Page 5 of Her Tortured Beasts

“Get the initial samples done now,” Mace Naga says in his ever so smooth, curated politician’s voice. “And then I’m sure everyone would like to go to bed.”

“Indeed,” my father drones. “You’ll have plenty of time with her tomorrow.”

I supervise as Spawn is brought forward by the basilisk lord, her beady eyes darting around at each of the new faces and what they hold in their hands.

Each beast in the room observes her every movement as if she’s a prize sow.

We all see it—the fire inside of her. Still, despite a severed mate bond. Despite being a captive and ordering her own mates not to come after her.

Lesser beasts are struck dead by a rejection of a mate bond. Strong beasts are rendered catatonic. But Spawn stares us down like a knight readying for battle.

I exhale the burning irritation through my nose.

No longer will she haunt my nightmares. No longer will I be subject to her powers, seductive or otherwise.

Ghoul shoots me a sideways glance and I swear he’s gloating under that ridiculous skeleton mask. Fucking psychopath. I thought I had it bad wrangling Savage and Scythe, but this basilisk? He will have to be watched carefully.

Two scientists hurry forward with clipboards, a set of scales, and measuring tape, muttering their plans to each other.

Spawn has the audacity to put up her hand, and sets her eyes on Mace Naga. “I want surety that mysurrender”—she glares at me—“means that my friends and mates are out of bounds. Those were the conditions.” She glances at Ghoul.

“Yes, yes,” my father says dismissively. “We have no need for the others.”

Mace levels Spawn with an unimpressed gaze. “Let go of any idea that you are some martyr, Aurelia. Comply, and I have no need to pursue your beloved friends.”

A vague statement, no doubt meant to unsettle. Sure enough, a small crease forms between her dark brows, but she turns to the scientists and nods at them as if she’s in charge here.

She’ll learn soon enough.

Height and weight are taken first, followed by a cutting of some of her dark hair, a clipping of her fingernail. She is made to sit down on a metal chair as they draw six vials of blood. They swab her mouth and cheek multiple times, for both saliva and DNA.

I can’t fucking believe my father is entertaining this.

My dragon twitches in his slumber. He’s been asleep since the bond-breaking and since I don’t have any knowledge about dragon-bonds, I can only assume he’s recovering from the shock of it and will come to when he is ready.

Spawn shifts in the chair, squeezing her knees together like she needs to pee. I won’t have her urinating on my floor.

“That’s enough,” I command.

The serpent about to take fingerprints from Spawn jumps a foot into the air. Ghoul and Mace turn to look at me. The barest hint of a frown forms on Mace’s pallid face, and it satisfies me to no end.

I wave a dismissive hand at the reptiles. “You’re done.”

They all bow and begin backing away, leaving Spawn rigid, clutching the sides of the chair.

My father turns to me, clasping me by the shoulder, and I don’t ever think I’ll get used to this feeling. “I took the liberty of having this made for you, my heir.” The faint chink of gold sounds as he raises his other hand. I blink at the gold collar and chain for a singular moment of confusion before my instincts kick in and I reach for them.

My steps are automatic as I stride towards Spawn, and before she can complain, as she no doubt will, I sweep her tangled mane of black hair aside and clasp the golden collar around her neck, securing it with my power so it seals shut without a seam. A dragon-lock.

It makes no physical sound at all, but there’s an air of finality around us like the resounding thud of the final nail in a coffin.

I hold the other end of the chain in a tight fist.

Spawn’s face, upturned and pale, fixes her heinous gaze upon me. Not her, butIt, I realise.

“What is this?” Ghoul asks, flicking at the 24-carat dragon-enforced chain with a gloved finger.

“She ismycaptive,” I say, tugging on the chain.

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