Page 9 of Bound By Darkness

Gayle’s laughter floated to my ears. “So you do scream and bleed red,” he purred, the whip cracking against the edge of my shoulder blade.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Again and again the whip sent searing pain through mybody like molten rock, the chains barely rattling from my limp arms.

Still, I counted.

It grounded me to a feeling beyond the blazing fire scorching my back and nausea rumbling in the pit of my stomach as the iron claws dug into my raw wrists, my chest pressed against the cool stone in search of relief.

Gasping for air, each rise and fall sent daggers piercing through my back at the torn flesh dangling there.

All I could think of was Moria entering her cell to discover the pile of ruined flesh I’d become. What would terrify her more? Finding my limp body or Gayle towering over me with red splotches against his clothes?

Again.

My fingers curled around hot metal as I bit my lip to keep from screaming, my body slamming against stone as laughter echoed in the room.

Would it ever end?

Again—

The whip clattered against the stone flooring, echoing its final kiss against my skin.

Gayle’s large hand gripped my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. “You did wonderful.” His brown eyes gleamed with pleasure as his hot breath coated my lungs with the smell of iron.

His massive body reached over mine to unlock my arms from the metallic hooks, my body slumping to the ground in a pile of ruined flesh.

I wanted to curse him, but my lips refused to open.

Wrapping the bloodied leather around his hand, he licked droplets of red from his lips. “I’d refrain from moving.” His boots slapped against stone as the door creaked. “Wouldn’t want you in poor shape for work tomorrow.”

The iron door slammed shut.

His whistles echoed in the damp tunnels, his footsteps lighter as he winded through the endless tunnels.

I waited until the whistling became nonexistent, a distant memory before I unfurled my screams against stone—to the rodents and food I’d discarded from lunch until hot tears raked down my cheeks.

I’d been whipped.

The one part I’d refused to relinquish to this hellish place he’d taken away with ten strikes. Ten strikes to make me the equivalent of cattle.

I wept bitterly, curses flowing from my lips toward the gods for what they had gifted me.

Their offering had become my curse.

Chapter 4

Deep Wounds

THALIA

“Thalia.”

My eyelids were stones of granite as they fluttered open. A groan left my lips as I shifted my arms against rock, my back raw and tight with each movement of muscle.

The floor beneath me was a sticky mess of fluids. My sweat and blood mixed together, caking onto my skin in thick, crusted layers.

Gagging, I shifted away from the puddle, a low hiss escaping my lips at the excruciating expanse of energy it took from me.

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