Page 17 of Her Tortured Beasts

“Yes, but not everything we do herewillbe voluntary.” Damien says it so quickly, so casually, that it sends a chill down my spine. “She will be more compliant given the threat to these small creatures.”

Suddenly, I see the males around me in a different light. Nothing they do to me here is an ‘option’ any more.

Swallowing, I lie back down on the table and arrange the towel to cover the space between my legs. I pull my dress up, exposing my lower abdomen. “Make it quick,” I grit out.

“It is just to check the condition of your ovaries and uterus so we can?—”

“I know exactly what you’re doing,” I snap. “As I said, make it quick.”

Damien steps up so he can get a better look, and all I can do is stare at the ceiling as I try to calm my breathing.

Everyone leans forward to stare at the screen of the ultrasound machine, as if they’re all so very keen to take a look at my insides. Nausea roils in my stomach and I clutch the sides of the steel table so hard it becomes sweaty under my palms.

Solomon presses firmly just inside my right hip bone. “How many times did you do this to my mother?” I ask to the ceiling. “How many times before she became unresponsive?”

From the side of my eye, the scientists move uncomfortably. Someone clears their throat. There are no women in this room. Only males, only animuses. I wonder if she was scared. If she knew what the future had in store for her and her daughter.

“Try to relax,” Solomon gruffs. “You are thankfully young. There should be no issues with our work.”

“Unethical work,” I say. “Illegal work.”

“Voluntary work,” Ghoul says. “Important work.”

I glance at him, where he looms over me from my left. He never knew about my mother’s imprisonment, but that doesn’t matter, because he’s here overseeing mine now. I hope he can see the death in my eyes. I hope he can see that I will kill my father for all of this.

Chapter 10

Xander

Enter Sandman — Metallica

After that complete farce of a scientific research study that lasted all day, I’m in a foul mood. Made fouler still by the fact that I had to watch Ghoul fondle Spawn the entire time.

It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever seen. Now, it’s thankfully quiet as I tug it along behind me and up to the ground floor, probably moping over the miniature fluffballs trapped in Damien’s cage.

Nimpins are utterly useless creatures. Barely a mouthful of bones that would probably come up as a hairball anyway. I don’t know why Lyle even bothered with them to start with. The animas just treated them like Tamagotchis, and the animuses were undeterred by them. Complete idiocy, if you ask me.

Drakos Estate is expecting guests this evening. It’s the biggest event of the season and my much-anticipated debut back into dragon society. Dragons are flying in from other states, even some from overseas, for the sole reason of greeting me, and I’m not going to have any of these worms screw it up formy family. I’ve ordered them to stay underground until sunrise and threatened them with a crispy hanging. The scientists are all keen to study the samples and data they’ve gathered just now anyway, so I’m certain they’ll stay put. Mace Naga has also, unsurprisingly, made himself scarce. No doubt he’s worried about some retaliation from Savage and Lyle and is securing his closest family members. Savage enjoys taking hostages on a good day, and he no doubt has his eye on Charlotte Naga and her remaining mate as his first victims. I don’t think the Spawn knows about her Uncle Ben’s death and I’m not going to be the one to tell her.

I rub the back of my neck in irritation as I check in with my dragon. Still. He’s completely still except for the slow and steady breathing inflating his ribs. He looks exactly the same, and no matter how much I prod him, he doesn’t make so much as a snort.

Further irritation claws at my gut. I can’t even fly to release any pent-up rage.

The chain linked to the bangle on my wrist tugs violently. I throw a glance over my shoulder in time to see Spawn stumble and right itself.

“Too fast,” it mutters.

I continue walking as if it hadn’t spoken, exhaling through my nose. I need to focus on this afternoon. My family’s reputation relies on everything going perfectly.

We reach my father’s study high on the topmost floor, inside one of the turrets overlooking the front lawn. Just by turning his head, he can see who enters via the main gates. It’s why I’d always entered from the north whenever I’d paid secret visits to my sister and the hatchlings.

He sits at his desk of mountain ash, facing the door, his head bowed over the moleskin folder of anima biodata. Though heno doubt heard me approach from the base of the stairwell, I respectfully rap my knuckles on the open door.

“My heir,” he says, eyes flicking up. “Come and sit.”

I stride in, quickly taking the gold and red velvet chair opposite the desk. Spawn stands awkwardly beside me. It’s a wonder no one ever taught it manners.

Without taking my eyes off my father, I tug on the chain and snap, “Kneel.”

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