Page 14 of Taken By The Dark Three
“Minds are infinitely more interesting than any body part,” I say, ignoring her jab. My voice lowers as I brush the slightest hint of psionic energy across her aura. “I learned that the first time I tore open a captive’s secrets. It was more satisfying than any physical conquest. But your mind is… elusive. That’s a rarity in Orthani.”
She shifts, rattling the chains overhead. Her eyes flash with something more than fear—fury, possibly, but also a spark that might be grudging fascination. “Perhaps you’re used to powerless humans who break at a hint of your magic. I’m not that.”
I grin. “I noticed. And that’s why I insisted you be given to me for further study.”
She exhales, a sound caught between outrage and reluctant intrigue. “Study, is that what you call it?”
I lift a slender metal band from the table. It’s etched with swirling glyphs that amplify mental energies. “Yes. I want to know exactly what strength you possess. Commander Vaelith sees you as a tool to serve Orthani. I see you as something far more… intriguing.”
Her mouth sets in a line. “Then you’ll be disappointed when I show no interest in serving anyone, especially not you.”
I take a step forward, holding the metal band near her temple. “Let’s not lie to each other. We both know the ultimatum that was forced on you. Serve, or die. Perhaps that means you’ll posture until you can wriggle free, but you still stand within these chains.”
She meets my gaze, unwavering. “I stand here only because I haven’t found a way to break them yet. Trust me, that day will come.”
Heat flares in my chest, stoked by the force in her threat. Goddess, how exhilarating. She’s a phoenix caged by steel, ready to burn if she finds the slightest crack. I slip the metal band over her head, feeling the subtle shift in psionic flow as the glyphs make contact with her scalp. It’s not a collar that chokes her physically, but it will allow me to sense her mental presence more acutely, like shining a light into a dim corridor.
Her eyelids flutter for a moment when the band settles. She stifles a sharp inhale. I sense her immediate attempt to reinforce her mental barriers, walls of determination slamming into place. My lips part in appreciation. She is cunning. She’s fought enough mental assaults to know how to lock her mind down. I exhale, letting my psionic energy seep out like tendrils seeking cracks in stone.
She stiffens, a pained furrow appearing between her brows. “Stay out,” she manages. The chains overhead jostle when she jerks her arms, as though the mere thought of me crawling inside her mind disgusts her. Good. That keeps the tension high, exactly as I prefer.
I let the energy swirl around her thoughts, feeling the first hint of friction. Her mind bristles with a storm of defiance, fierce and protective. She’s learned how to shape her mental presence into a fortress ringed with sharpened spikes. I push gently, andthose spikes push back, sending small jabs that make my head throb. Intriguing.
A low groan escapes her lips. “Stop it.”
I tilt my head, watching the lines of strain flit across her face. “Beg me.”
Her eyes blaze open. “Never.”
A wave of savage delight surges through me. She’s truly captivating. I ease off for a heartbeat, letting her think I’m retreating, then I press forward again with a sharper thrust. My mental presence needles at her defenses, searching for a gap. Sweat beads along her temple. She bites down on her lip, refusing to cry out. The longer I pry, the more my own temples pound. She’s forcing me to exert more power than I expected. She’s no simple purna.
At last, I withdraw enough to stop the immediate clash. She exhales in relief, her body trembling faintly. I lick the taste of her resilience off my lips. My mind thrums with excitement. Her tenacity is delicious.
She blinks, gathering the ragged scraps of composure. “Felt good, did it? Playing with my mind. Another notch in your belt?”
I set my hand on the side of her throat, feeling the thunder of her pulse. It throbs against my palm, a bold reminder she’s very much alive and not some docile puppet. “I don’t consider you a notch. You’re far too rare a specimen to be reduced to that.”
She tries to jerk away, but the chain above halts the attempt. Still, the angle of her jaw is pure defiance. “Specimen. Gods, you’re disgusting. Your city’s no better, draining magic from anyone weaker.”
My grip on her throat tightens slightly. “Have a care, purna. Weakness is a choice in Orthani. We overcame our subterranean oppression generations ago, and we’ll do whatever it takes to remain free. If that means harnessing the power of renegade witches, so be it.”
“Renegade witches,” she repeats, voice dripping acid. “You can label me however you like. In the end, you’ll never truly own me.”
My pulse races with a mix of annoyance and fascination. She wields her voice like a blade, forcing me to confront the rawness of her refusal. I’m tempted to break that refusal, hear her gasp when she finally buckles. Another part revels in the idea that she might never break, that we’ll spin in this endless circle of tension. I suspect only time will tell.
I lower my hand from her throat, trailing fingers across her collarbones. Her skin warms beneath my touch, and a faint spark of energy crackles along my fingertips. She’s so charged, her entire body a nexus of pent-up magic and ire.
My voice dips. “Fighting me is thrilling, but you might find it simpler to yield. I could show you pleasure beyond mortal ken if you let me slip deeper into your mind.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Your version of pleasure? I’ve felt the sting of your dungeons, your rods of torment. Forgive me if I’m not desperate to see what else you consider a treat.”
I grin, unperturbed. “Pleasure, pain. They’re closer companions than most realize.” I drag a chair over from the corner, setting it beside the dais. Then I sit, crossing one leg over the other, regarding her as if she’s the rarest find in an exotic market. “I suspect you know exactly how to wield both, though. Otherwise, your mental wards wouldn’t be so… potent.”
She doesn’t answer. I sense a flicker of curiosity behind her eyes, swiftly masked. My magic continues to hum around us, weaving a fragile net that could close in at any moment if I push too hard. But I prefer a slow approach, unraveling her bit by bit.
“You’ve tasted pain at Orthani’s hand,” I say, letting a purr slip into my voice. “What if I offered you a different path? A chance to harness your gift under my guidance. Together,we could accomplish feats that would make these council sycophants quiver.”
She looks at me, suspicion heavy in her gaze. “You want me as your puppet. Don’t dress it up as something else.”
