Page 31 of The Queen's Serpent

The bleeding man has been hoisted up and strapped to the tree, his arms stretched across two branches as his back presses against the thick, gnarled tree trunk. It almost looks like a horrid crucifixion, one that has the scream that wants to escape my lips, trapping in my throat and choking me of all my air.

The sounds of his whimpers are loud in the otherwise quiet space. Men stand around watching, waiting for what will happen next, for the orders from their boss, a psychopath, who will dictate the punishment that needs to be met by this stranger who tried to kill him.Kill or be killed;that is the law of the jungle. The predator consumes the prey in order to survive, and so Diego Cabano must do the same, to prove he is the strongest predator within these jungle walls.

A thrill of excitement mixes with the trepidation and fear inside of me, until it becomes all mixed up in a ball of overwhelming emotions, and brings with it nausea that threatens to have me purging the meager amounts of food that I consumed earlier.

Diego releases me when we are only a few feet away from the restrained man, and one of his men steps forward and passes him the machete, the sunlight glinting off the metallic, menacing blade. Saliva pools in my mouth as my head spins.He can’t do this. He can’t be this barbaric, can he?

“Who sent you?” Diego’s voice is calm and steady, unlike my own racing heart, which is threatening to burst out of my chest, and run as fast away from this situation as possible.

The man whimpers in obvious pain but refuses to utter any words. I want to speak out and urge him just to give Diego the name, and save himself from the pain and torment that is about to happen to him, by his refusal to speak, but instead, I bite down on my bottom lip to restrain my own whimpers.

The blade arcs in the air as Diego swings forward, catching the man on his upper thighs and embedding the blade deeply into his flesh. The scream that leaves his lips is hoarse, and sounds more animalistic than human. Diego drags the machete away, and a gush of red taints the roots and bark of the tree below the man. There is so much red already, and we are nowhere neardone. I feel the sour taste of bile rising up the back of my throat, but I force it back down.

“Who sent you to kill me?” Diego moves to the right of the man, his bright green eyes shining with a depraved light from within. The monster he keeps confined shines through their depths, and surfaces to play with its food.

He’s terrifying and yet somehow beautiful like this, filled with rage and bloodlust. A general ready to enact battle, and protect himself and his men from their enemies. My stomach clenches as my hands become clammy. I realize I’m actually less horrified by him, and that I am incredibly attracted to him in his current form. The part of me that craves submission wants to prostrate at his feet.

“Fuuuck you…” The pained words barely leave the man’s lips before Diego raises the machete again, this time slicing through part of the man’s bare foot. The cut isn’t clean, parts of flesh and muscle still lingering in its wake, as he yanks the blade back.

The smell of copper and iron overwhelms me, as does the stench of urine. The man has lost control of his body functions, even as he refuses to give Diego a name, refuses to save himself any more pain. I gag, no longer able to stop the burning bile from racing up my throat, and turn to the side, bracing my hands on my knees and emptying the contents of my stomach. The sounds of my retching are so loud, and it seems as if time stands still in this bloody garden.

“Come here, Issy.” Diego beckons to me with his hand covered in the blood of his enemy. I use the back of my hand to swipe at my mouth and think about running, even as my legs tremble. He must see the look on my face, and be able to read my thoughts, because his head nods slowly, and a look of pure menace crosses his features.

“If you attempt to run, I will hunt you down, and you will take his place. Is that what you want, my broken doll? Hmm, do youwant to be strapped to the tree again, or would you rather stand at my side?”

There is no real choice that he is offering me, and he knows it. I know that if I take the man’s place, death would not come for me, only punishment. I step forward, my bare feet sinking into the tainted red dirt. A breeze passes over my skin, and the call of a bird overhead steals my attention away from the horrors I’m presented with, but only momentarily. All this beauty, and he chooses to taint it with death.

“Take the blade, Issy.” He doesn’t give me a choice, reaching forward for my hand and wrapping my fingers around the thick, solid wood handle tightly. My hands are slick with sweat, and the cooling blood just makes it worse. The minute he releases his grip, the blade almost slips from my grasp, and I have to use my other hand to help me continue to hold it.

Diego moves behind me, pressing his broad, muscled chest into my back until I can feel every inch of him firmly against every inch of me. Heat radiates off his form, and into my overheated flesh, as perspiration slides down my body. I’m trying desperately not to lose my mind, not to allow my body to cave in on itself, and have a massive panic attack. My blood rushes through my veins, the sound loud in my ears.

His breath lingers on my neck and blows against my hair. My body trembles in the over-warm embrace. His fingers wrap around my left wrist, and my right forearm, as he pushes me forward. One step and then another until we are closer to the man.NO, my mind screams, and I try to push against his hold. My feet sink into the ground, determined not to move another inch. I want to grow roots deep into the earth like the old tree, to stop him from forcing me forward.

“He would have raped you if he got his hands on you last night,” his voice slithers across my skin. “He would have taken you back to his men and let them all rape you. Over and over,they would have taken their turns on you, Issy. You would have been a prisoner used to teach me a lesson, before they murdered you, and sent me and your grandmother your body parts.”

He takes a deep breath, and his lips touch my temple in a soft caress. “That is, if they didn’t make you bear their spawn first, or sell you to the highest bidder. They would have gotten a pretty penny for you,Princesa.”

I shut my eyes, the images that he is painting causing further nausea and fear to churn in my gut. He’s right, and I know it. This man would have hurt me, used me to teach the Cabanos a lesson, regardless of if I was an innocent pawn in this game between cartels.

The problem is that Diego has also done everything he spoke about to me. He, too, has abused me and shared me with his men. He, too, has taken me from my loved ones and held me hostage, and although I know my fate could have been even worse than it is now. I am nothing but a prized piece to be stolen, and used by anyone who is willing to take the risk.

The hypocrisy of his words are lost on him, but not on me. I recognize him for the manipulator and monster that he is. He would do anything to get what he wanted, and that has anger brimming through my limbs. When will he ever stop trying to use me to further his agenda?Never, not while you have breath left in your body.

His lips meet the shell of my ear, and his tongue licks around the delicate skin, causing shivers to race up and down my body. “You know I speak the truth, Issy.” His teeth sink into my ear lobe, forcing a whimper to leave my lips. “They can’t have you, my slut, you are mine. I will be the only person to fill your pretty pussy, and make this belly swell.”

My lungs expand and contract at a rapid, terrifying rate that has my head spinning, and my vision threatening to blur. How,even now, can his words have me teetering off a cliff, willing myself to dive head-first into his depravity?

I can feel the pulsing in my core and wetness slipping out of me. It should fill me with disgust. Disgust at my own depravity and weakness where Diego is concerned, but it doesn’t. Instead, it’s as if lightning hits my body and fills me with bright, hot energy that courses through my veins. Rage, an all-consuming rage, envelops me and promises me sweet vengeance against the world that keeps playing with me like a toy.

Diego raises my arm and forces it to swing, until the end of the blade meets the side of the man’s abdomen, and blood arcs and sprays my hands and arms with the impact. “Again, Issy! Show them all that you are not weak, that you will not lay down and die. That you are my queen waiting to take her fucking throne.”

A buzzing penetrates my skull, drowning out the sounds of the man’s pitiful cries, his barely-there voice no longer a concern of mine. When I stare at his mangled and bloody body, I no longer see him, nor do I hear Diego’s voice urging me on. Instead, I see the man who abused my sister, and all the men who have used me in the past to get what they want, and would continue to use me. I see everyone who has made me feel weak and helpless, made me feel small, less than, and worthless.

I see my grandmother with her sad, disappointed eyes staring at me and my sister, who always feels the need to protect me. I see the coffins of my mother and father, who left me in this world as an orphan, alone and unloved. The images of every person who has ever hurt me race before my eyes.

My arms swing without my mind giving them direction, and the blade lands in the middle of the man’s chest, slicing through fabric and skin until all I see is red. I swing again, this time landing a blow to the man’s arm and severing it from its confined hold. The impact sends a jarring pain back up my forearms, butinstead of causing me to drop the blade, it makes me tighten my grip further.

A sort of madness takes over me, and I swing again and again until my body is spent of energy, and my arms can no longer lift the blade. A wet sensation covers me, sliding down my face and neck, causing the fabric of the dress I wear to be plastered to my skin, and covering every inch of me. I use one of my hands to swipe away at my face, and it comes away drenched in blood.

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