Page 20 of Captive Hybrid

Chapter Nine

Zenna

Godric was gone much longer than I expected. I fell asleep after a while, too tired to attempt to use my magic, and too fearful the vampire guard would return at any moment without my hearing him. They’re stealthy when they want to be.

I wake, blinking a few times in the near gloom. I’ve been down here for days now—I’m not sure how long, exactly, though it feels like weeks. I don’t think I would ever get used to the smell down here. Endless dampness. Even in the moments after I’d had a shower I had felt the humidity climb over my skin again.

To my surprise, as I glance up, the hallway is empty, the hallway outside my cell free of any guards. That I can see. The thought sends a shudder crawling over me. What if they’re just hiding, to see what I will do?

There’s a tray on the floor with a wrapped sandwich, a bottle of water and an apple. I scramble to the floor. There’s also my book. The one Deirdre passed on to me about my parents. Everything had gone sideways in Wolf Grove before I had a chance to read much from it, other than the brief story of the Origins.

I clutch the book to my stomach and peer as best I can through the metal bars, down each side of the hallway. ‘Hello?’ My voice carries on the stones, leaving an empty, hollow ache in my chest. This place could go on and on for miles. Even if I could escape this cell, who knows if I’d ever find my way to the surface again.

What Divina told me, let’s call it last night—though I have no way to tell time down here—before I fell asleep could be useful, there’s no way to tell if it will be enough to save me.

I stare down at my forearms, laced with the permanent vine marks. My visions and my marks come from my fae side, but I don’t know what Faerie powers can do. I’ve never known.

I slowly lower the book into my lap to stare down at the soft leather cover. I wish I’d known my parents. I wish I knew if I were like my father, or more like my mother. If I look like either of them.

Slowly, I pry the book open, letting it fall on my lap.

And give a little scream.

The sound assaults the metal bars, pounding every flagstone in the hall, sending my horror skittering through this underground labyrinth.

A panicked sob drags up, out of my throat as my fingers scramble desperately over what remains of the book.

Someone has torn out most of the pages.

Tears fill my eyes. ‘No.’ My only connection to my history, my family. My lineage. My mother and father. With shaking fingers, I flip through the few remaining pages, trying not to let the tears that drip from my chin hit the old parchment.

‘Not what you were hoping for?’ Callen’s cold voice blasts through me, too close.

My gaze snaps up to find his gleaming dark eyes shining just outside my cell. I sniffle, trying to catch my breath in the damp, close space. ‘What—’ A sob. ‘Why did you do this?’

Callen looks down at the book. ‘I didn’t. Drusilla did.’ He reaches through the bars and taps the book. ‘I guess she didn’t want you reading whatever was in here. Sorry,’ he adds, mockingly. He offers a pout. ‘I guess you’ll have to play with me if you want to know anything.’ Those dark eyes sparkle dangerously.

Godric’s warning flits into my mind. Not to get in range of Callen. I try to shuffle back. Too late.

His hand darts inside, gripping my wrist.

I gasp, expecting pain, but his fingers aren’t tight, only firm. I meet his gaze. ‘What do you want?’ I rasp out.

Callen leans forward, so slowly, like a predator wary of startling his prey. ‘I want to play.’

My stomach turns violently. I clamp my mouth shut to keep from hurling. I try to pull away from him, his grip turning painful at the resistance. ‘A question for a question?’

He nods, the slightest incline of his head, without breaking our gaze.

‘Me first.’ I try to keep my body from trembling. ‘Where am I?’

Callen’s teeth glisten in the darkness as his lips part in a chilling smile. ‘In a cell. Have you ever been bitten before?’

I frown. ‘That’s not an answer.’

‘It wasn’t a specific question.’ His voice is low, a warning.

‘You know what I meant.’ Despite his vice-like grip, my voice turns annoyed.

---