Page 58 of The Delta's Rogue
“Now tell me, sweet girl, what is your name?”
“Anaís,” I answer, voice shaking and raspy.
I focus on keeping my eyes locked on her and my heart at an even rhythm, like I’ve been trained to do when crafting a fake background story. It’s racing and stuttering anyway, so I doubt the lie is detectable.
Does it count as a lie when it’s my middle name?
“How old are you?” She angles her head to the side.
I swallow again to ease the dryness in my mouth. “Twenty-three.” Not a lie.
Mix the truth with the lies. Make it more believable.
“Are you a virgin?”
I nod.
I have to convince them. I can’t be another trophy in Nuncio’s collection. I can’t become his plaything.
I clench my jaw as she straightens. She steps closer until the metallic green of her semi-sheer gown brushes my skin and her face hovers over mine. Her chilling eyes flick across my features and down to my mouth. Her lips lower towards mine, and I cower away, straining against the vise grip of her fingers digging into my chin and her cruel power circling around me.
“We’ll see about that, sweet thing.” She releases me and spins away with a flourish, snapping at the younger witch. “Examine her, Brenna. Find out if she speaks the truth.”
“Yes, Mistress Amara.”
Soft, broken blue eyes meet mine. In them, I see a vast ocean of misery and hopelessness, even deeper than my own. Their depths tell me a story of reluctant obedience, of oppression and captivity.
She’s probably as much a hostage as I am.
My heartbeat is faster than a hummingbird’s wings. I hold Brenna’s gaze as she approaches, pleading with my eyes. I vow with my stare, making a promise: to help her, to free her, if she lies for me now.
It’s a promise I’m unsure I can keep but one I make all the same.
She blinks at me, expressionless. Her graceful hands lift to my face, dainty fingers brushing my lips.
And she releases her power.
Memories flood through me, yanked to the forefront of my mind, drawn forward by the magnetic magic in her touch. Memories of Sebastian kissing me, of me kissing him. Of his lips on my mouth or hovering over it. Of his tongue swiping across the seam, thumb tracing beneath, and his dick sliding between them.
Tears spring to my eyes, and I clamp them shut as her touch travels lower, down my throat. The memories change to ones of him wrapping his hands around it, holding me away from him as I try to kiss him, of him tying my red choker, his fingers gentle as they trace the fabric.
Lower and lower she goes, pulling memory after memory from me, each one associated with a different part of my body. Each one featuring mySebastián.
As gut-wrenching as they are, I don’t shy away from the memories or her touch. I don’t flinch. The other witch and my handlers will only force me to hold still if I do. And maybe—just maybe—Brenna can sense the emotions tied to those memories. Maybe she’ll realize, maybe she’ll understand…
“Promise me you’ll find me again.”
The words echo in my mind, the moment playing behind my shut eyelids like a movie.
Brenna’s finger draws shapes over my clit and pussy, but I clench my jaw and ignore it, pushing the memory harder towards her, hoping she finds it in herself to help me.
Sebastian holds me in his arm, his body covering mine. Our hands press into his chest, our hearts and breaths in complete synchronization.
“I promise I will find you.”
Brenna drops her hand, and I gasp as the magnetic magic vanishes and my memories fall back into the safety of my mind. Goosebumps cover my skin, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. I shudder as my knees shake, legs threatening to give out from underme after the intrusion into my memories and the violation of my body. But I breathe through it all, keeping myself steady and upright.
I open my eyes slowly, meeting hers again. Her hand shakes slightly, and she stares back at me, an intensity in her gaze that wasn’t there before.
