Page 13 of My Blood Is Yours

My throat works around a lump of emotion. His speech was undeniably inspiring. I would never wish what my mother went through upon anyone. Perhaps I should help Forsythe in this. Even if I will be plotting against him the entire time. I dare not imagine what Forsythe will do to my daemon once he’s completed his research.Or to me.

My eyes shift to the portrait of my mother on my nightstand. I was there when the picture was taken. The photographer had suggested my mother turn to the side and use her hair tocover the port-wine birthmark on her neck and cheek. She had demurely replied,“No, thank you. I quite like it. Don’t you?”And then bared her teeth in a grin that seemed to make the male’s balls shrivel.

Simply glancing at her photo imbues me with courage.

Eventually, my eyes return to Forsythe’s. His lips are pursed as he studies me with that tense gaze as though trying to look at me through a microscope.

“Aren’t you horrified? Aren’t you going to scream and beg me not to take you anywhere near the beast?”

Frightened as I may be, it isn’t the idea of being near the male I’ve been dreaming of for three too-long years. My fear stems from Forsythe alone. I need to hide my connection to my daemon and all the affection I feel for him, lest he end up brutalized, and I end up in the psych ward of the very hospital Forsythe works in.

“I’m thoroughly terrified,” I admit, in ambiguous honesty.

Forsythe’s lips purse further as though he can sense all that I omit before finally relenting. “Good. You should be. He nearly tore Evandriel’s intestines from his body with nothing more than a sweep of his claws. Managed to rip two of the bars straight out of the stone holding him in his cell.”

My mouth drops open in horror that my beloved daemon is being held in a cell like a caged animal. It takes everything in me not to lunge forward and wring Forsythe’s neck until fucking eyes bleed.

“Fear not. He is now chained to the wall.” Forsythe strides out of the room before I can deliberate whether to claw his eyes out now or later, calling back to me from the hallway.

“You have fifteen minutes to make yourself presentable.”

SARIEL

The scent of flower petals draw me from another deep, black, dreamless sleep. My head throbs, and my equilibrium whirls as I attempt to sit up. The rattling of chains has my panic surging through me, despite the drugs they’ve given me. The harder my heart pumps, the faster it pushes the toxins through my system, and clears my head. Their drugs aren’t affecting me as they did before. I may feel like I’ve taken an anvil to the head, but I can see straight. Straight enough to take in the sight of manacles clasped around my wrists and ankles. Long, thick chains—like those used to anchor a boat—shackle me to the wall. I can still move enough to stand and perhaps reach the bucket, which I’m assuming is intended for me toutilizewhen my body demands it. Thankfully, such an occurrence isn’t as frequent as a mortal's, considering I only need to eat but once every few days and consume blood just as infrequently.

Heavy bootsteps announce Evandriel’s arrival.Fuck.Before the doctor had put another bullet in my brain, I thought I’d killed him. He gives me a pleased look. “Let’s play nice today, shall we? I promise you, it’s in your best interest.”

I don’t bother to reply—can do scarcely more than breathe. She perfumes the air around me, even if I can’t see her yet, and while I am enraged that they have dragged her into this hell, I am so very selfishly breathless with anticipation at finally being able to lay my eyes on her. And angry that her first time seeing me will be in this state. They’ve taken everything from me—including themundrapedra—even the adornments from my horns, except for the gold caps and rings, which I assume they only failed to remove, along with the gold cuffs around my biceps, which are magicked in place to prevent them from constantly shifting.

My ears prick, twitching at the sound of soft footsteps. Evandriel leans closer to the bars of the cell, dropping his voice so that only I can hear him. “You came here looking for her didn’t you? That’s why you were in his house.”

Evandriel pulls something from his pocket, and my eyes widen in horror at the sight of my family’s heirloom perched between his thumb and forefinger.

“Does it have something to do with this? Is this how you got here? I can feel the magic coming off it in waves, and I know daemons weren’t gifted portal magic. Though I do know they have another gift. One that leads them to their mates. What do your people call them again?” Evandriel’s eyes light up, and he snaps his fingers. “Soulbound, no?”

Outside of the grinding of my teeth, I remain silent.

Evandriel’s voice drops to whisper. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the doctor.” A few moments later, soft footsteps—closely followed by heavier ones—echo off the stone walls. The scent of flower petals grows stronger, and despite my nightmareish circumstances, I find my cock and knot thickening at the smell of her.

I haven’t met many humans in my life. In Vassileo—where I had spent my entire existence before the realm was torn openby the Goddess of Rebirth, now the Queen of Atratus—they were exceedingly rare.

Here in Atratus, where we now reside, humans are more common. Still, my interactions with them have been scarce.

A metallic cranking noise grates my ears as Evandriel begins to turn the wheel connected to the chains of my shackles until I’m pulled closer to the wall—but not against it. I can still lift and move my arms, but my range of motion is greatly hindered. I’m left standing above a drain, just opposite the bed pallet.

My breath ceases. Finally, long, wavy brown hair, pale skin, and rosy cheeks greet me through dark eyes framed in long black lashes. Something bitter, albeit faint, spikes the air.Fear.

My voice is gravelly from disuse and roaring my rage before the doctor subdued me with another bullet.

“I will not harm you.”

Mysoulbound’sdelicate throat dips, though she doesn’t reply. Instead, her eyes dart around the cell with increasing horror.

The doctor stands behind her. “Oh good, then I can skip reminding you of the fact that if you attempt to harm her, I won’t hesitate to put another bullet in your brain. No matter how many times it insists on spitting them back out.”

As if entirely unconcerned with her own well-being, she turns to him with a horrified expression. “These living conditions are utterly inhumane.”

Forsythe only gives her a haughty look. “Well, he can hardly be considered human, now can he?”

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