Page 52 of Bottoms Up
Finally, she walked to the wall and told him, her voice calm and cool, “Get your balance, Muscles. It’ll hurt like a bitch to fall right now.”
She worked the controls for the winch, lowering the chain, so it no longer supported him, and kept lowering it until it would easily reach the floor once disconnected from his wrist.
“Your turn,” she told me.
I disconnected the carabiner from his wrist and hooked it to his right ankle cuff, locking the mechanism so it couldn’t come off until someone slid it to unlock it.
Without warning him, I lifted Atlas into the air, turning him horizontal and then upside down, rotating him like the hands of a clock.
He didn’t expect it, and his screams filled the room.
Reflexes had him planting his left hand on the concrete floor once I had him upside down, and then Silver shortened the chain until his head hovered four inches above the floor.
He’d be able to hold himself up with that arm if he wanted to support himself and relieve the pressure on his ankle, but even a shapeshifter would eventually grow tired.
It was a truly devious position, and I suddenly wanted to make it worse.So much worse.
I stopped to examine the impulse, and realized part of it was what I was getting from his scent — pain, agony, and hopelessness for his predicament, sure, but also a little relief in the mix. I went into his head to examine that further, and saw he was relieved we hadn’t disappointed him, that the human and vampire were indeed devious and without mercy, that we were cruel enough — and creative enough — to give him what he needed.
He was thankful for the pain, and relieved he wasn’t going to be bored while we fucked. Grateful none of this was pretend.
I gave a polite telepathic knock to Gavin, and when he responded, I said,I’d like to make him temporarily blind and deaf.
It fell into the parameters he’d given me, but it’s generally best to be certain someone can handle near-totally sensory deprivation.
He was silent about ten seconds before saying,You’ve done an excellent job with him. I especially like the layers-of-agony bit you’ve put into his head. Yes, I can see that trapping him in with his pain will make this a truly memorable experience, just be certain you use steel and not silver. I might suggest you also take his voice from him, though in that position, vampire tricks will work better than a knife.
Thank you again for the use of such a lovely plaything. I’ll let you return to your evening.
He closed the connection, and I breathed a little easier. I’ve met Gavin many times on Senatus business and have no particular reason to be afraid of him, but his power sends little frissons of fear through my psyche. I’m pretty sure I do a good job of hiding it, but I was relieved when the connection closed.
I moved to the wall of clear drawers, lifted one of the long needles I’d seen earlier, squeezed it in my fingers to be certain there was no silver, and then decided to stab myself in the arm, just to be sure. My arm bled a few drops, and then stopped when the tiny hole healed. Not silver.
I turned to Atlas, watching me from a dozen feet away, upside down.
The scent of his terror filled the room. But it wasn’t sharp. It was layered. Metallic. Sour with memory. The kind of fear that comes from history, not just anticipation.
Gavin had given me the okay, though, and he knew his history.
“Ears first, or eyes?” I asked him.
He shook his head, already panting. I could hear his heart racing, his pulse drumming through his arteries.
I tilted my head. “If you don’t decide, it’ll be left ear, then left eye, right ear, then right eye.”
He took a deep breath, blew it out. “Dealer’s choice, Sir.”
I grabbed three more needles, testing them one at a time to be certain none were silver, and stepped to him with measured calm. Upping the tension. Letting the moment stretch like sinew under a blade.
His body trembled and something shifted. Not just his scent, but his thoughts.
A flash. Unbidden.
A room — white, sterile. Surgical lights overhead. His body bound, shaved everywhere. Electrodes mapped across his skin like a circuit diagram — scalp, chest, cock, balls, thighs. A tool going in and around his eyeball, prying it out. He was screaming, and they were asking questions. One leaned in close. Spoke Russian. The accent was Moscow-trained. Clean.Why did you come?
The door slammed shut in his mind, and the scene was gone.
His heart beat wildly in his chest. His breathing came in gasps. He wasn’t trying to hide his terror now.
