Page 172 of Fated or Knot

“Shh. Listen.” Rennyn cupped his pointed ear. The distinct sound of a female hacking up her lungs came from the interrogation room he’d just left. “That, well-endowed one, is Cymora of Osme Fen receiving the latest dose of what she deserves. She told us about you, you know. You and your brothers.”

Floris drew breath to speak, then apparently thought better of it, as he released it in a huff. I shifted impatiently, simmering with aggression.Too many words.We didn’t need to apply intimidation. Just agony.

“The murderer suffers a slow death as her body fails her with illness, a fate she once inflicted on an innocent female. What shall we do to you, hmm?” Rennyn mused.

“Nothing,” Floris practically shouted. “I didn’tdoanything!”

Fal sneered down at him. “Shall we list his crimes for him, then?”

“Sure,” Rennyn agreed. “The illegal breeding contract, for one.”

“She signed it herself?—”

Tired of hearing his voice, I backhanded his other cheek. The splinters were worth it.

“She signed it while compelled under a silencing band,” I snarled.

“Which you and your brothers knew about, and intended to use so she couldn’t escape you. You had a deal with Cymora. She was going to hand you the band’s key after you took Lark into your pack,” Fal added through gritted teeth.

The barkfolk went silent, eyes widening. Gawping.Stupid. Put him out of his misery,snarled my feral side.

I met Fal’s gaze with a questioning tilt of my head, and he nodded back grimly.What the fuck.Yet another thing I’d missed by losing my shit and leaving her interrogation early. I wastempted to return to the forest and take a torch to every tree until the other two bark brothers had nowhere to hide from me.

“You came here intending to rape her, body and soul.” Rennyn was the coolest head amongst us, regarding the Seelie with that cruel twist to his mouth. He tilted his head with a condescending hum. “You are not the first, nor last, idiot to think you can walk into my domain and force a bond on one of my daughters. Do you long for the sweet embrace of death, Floris of Osme Fen?”

The male in question trembled, just a little. His eyes darted around while the king waited expectantly. “N-no?—”

“You’re about to,” Rennyn said overtop him. He jerked his head toward the next interrogation room and switched to speaking Serian. “That one’s open. Do leave him alive, boys. You’ll have help wringing information out of him tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Father,” Fal said tightly. The two of us hustled the barkfolk along before anything else could get in our way.

The seriousness of the situation seemed to finally be sinking in, as Floris tried negotiating while we tied him to the chair. I let Niall have more control so the pleading was simply background noise while I worked. I pulled the rope as I made the final knot so it was as tight and chafing as possible.

This room was identical to the first, with rusting torture implements lining the walls. Fal, who had been privy to only a few sessions in rooms such as this, turned to me for direction. I had him wait for a moment. Over the pack bond, I sensed he was in the same state as I was. Ready to let his alpha instincts out rather than talk and reason like he usually did.

Maybe after this, he’d understand how satisfying it was to defeat an enemy by force rather than leave them humiliated but otherwise unscathed from witty wordplay.

There was the tool I was looking for. I took the pair of pliers off its hook and worked it open and closed a couple times. It was stiff with age and disrepair, but it would do the job.

Floris saw me coming with a flash of dull metal in my grip and tugged fruitlessly on his restraints, saying something I didn’t care to listen to about an “agreement.” Behind him, Fal waited, his cat eyes gleaming expectantly.

“Hold his mouth open,” I directed.

The barkfolk immediately tried to shut his jaws, but Fal pulled them open for me. The dark elf smiled with vicious delight when I clamped the pliers around one of Floris’s fangs. He tried to jerk away, but I caught his jaw and relished in the fear reflected in his eyes.

“If, by some miracle, you leave this room alive,” I said in a smoky feral voice. “You willneverhave a chance to claim my mate.”

48

LARK

Ispent the next two days exploring Once Else with Kauz and Tormund, interspersed by wing painting sessions. The latter male stayed and became a part of my date time with Kauz, since we weren’t sure whether or not my heat would arrive ahead of schedule. The cramps were back, and I wore heat pads to do something about the sheer amount of slick I produced even without any stimulation.

Both my mates agreed that it was time to stop having sex for now, as the heat suppressant tattoo was unraveling on its own. Only a couple decorative loops were left. I had days before it overcame me, or one good knotting, which I craved despite my best intentions.

The wing painting sessions were the biggest source of sexual frustration I had. I laid in different positions while Tormund held my neck just tight enough to trigger my omega instincts into submitting. It was the only way to get my wings still for the extended period of time necessary for Kauz to work his magic to make the drying ink set permanently. But my body reacted to the hold by making me extra wet.

My gentle giant smelled it no matter what and tented his pants, but ignored his need and gritted his teeth while I made the occasional whimper and whine to be touched intimately. He purred to soothe me and fed me dinner and dessert one morsel at a time. For the most part, he kept my head cushioned comfortably against his belly or thigh.

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