Page 8 of Seized to Sacrifice
Rye
Where the fuckhad she got a blanket from? Rye rolled his eyes. That was Nyx through and through. He played the cunt well, but he’d always had a heart that belied his true form.
Perhaps Nyx’s kindness could be used to Rye’s advantage though. Giving her comforts only to take them from her when he felt like it would make her miserable, especially when they really began to make her suffer. He’d reduce her to a puling animal, begging them for everything from food and water to light and the warmth of a fire.
He grinned. It was also time to find out if she healed as well as she used to. He hoped she did … but not too quickly. He wanted her to feel every flick of the knife on her flesh, every blistering burn.
He unlocked her small prison. She didn’t move.
‘Get up,’ he snarled.
Nothing.
Annoyed that she didn’t seem to fear him at all, he stalked across the cell and took her by the shoulder. He shook her hard and tore off her blanket, throwing it down at his feet. ‘I said, get up!’
She didn’t rouse and he frowned. ‘Stop this pretense.’
But as his fingers brushed her skin, he felt the heat radiating from her. Against his better judgement, he felt her forehead and cursed. It was hot and clammy though she was shivering violently.
Truly ill? How was this possible? Could he have been wrong?
No, he was sure it was her, but clearly, she wasn’t the same.
Backing out of the cell, he relocked it and went back upstairs to the kitchens to find what he needed to break her fever. A captive too insensible to be punished by her torments was not the sweet revenge he had planned.
He’d have to use magick. He only hoped he had enough after the circle he’d cast in the forest. That had been days ago, and yet his meager reserves hadn’t even begun to replenish themselves. Was he even a fae anymore if he couldn’t perform the simplest conjures?
The staff bustled around him as he collected the herbs he needed. They ignored his presence for the most part as they were used to seeing him here. He noticed Leia making eyes at him from the scullery, silently inviting him to take her to his chambers, but he ignored her. Any other day, he’d be inclined to take her up on it, even knowing that she was likely trying to get out of her real duties, but he didn’t have time for her flirtations at the moment.
He went to his workroom, ignoring the thick layer of dust that covered everything. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d last been in here, but it must have been many months. He wiped a bowl clean and began to throw the herbs he’d collected together, adding a few drops of various essences from the vials on his shelves until he had a thick, sludgy, cowpat-looking poultice. He wrapped it in cheesecloth and went back down into the dungeons.
She was exactly where he’d left her, pale and shuddering on the stone slab. Guilt gnawed at him when he noticed he’d not even bothered to re-cover her with the blanket, but he shook off the sensation. How was he going to hurt her if he didn’t even enjoy the suffering that hehadn’tinflicted?
In darker days in this very realm, he’d been known for his skills and his calculating nature when it came to pain and cruelty. Now, look at him. Pathetic. He wasn’t here to make her comfortable, only to keep her alive in case she really could die as that would put her far from their reach.
He lay the poultice on her chest, and said the words of the conjure, hoping he had enough for the magick to take.
The poultice began to smoke, and he let it, watching the vapors enter her nose and mouth until it had completely disappeared and all that was left was the cloth he’d wrapped it in.
Feeling her forehead again, he found that it was already cooling. The conjure had worked. He went back to the cell door and hesitated. With a whispered curse, he retrieved the blanket from the ground and draped it over her shivering body.
He was just keeping her alive so that he could watch the hope in her eyes die, he told himself as he went to his chamber to rest after the exertions of his magick.
CHAPTER2
THORNE
He sat in cross-legged silence in his chamber in the middle of a circle of salt. The door was locked, and he’d put a heavy chair in front of it for good measure.
His eyes were closed as he concentrated on the mental bonds around the darkness in his mind where the Beast resided. Gods only knew if it was helping. He couldn't feel the Beast but that meant nothing. There was never any warning. He could shift at this very moment and not realize it had happened until he woke and found himself in the midst of the carnage the Beast had caused, or, as with what had happened the other day, losing half a day or more with no recollections of what had happened during the lost time.
He got up and began to pace around the circle. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't let the madness in. He ran his fingers through his hair and then rested his head in his hands.
What if the next time he woke up drenched in blood and everyone in the keep was dead? His Brothers would survive, but only because they’d eventually come back.
What if it didn't stop there? What if they couldn't subdue him? What if he escaped the keep and began ravaging the villages, killing every human he saw until they caught him again and made him fight.
He gave a mirthless chuckle. How long would it take them this time to understand that they couldn't kill him?
