Page 32 of Seized to Sacrifice
‘Do you know of a way?
Thorne hesitated. His eyes falling on an old tome in the corner of the library. ‘I might. It could be a roundabout process though. Nothing’s ever simple with that one.’
Rye shrugged. ‘If she gives us what we want, it matters little.’
‘What of our revenge?’ asked Thorne.
‘We’ll still have it, Brother, but instead of putting her to work, we’ll think of something else. Why hasn'thecome for her do you think?’
Thorne frowned. ‘What doeshehave to do with anything?’
‘Just a feeling.’
Thorne’s chuckle was brittle. ‘Maybe she banished him as she banished us.’
‘Or perhaps he’s looking for her.’ Rye’s lip curled. ‘Mayhap we send him a message through the breach when it next opens. He’s a well-known figure in the Dark Realms these days, or so I hear. That would give her a nasty surprise, but we don't tell Nyx about this. Not yet.’
‘Do you think he'll warn her?’ Thorne asked.
‘In truth I don't know. He seems taken with her. He feels a pull to her.’
Thone raised a brow. ‘As we all do, Brother. I might have a bit of fun with her in her pretty human body before we give her memories back. Maybe I’ll go and see what she and Nyx are up to in his bed chamber.’
Rye gave Thorne a look of warning. ‘Don't forget what she did to us.’
‘I won’t. I doubt Nyx has succumbed at any rate.’
Rye rolled his eyes. ‘It’s only a matter of time, Brother. Remember how long he's been without.’
‘Poor bastard,’ Thorne said under his breath. ‘He never truly got over her.’
Had any of them?
Rye left the room. He wanted to be alone to think. He wasn't sure what they should do. His need for revenge was now as ingrained into him as being a fae was.
He’d lived with it for so long. It had been ages since he'd given in to his darker impulses, but he would with her. He vowed he would make her beg for mercy and then destroy her anyway.
* * *
Thorne
He watched Ryder leave and,as soon as the door closed, he let out a breath. Standing up, he began to pace. He didn't think that Ryder had noticed how close the Beast was to the surface. He looked down at his hands. Black claws.
He grimaced and made a fist, driving them deep into his palm. Letting the pain ground him in himself.
‘You're not getting out,’ he seethed. ‘I won't let you break free.’
He hoped that Ryder was right and that if they got Elle back her memory, she’d grant each of them a favor. He knew what he would ask for. He wanted the Beast gone. He was sick of having to be in control of himself all the time. The darker half of his soul was getting stronger, and it was taking all of Thorne’s energy to keep him in his cage.
He didn’t remember the havoc that the Beast had caused before their time in the rings of Kitore though he’d heard about it all second-hand from Rye and Nyx. He recalled nothing of his rampages, but he'd slaughtered dozens. Hundreds, perhaps.
Parents still told stories of him to their children to frighten them. The Beast of Kitore would get them if they were naughty. If they went outside at night, the Beast of Kitore would come.
He dragged out an old tome from the corner shelf, the only copy of it in existence and the only book that ever mentioned her by name.
This was her fault. He'd had complete control over the Beast until she came. She was probably doing it on purpose – part of her little game, the bitch.
He was glad he'd been putting her in the cellars. The kitchen work was much too good for her. That had been his personal punishment for her. She hated the darkness, the cold, the damp. She’d confided it to him once. The others only knew because he’d told them.
