Page 65 of Immortal Bastard

She hadn’t realized she could communicate in such a way with other immortals. Cer always kept his thoughts closed off to her.

I am Adriel, she thought, unsure if he would understand her.

Adriel. The sound of her name in his voice was a pouring rain after a long drought.

Her breath hitched and she recalled what hope felt like. She trusted he would continue to visit, continue to speak to her this way, and be her friend.

“What did I tell you about standing by that window?”

Startled to learn Cer had returned, Adriel pivoted, throwing her back to the window so not to expose her friend. He jerked her away from the wall and threw her to the floor.

“Learn a new trick today, girl?”

Although he did not move a muscle, the house shook. The fire flickered and pottery fell as his menacing scowl darkened.

“How dare you let another male into your head?”

She shook with fear. Where had he come from? How had he known? He grabbed her roughly, throwing her into the table. Plates and bowls shattered to the ground, and he yanked her up only to haul her across the room and throw her down again.

Her head hit the hearth and blood seeped into her eyes. He dragged her up by her hair and shoved her down on the table, pushing up her shift.

“You belong to me.” Fabric tore as he wrenched her legs apart. “Your body is mine.” Fisting her hair, he slammed her face into the wood. “I own every part of you.” Jerking her head close to his mouth, he hissed, “Your mind belongs to me.” He shoved her forward, entering her with the brutal intention to punish her. “Your quim. Your thoughts. Your servitude. You’re mine, girl. Mine! How dare you let another male speak to you so intimately.” His fist came down with bludgeoning force. “Filthy whore!”

Pain engulfed her from the blow as an unseen hand clamped down on her throat. She gasped for air and tried to scream but he strangled her into silence.

“Can’t talk now, can you wench?”

Gasping, she choked and clawed at her throat as he brutalized her with relentless force. His vicious attack was beyond any cruelty he’d shown before. Blood pooled in her eyes as the lack of oxygen burst into apoplexy and her body seized.

If she assumed that was the worst he could possibly do, she was wrong.

After that day, he destroyed whatever was left of her will to live. He delivered a mortal death to her uncountable times, only to bring her back and force her through such torture again.

She never visited the window after that day. Time passed in increments of aching, catatonic consciousness, and battered delirium. She died a hundred deaths at Cer’s hand, wishing hopelessly that one time he might waste her completely and life would end.

One evening, as she lay on the dirt floor in a puddle of her own tears and pain, Cer abruptly stood. She flinched and whimpered as he stomped to the door. Her ears had been boxed, making it impossible to hear beyond a muffled whale, but when a lantern spilled and the table splintered behind her she knew trouble had come for them.

Curling into a ball, hoping to be mistaken for dead, she tried to remain calm. Voices roared like thunder as the world fell to pieces around her. She flinched and cried out when gentle hands lifted her from the ground.

“Fica calma, Adriel.”

The familiar voice filled her with calm, but her body was too weak to communicate. With her eyes swollen shut and her ears so damaged, she could only trust that the stranger would watch over her.

She awoke in bed, judging the passing of time by her diminished pain. Her heart shuddered when she opened her eyes and found Cer watching her.

His eyes were blackened sockets and his nose had been broken. He cradled his arm close to his chest as if it had been ripped from the joint. He didn’t bother her after that for some time. Together, they watched each other and slept for several days and nights, an unspoken truce between them she did not trust.

When she found the strength to rise, she moved about the home cautiously, keeping to the walls and never stepping within his reach. She dare not grow comfortable in his presence.

It took many nights for him to hit her again and, once he started, he made up for lost time. But the others returned like a band of avenging angels set to rescue her away from that hell.

That was the last night she died at the hands of her mate. He snapped her neck just before the others attacked.

The cool night air chilled her naked skin as gentle arms carried her away. Flinching at the screams in the distance, she only wanted to escape the ugliness of the world.

“Please, let me die.”

“Fica calma. You’re safe now.”

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