Page 43 of Scarred Sacrifice
He leans in, his face close to mine. “You don’t know shit. I’m doing this for your own fucking safety,” he growls.
I cough out a laugh as his hold on my throat still restricts the flow. “You didn’t pass English, did you? You may want to look up the word ‘safety’ in a dictionary, because chaining women to a wall in a cell in some sex offender’s house isn’t very fucking safe!” I bite back.
“Will you fucking shut up and listen? Just trust me. I will make sure you are okay,” he seethes.
“Pfft, how are you going to do that? Sell me to an old rich man that will only have the energy to rape me once a week?” I ask sarcastically.
Nyx lets go of my neck and slams his fist into the wall next to my head. “Fuck, you infuriate me,” he growls.
I take in deep breaths, while smiling that I’m getting under his skin. Good, that way he is more likely to make a mistake.
He runs his hand through his hair. “Just don’t tell him anything. I will get you out of here,” he breathes before walking out. I believe what he says about as much as I believe in Santa fucking Clause.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MORRIGAN
“I must say,your strong will is almost impressive,” Henry pants as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. My cheek feels like its busted, my right eye is closing, and my back feels like it’s on fire. I almost applaud him for still using a whip to torture people. Very retro.
I hang my head low, unable to support my weight anymore. The metal cuffs on my wrists are holding me up, and I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. I haven’t seen Nyx, which just proves he is full of fucking shit.
Henry walks in front of me and grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back and forcing me to look at him. “Now that you’re subdued, I should bend you over and fuck you. It’s something I haven’t stopped thinking about. I think it would be the final thing to make you break. To cave before me, to submit. It could be the only thing that saves you.” He grins.
I grin back a bloody smile before spitting in his face. “I will never submit,” I rasp out defiantly.
Henry wipes the blood and spit from his face and raises his hand to slap me. He halts, just as an alarm starts ringing out. I frown, looking around, wondering what it is. If it’s a fire, I’m fucked.
He storms off. “What is i—” I hear him say, followed by a loud thud.
The door is pushed open and Nyx walks in, his eyes taking me in. “Shit,” he mutters as he comes closer to me. He uncuffs me and I collapse to the ground, having no strength to hold myself up. He grabs me, lifting me in his arms.
“Put me the fuck down,” I protest.
“I’m saving your ass,” he snaps back.
“Like you cuffing me to that wall and leaving me there for...” I pause, not knowing the answer.
“A week,” he says through gritted teeth.
“A fucking week!” I gasp, ignoring the fact that he’s running through the building, carrying me like I’m a sack of potatoes. “From one cunt to another, fuck. Do tell me, what torture do you offer? I want to be sure I’m getting the best deal?” I ask him sarcastically. As people around us are running and screaming, as well as gun fire, I ignore it, glaring at him as he continues to carry me.
He looks down at me briefly. “Do you think you could keep your smart ass remarks to yourself while I try to get us the fuck out of here alive?” he snaps. “Jesus, you’d think a week of being stuck down there would have you…” He pauses, ducking behind the stairwell as someone shoots at us. The statue shatters above our heads, covering us in bits of marble.
“I’d what? Come out a shell of a woman? Cry? Be forever grateful that you have saved me?” I ask him.
He looks down at me. “Fuck, why did I even bother?” he snaps.
“Like fuck if I know.” I shrug.
A whoosh sound shoots past, just missing us. “Shit, we’ve got to move,” he pants, getting to his feet. I hold onto him, knowing if I had to run now, I would die. I’m too weak.
He makes it outside and takes off for the trees. Horses are running free from the barn as he runs across the grounds. We make it into the wooded area, where he stops for a moment to catch his breath. I move to get out of his hold, but his hands tighten.
“No, you’re too weak. We need to keep moving,” he pants, trying to draw in air.
I don’t argue. I know he’s right. He starts moving again through the wood, until the sounds coming from the house fade. Only then does he slow to a walk.
“So, you want to tell me what’s going on?” I ask.
