Page 53 of Chained to the Devil's Daughter

“Lean forward.”

I did. Her loving hands never stuttered. She paid each crevice special attention, the caress of her hands soothing to the mottled skin that had long since healed but would forever live on as my shame.

“You asked what’s on my mind,” she said, her voice a whisper against the fortress of my dark heart. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“These scars. They’re from more than just the overseers.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t have to ask the question her statement implied. I hadn’t told her my side, opting to let the rumor mill do its job. She’d let me keep my silence until now. I’d told myself it was to shield her from the misplaced guilt she would feel, but that was another example of my fucked-up ego. Even with Kien and the others’ reluctant camaraderie, acknowledging the evil deeds I committed to keep my selfish ass alive felt dangerous. Like I’d be admitting why my own magic had turned on me, judging my soul as empty as the void. I’d refused to forfeit my own life to save another. The definition of evil.

I tried to find my voice, but it hid in my diaphragm.

“It’s okay,” she soothed. “You can tell me when you’re ready.”

Selfish fucking bastard. She deserved to know what kind of monster had wrecked her kingdom to reach her. What kind of evil she’d invited in her bed, had likely planted babies in her womb by now.

“They would get bored. At first, it was rare. Once I won a few times, they got more interested. Then it was every few weeks.”My jaw clenched around the words, my body trying to lock them in.

“They made you fight each other.”

I nodded. Behind closed lids, I saw their faces. It was too much, so I opened them and stared at the other end of the tub, where bubbles had clustered along the edges. “It was sport to them. They’d been forcing prisoners to fight, taking bets on the winners for a long time, it seemed. But I’m stronger than them.”

She took a ragged breath I probably wasn’t meant to hear. I couldn’t bring myself to meet her gaze.

“I had something to live for.” The words came out defensive, vehement. I shook my head, glaring down at my fists. Instruments of a killer. “So did they.”

Searra was quiet. Her hands hadn’t stilled their soothing ministrations, their soft sensation the only thing tethering me to reality.

“The first time. . . The first time, they picked a man I’d been friendly with. I told them he’d had enough. But the guards, they. . . They wanted blood.” I didn’t have to close my eyes to visualize dead emerald pools staring up at me, so similar to a pair I now sparred with daily. “So they took mine. Within an inch of my life. Because I wouldn’t kill him. When they were done with me, they moved on to him. It was brutal. Anything but swift. He was kind to me, and I got him killed.”

I took a deep, ragged breath. Searra’s hands sifted through my hair, putting light pressure on my temples. Rings, I didn’t deserve her. Not after what I was about to admit.

“From then on, I played along. I did what I must. To stay alive.” I sighed. “Whenever I tried to be lenient, the guards were happy to remind me. They were unafraid of causing unnecessary pain. Fucking reveled in it, I think.”

“You granted them mercy.”

“Death is not mercy.”

She was silent. Her hands had finally stilled. Suddenly heavy, my head dropped back onto her leg. I braved a glance at her face, which was full of compassion.

“You survived,” she urged. “And now we are together.”

“My soul be damned, I would do it all again.”

She embraced me from behind, clasping her hands around my chest, elbow-deep in the water. Even upside-down, her kiss was full of all the warm, happy feelings I knew in my bones I didn’t deserve, least of all from her.

“I would have done the same,” she murmured against my lips. “I would become whatever monster I had to, to see you returned to me.”

“Am I a monster?”

“Whatever you are, you are mine. I won’t ever let you go again.” Her hands dipped low in the water, trailing down my abdomen. My cock twitched to attention, uncaring of the trauma-dump that just occurred.

“I’m yours,” I breathed as her long nails traced each muscle, growing closer and closer to the swelling bulb of my need. “You are mine.”

“Yours. Always.”

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