Page 59 of Her Tortured Beasts

It takes everything in me to keep a straight, stone-like expression, because the only thing worse than being naked in this place is being naked and clearly distraught.

Is it worse than being dragged up the aisle in my shark form, suffocating in long miserable seconds? I can’t even say. Every bad thing that’s happened during my stay at Drakos Estate has blended together in one giant mass of tar, sitting at the bottom of my gut, trying to pull me under.

My anima hides her face under her wing, whining in pain at the memory of our ex-mate burning our new, thicker collar onto our skin. Since his wedding, Xander has been even quieter than before, his power not pulsing, butthrashing. It feels like it would only take one small push and he’d burn everyone to high hell.

We walk on the edge of a knife, he and I.

So many things in common.

But it’s made him a prickly, nasty thing. And clearly murderous, judging by that display outside. A young serpent had died because he and a few others had kidnapped me. Had been about to start torturing me, too, if it weren’t for the nasty dragon that came in and killed all of them except Natalia, whom they’d then spent days torturing until I’d called Ghoul and organised her escape.

The fact that Xander was rubbing it in his father’s face showed just how far gone he was. Just how different he was from the the dream I’d seen: the boy who’d seen his mating group mark for the first time and jumped for joy.

I try to keep in Xander’s shadow as we walk in, but it looks like we’re the last to the table, so everyone sees us. My one saving grace in this situation is Eugene, protected and invisible in a shield bubble of mine. He sticks close to my ankles, his silken feathers brushing the side of my leg to let me know that he’s here with me. That I’m not alone and there is one person on my side.

Drinks are already being poured in the main room, where tables have been pushed together to make a bigger one.

There is only one seat left.

And there is also a person missing from this criminal underworld meeting. Only one of my mates is here—Ghoul stalks behind me, simmering with excited energy. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that nasty thing is looking forward to this.

Scythe is the only crime lord of the state not present, and I’m guessing it’s from a lack of invitation.

Though my anima whines, I’m glad my great white shark, wolf and lion are not here. It would be a greater torture for them to see me like this and not be able to do anything.

As Xander takes the final seat, I take my mark from the other attendants and stand next to Xander’s chair, using the tall back of it to cover as much of my body as possible. Even then, it doesn’t stop the leering. Each crime lord has three to four guards standing behind them, all massive don’t-mess-with-me type animuses. Xander is the only lord with no retinue.

One of the two other animas in the room catches my eye with a smirk.

“Property of Drakos Estate,” drawls the Collector, looking fashionable in a twenties bowl hat and off-the-shoulder black dress. She holds her cigarette so delicately between the fingers of her propped-up hand. “Well, well, well. That collar looks like it chafes, Lady Boneweaver.”

Amused chuckles surround me and I try to meet them eye to eye, I really do. But it’s so fucking hard when I’m being put in this humiliating position. Heat floods my cheeks and the backs of my eyes burn as they laugh at me and my naked body.

Damn Xander Drakos. Damn Flores Drakos and his whole fucking lineage. Someone on the far left of the table shifts and a glint of metal catches my eye. When I see who it is, I stare.

And stare again.

Because sitting next to his father, Tiberius Clawson, is Minnie’s ex-mate, the dark-haired, black-eyed brute called Titus. And they weren’t kidding when they said I’d broken his jaw when he’d held me captive in his mouth that one time. Hehasno lower jaw now, not one made of flesh, anyway. It’s been replaced with some ingenious avian healing craft made purely of steel, including his lower teeth.

The overall effect is terrifying.

“Fetch me a glass, Spawn,” Xander says, his voice strangely low. “Double whiskey. Neat.”

The breath freezes in my lungs as Xander flicks his wrist, separating me from my leash. Suddenly, I’m left cold and bereft as everyone watches me with great interest. I raise my chin and finally work up the courage to lower my arms from my tits as I walk towards the bar all the way at the other side of the table. Somebody audibly smacks their lips, and another noticeably adjusts himself in his seat, but I put on my best resting bitch face and ignore them, keeping my eyes on the whiskey glass and bottle I need. The only thing keeping me from bursting into tears is Eugene’s warm presence at my calf. He pecks me once, to let me know we have to concentrate. I listen to him, knowing this is sage advice.

It’s not until I’ve poured the drink and turned back around that I see Ghoul casually stalking past Titus. The basilisk sneers, “I like the cyborg look.” Quick as an adder, he gives the gleaming metal a little flick with his fingers. The metalpingslike a bell.

Titus reacts instantly, shoving back his chair and lunging at the basilisk with a snarl. Tiberius and the feline on the other side of Titus grab him, holding him back as Ghoul hisses, flashing his fangs before cackling with mirth.

Lady Hyena thumps her black cane on the ground in a way that tells me it’s heavier than it looks and metal at the base. “If we’re all quite done, shall we begin?”

Everyone settles down, with Titus shoving off his father and sitting back in his chair. I let out a slow breath as I set Xander’s glass on a coaster on the table and he flicks his wrist to chain me up again.

“Start with our great white shark issue,” the Collector says, wineglass in hand, cigarette dangling between those same fingers. “What are we going to do about that, Your Majesty?”

All eyes move to the serpent king, whose gaze I’ve been avoiding this entire time. His presence is like a shadowy cloud—thatcouldbe Ghoul’s shadows snaking around him where he guards to the right of the king’s chair, but my father has his own sort of corrupt darkness that eats at the very air. I also know he enjoys the fact that the table will be hanging onto his every word.

“It will be taken care of,” Mace says. “Tiberius and I will be working on a solution that I will not state here.” His eyes flick to mine, the implication clear. I could snitch on any plans laid out in this room.

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