He raked the fingers of his good hand across the stone floor. His fingernails had been broken and torn from repeatedly doing this, but the pain was the only thing that distracted him from the overwhelmingneed.
His shadows gave a feeble twitch in his soul, but there was nothing else. They were as dead as he felt. His power wells couldn’t even begin to replenish naturally with these bands on his wrists.
He tipped his head back against the wall, a warm-skinned Fae with black curly hair and amber eyes filling his mind.
And he wondered what her blood would taste like.
He knew her name. It was there, in the back of his mind, but that was second to the craving. He knew her name, but all he cared about was that she was Fae.
A powerful Fae.
So much power just there for the taking. Why wasn’t anyone taking that? She was just walking around. There for anyone to have.
No, not anyone.
His.
She was his.
His to have.
His to take.
His to make bleed…
“Fuck!” Axel yelled again, knowing this wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. He knew she meant something to him, but he didn’t need it all. Just some of her and he’d be fine. It would be enough to take the edge off.
Something in his soul shuddered at the idea, and that was the only thing he could cling to that reminded him this wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to want this, but he was supposed to want her. It was confusing, and he didn’t understand, and he couldn’t think in all this godsforsaken silence.
But it did allow him to hear the footsteps some time later, which in turn allowed him to brace for the brightness of the light when the door was thrown open. It still stung as the light filtered through his eyelids and made him squeeze them shut even tighter. He assumed this was the same guard that always came in here, spoon-feeding him food and having him drink warm water from a straw. Wisely, the guard was a Night Child. At least his father hadn’t been lying about taking him to the Underground. Granted, there were a few Night Children employed outside of the Underground, but they tended to stay in the kingdoms that paid them their coin and supplied them their blood.
Maybe they’d had it right all along. Get paid in extra rations rather than coin…
“Do you think anyone has noticed you’re gone yet?”
That voice was not a Night Child though, and Axel cracked his eyes open, squinting through tiny slits at the male Legacy who stood before him. His auburn hair was cropped short, and his mossy green eyes sparkled with some kind of sadisticamusement as he stood over him. He still wore a three-piece suit, even here, as if the mere act of wearing the garment made him better than everyone else.
“What do you want?” Axel asked, tipping his head back once more.
“The same thing we’ve wanted from the beginning,” Mansel replied, moving closer.
Mansel was one of his father’s closest advisors. A distant cousin of his mother, he was a Nith Legacy, a descendant of the god of creativity. It had been his idea to chain Axel’s wrists to the floor with only a few links for movement. Having them also connected to his ankles was a special kind of torture as was being left in his undergarments. The cold of the room had seeped into his bones. He didn’t know how long he’d been down here, but it was long enough to have grown numb to the chill.
So yesterday they had bathed him in ice cold water. His teeth had still been chattering when he’d finally fallen asleep.
Fingers snapping in front of his face had him focusing on the Legacy again.
“Stay awake, Arius Heir. You’ve got a dinner date,” Mansel said, slapping this cheek a few times.
“I don’t think I’m dressed for such an occasion,” Axel replied, turning his chin away.
“That’s what these are for.”
It was only then that Axel realized he was holding clothing in his hand.
“You’re kidding, right?” Axel said. “How do you expect me to get dressed? Or did you forget you broke my fucking arm?”
“I did not forget that at all,” Mansel replied. Then he threw the clothing at him, the fabric falling into Axel’s lap. “I’m sure you can manage a pair of pants.”