Page 67 of Bound By Darkness

His fingers poked the growing welt, a scoff brewing on his cracked, dry lips. “Enjoying yourself?”

My lips twitched against the rough patches of his hands. Bubbling laughter erupted from my chest as I opened my mouth. “Squeaky.” Had his voice always sounded this stridulous and grating?

Draven narrowed his gaze. His fingers dug deep enough into my flesh to bruise. “Quiet.”

Full, hearty laughter rose from my chest. It did not stop with the strike of his hand or his chastising glare.

“Filthy,” he muttered, his nimble fingers examining the rest of me as I laughed into the stale air.

Amazing. Had the world always been so striking? So brilliant?

He poked and prodded me before shifting to the young male beside me, his body fresh. Only a few cuts marred his skin. The true torment resided on the soles of his feet, which Draven had carved yesterday, stuffing black rock after black rock into each hand-made pocket.

The young man’s chains rattled against the stone as he pleaded to Draven. “Kill me. Please, kill me.”

“Kill me,” I mocked, fits of giggling escaping my lips. “No one dies here,” I slurred, biting my lip to keep the roaring contained.

Draven squared his shoulders, a muscle clenching in his jaw as he lifted the man’s foot. Black blood oozed and wept from the cuts. “Your wounds are infected, but not hers.”

“Infected,” I repeated. “If I’m infected”—my head flopped to the side— “do I get more powder?”

I wanted more.I cravedmore of that sweet, sweet powder.

Draven’s jaw clenched, his fingers flexing as he dropped the man’s foot. He took large, calculated strides to me until his eyes stared into mine. “Shut up, or I’ll carve out more than just your flesh.”

I stuck my tongue at him, my lips quirking at the sides.

His face grew red as he flicked the lever, and my body crashed into the ground below. Loud coughs and laughter erupted from me.

As his kicks met my bruised flesh, all my body clung to were the waves of numbness emitting from the powerful substance. It continued to spread as his kicks spewed blood from my lips. It mixed with the filth accumulating on my body with each violent kick.

The chains yanked me back, my temple crashing into the thick stone as Draven wrapped it around my slender neck, my hands twisting at odd angles. My face turned purple, and my vision blurred as the world broke into particles of light and color.

Yes, my body sighed—pure bliss. Knowing the torture would be over in a moment. Knowing no one would slice me open, not in death.

The chain loosened around my neck as thecolor slowly spread into my cheeks, powerful rasps of air stuffing into my lungs. I cried as my body filled with air. I cursed it. I cursed the air, the heavens. I cursed it all.

“I hold the keys to your life,” he spat. “I decide when you die… when your purpose to King Hywell is done.”

I whimpered, my body shaking from withdrawal—gone. The high had dissipated like it never existed.

I was stuck here, a never-ending cycle of torture awaiting me. The rebels had not appeared at daybreak and hope was lost. They had failed, leaving me to rot here until the Galar’s guards tossed me over the misty peaks.

Draven clicked the lever as I violently shook, my eyes bloodshot and filled with need.

“P—Please,” I stuttered, coughing bits of blood. “More. I need more.”

Draven’s lips curled upward as his charcoal eyes shone brightly. “No,” he purred. “You will not receive another dosage even if you offer up your pathetic life.”

I needed it.

I needed it.

“Please,” I begged, my lips shaking.

Draven turned around, his feet gliding over stone with precise steps.

“Come back here!” I screamed, my hands shaking the chains violently. Sobs wrecked through my chest. “I need it!”

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