Page 143 of A Debt of Darkness

My stomach does little better, but my nerves fire another warning shot, aware Rowan’s temper is more than a cause for concern. He’s unpredictable, violent and vicious enough to make it hurt. Really fucking hurt. Irrational too, and angry men do dangerous things. Things they might regret later if they had a conscience, and my instincts tell me Rowan’s lacking one.

The cage slows and the grey blurs solidify as my head keeps spinning. My mind’s whirling, filled with dread and the terror of a thousand possibilities outside of my hands. I have no control, no power, and my fate is in the hands of two despicable beings. Equally powerful. Equally horrific. But maybe, just maybe, not evenly matched.

The chance of dividing them is slim, but my eyes latch onto Marcus’s and I see the spark of irritation in them. He’s annoyed and not with me. His authority’s been underminedand he’s fucking unamused.

“We’ve met before, darling,” Rowan continues.

I slowly turn my attention to him, drawing out the process in the hope of riling Marcus. I’ve ignored and dismissed the more controlled vampire, and that ought to stoke the scorn and derision I’m trying to sow. It’s risky, fucking risky, but I’ve got little choice and even less time.

And the seconds keep ticking away, moving against me as Rowan runs his sharpened nail over the metal bars barely separating us. There’s nothing keeping me safe and little holding me secure, but that’s the fucking point of this. This is the psychological softening he thinks will weaken me and the fucker’s about to learn I’m not easy to break.

“Of course.”

Rowan’s eyes flash with rage as I dismiss him like he’s a fucking inconvenience.

“Your manners haven’t improved.”

I sigh. “Neither have yours.”

One vampire growls, snarling with the ferocity of an apex predator, while the other crosses his arms and looks on, amused. Marcus is content to let this play out for now, letting me do the work of undermining the other coven leader for him.

“Should we remove that fucking collar?” Rowan asks.

Marcus drops his head, exasperated. “It might sever her connection with Henry, and we don’t want that, do we?”

I shrug and rest my weight back, turning my head between them slowly, as if I can’t decide who’s actually in charge.

“I thought you said she wasn’t stupid.” Rowan pushes the cage again and I spin around, dangerously dizzy when we stop spinning.

“She’s not,” Marcus says, stepping behind him. “She’s playing you like a fucking fiddle.”

Rowan hisses and I stop counting points. I’m up by enough to have won this round and now we’re moving to a different phase in this game. The nastier one. The one that hurts and does damage that might not heal. The wounds that scar and mark me as a survivor, if I make it through this ordeal.

I’ll never be the same, but tonight won’t be what defines me.

Even if it ends here.

Even if it ends now.

His eyes darken and their red turns into maroon, heralding the start I’ve been dreading. Rowan prowls as he stalks closer, drawing every excruciating second out before he’s standing so close his breath licks my skin and makes it crawl.

His nail screeches as it scrapes the metal and the sound is a stab to my heart, designed to wound. My heart pounds against my chest, fighting to escape the confines of its cage while I struggle in one of my own. Neither of us can free ourselves from the inevitable and I catch a final breath of my own.

Rowan’s eyes flash a warning of excitement as he moves too fast to process, grabbing my ankle and yanking it out of the cage. I was mistaken to fear being contained by the metal bars, aware of exactly how fucking vulnerable I am now my leg dangles like dead weight, unable to free itself from Rowan’s hold.

My eyes stare back and I watch his nail pull slowly from the metal cage and scrape down my thigh, barely drawing blood but threatening much more.

“You know what happens next, right?” he asks, mocking me as his tongue flicks between his lowered fangs.

“You’re going to make it hurt,” I say, forcing a smile that sickens my stomach. “You’re going to take me apart piece by piece, and you’re going to enjoy it.”

His grin turns into a sneer, and the tip of his tongue traces the point of his teeth. I stare along my leg, following the burning line of heat left from the first wound. I’m easily handling this pain, without too much fucking effort. Rowan knows it, I know he knows it, and we both know this is just beginning.

“And you’ll still be a graceless cunt at the end of it.”

His claws pierce the top of my thigh and he drags them down, separating muscle fibers as they sink deep enough to make me scream. I can’t escape the agony and I arch my back, writhing as Rowan delights in inflicting a wound I’ll carry for the rest of my life.

Thick, warm trickles of blood tickles ooze as they seep out my leg and sweat pours out my skin. I’m panting, trying to cling to reality as pain and fear become the only things I know. The only things I feel. And I won’t give in to either of them.

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