Page 21 of The Lost Child

Exhausted and in pain, I was forced to remain still. I couldn’t defend her. I was too wounded.

“You’ve ruined my weapon, Nerissa.”

His voice was a dark snarl, and I knew he meant her harm. Why didn’t she fight back? She had a sword! Where did her fiery temper go? She trembled before this man, shaking and holding up her hands to protect her face.

“Now I have to take a trip up north. A king is going to pay me a ransom just to answer his questions about drakens. The easiest robbery ever!”

I didn’t pay attention to his words, still focused on the female. A horrible thought occurred to me: what if he was hermaster as well? I wanted to tell her to fight for both of us, but all that came out was a strangled moan as I reached an arm out to her. Master caught the movement, naturally.

“Actually, I have a way we might use this to my benefit. Since you’re not a witch and our enemies have quieted lately, you will stay here with the beast since you seem to get along so well. Make sure he doesn’t die while I’m gone. Maybe you can have little drakes babies, and finally be of some use.”

The female flinched as the iron bars shut behind the master. I tried to crawl forward to let her know that it was OK and that I wouldn’t hurt her. It wasn’t so bad down here once you grew used to it.

She started to cry.

I wanted to comfort her, but I was just so tired. If I stopped bleeding, I could focus on her. I could help her. I rolled onto my stomach, my eyes closing on their own even as she turned toward me. Tears rolled down her face. I didn’t blame her. I didn’t like being down here either.

But she cried more as her eyes took in my wounds. Surely she wasn’t crying for me? No one cared for monsters. Especially not pretty, good-smelling, kind, food bearing … I drifted asleep despite the pain, wondering if I’d ever seen her face again.

Nine

NERISSA

He’d smacked me.

That wasn’t too shocking as he regularly belted me, but it was the first time my father had ever cracked me across the face. It stung, his sharp rings tearing a gash of some kind on my cheek that slowly bled down my jaw. I couldn’t worry about that now, though. It would have to wait.

Canavar needed me.

Fresh tears gathered in my eyes as I gazed down at him. He was on the verge of losing consciousness. No doubt from blood loss.

I couldn’t quite look at his back yet, so I dug into my pouch for some opium to take the pain away. At least he couldn’t fight me when he was this injured, so it was easy work to push a bit of the concentrated drug between his teeth wrapped in a small capsule of dough. He swallowed reflexively, his eye mere slits before they finally drifted shut.

I steeled my nerves and shoved my own problems deep underground. Justlookat his back. Look at it, I commanded myself.

Quickly I snuck a glance and looked away, but all I’d been able to see was a mess of red. “Shit,” I cursed to no one, looking back and noting the white of his spine in places, and not from his normal spine spikes. My stomach twisted with nausea.

There was no paste that would help with this.

Fuck, he was going to catch an infection and die. I had to do something!

I dumped out my entire pouch, my eyes blurring with more tears as I took inventory: more opium, a few small bandages, and a small tin to ward off infection which was already half-used from earlier.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to no one, because Canavar certainly wasn’t awake to hear any apologies. I’d gotten him into this mess, and now he had wounds that would quickly turn fatal. Surely, my father wouldn’t let his grand weapon die?

I stared again at the blood, despair tightening my chest.

Wait.

It wasn’t despair.… It was the strange power; the strange magick that randomly overcame me, filling my body with pressure and intense need. I grit my teeth against it, willing it back. There was no Jagger here to take the edge off. Just me and Canavar.

At the very thought of him, my mind went back to being pressed against him, his hard cock jutting into my lower back.

The pressure intensified.

NO.

I stepped back and my foot slipped in blood. I pinwheeled my arms frantically, not wanting to fall on Canavar. I twisted to the side and landed face first in his blood. It smacked on my nose and lips, and soaked under the beds of my nails. It wasn’t red, but a darker blue-black that tingled and tasted like iron on my tongue.

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