blade to my abdomen, tracing a slow circle around my navel before moving it down to my left inner thigh. “If I apply the slightest amount of pressure, this thing will shred you to ribbons. It’s so sharp you’ll barely even feel it happening,” he went on. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whispered, dipping my chin in deference.
He turned the knife over and dragged the blunt side along my inner thigh, slowly moving it up to my bare pussy.
My breath hitched in my chest as I watched the cold metal slide closer and closer. A chill rolled up my spine. Then, to my utter horror, a shameful mix of excitement and pleasure unfurled in my belly, blooming like a dark flower. The danger of having such a sharp blade so close to my most sensitive area had awoken something inside me, making my core pulse with thrilling little jolts of electricity.
I tried to tell myself it was nothing more than a primal fear response; my brain’s way of searching for some sort of connection in this godforsaken place, but that didn’t stop the guilt from flooding through my body as my skin tingled from Killian’s touch.
This was the same man who’d stalked me and tormented me for weeks. The man who put my best friend in a coma. Yet here I was, getting turned on by him as he taunted me with a knife.
I was sick. Maybe just as sick as him.
I was sure he could see the arousal glistening between my legs, but he didn’t mention it. Instead he pulled the knife away and slid it back in his pocket.
He stalked over to the bag by the wall and retrieved a length of black fabric. When he returned to the torture board, he wrapped it around my face and tied it behind my head, blocking out my vision.
“I’m feeling generous, so I’ll let you have one last chance,” he said with dark finality in his voice. “Give me those names.”
I swallowed hard and lifted my chin. “I don’t have any names to give you,” I said, stubbornly repeating the lie from earlier.
I was petrified of the pain that was coming any second now, but I couldn’t let myself break. Couldn’t betray my friends and turn them over to this hellish place.
Killian grunted with irritation and stepped away again, leaving me shivering on the board. I dearly wished he hadn’t blindfolded me. Not knowing when any of the cuts or blows were coming made it ten times worse for me.
Of course, he knew that. That was why he did it—to torment me as much as possible, even when he wasn’t touching me.
He left me alone for several minutes this time. When his footsteps finally echoed through the space again, my heart began to pound so fast it felt as if it might explode right out of my chest.
Seconds later, I felt Killian’s breath on my skin, leaving a warm trail over my collarbones. That pleasant sensation was followed by the sudden sting of the knife slicing across my right forearm.
My body jolted on the board, and the scream that tore itself from my lips was raw and bestial. “Stop!Stop!”
Blood was spurting from the wound already. I felt it running down my skin in warm, sticky rivulets.
Killian’s breath ghosted over the shell of my ear again. “Who were you with that night at Clyde House, Shay?”
I gasped out the first few words of my response. “I… I wasn’t a real guest. You know that. I was just hired with a bunch of other actors to fill out the crowd at your grandfather’s birthday party.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I know. I’m just saying, I arrived with all the other actors, but I wasn’twithany of them,” I said. “It wasn’t a social event. We had to work the party and pretend to be guests, and it was made clear to us that we couldn’t socialize with each other. Only the real guests.”
“Wrong answer.” The blade sliced down my other arm, making me scream until I felt as if my lungs would burst.
Killian gave me a few seconds to recover before questioning me again. “Who was with you when you went outside and found the tunnel?”
“No one. It was just me,” I said through gritted teeth, struggling to breathe as pain ricocheted across every nerve ending.
“Are you incapable of learning?” Killian asked, slowly drawing the blade down my abdomen. “Or do you just enjoy pain?”
