Chapter 11
I’d wrapped the chain around my hand thrice to pull with all my might as I clenched my teeth and grunted, but no amount of adrenaline surging through my veins would make it budge. It was bolted into the floor by thick screws and an iron plate.
“Fuck!” I hissed through my teeth, darting for the window.
Night had nearly fallen and all I could see as I hooded my hands over my eyes were the lights of distant wood-cooking fires on the horizon. The gardens directly below us were empty of people. I tried to pry the window open by its lever but even that took preternatural strength to open.
Even if I could open this window, all I could do was hang myself by my own chain.
I pounded my hand on the glass once, then charged for the washroom. I’d checked every drawer and nook in here for any kind of weapon, but there was nothing. No fancy sword or opulent royal daggers. Fucking nothing.
Okay, think.
Thinkthinkthink.
Yes, the vultae were extraordinarily strong, but that was if they fed.
I’d never met a virgin as there were entire systems to choose a vultus’s first, but it only made sense that if they derived their powers from feeding, then maybe I’d stand a chance in a fight against a virgin. Maybe. I didn’t fucking know.
My chain trailed me like a stalking snake as I pinged around the washroom in search of anything I might use to defend myself. Nothing.
I avoided looking at myself as I stood with clenched teeth, raking my hands through my hair over and over. Then it hit me. The mirrors. I was surrounded by dozens of mirrors.
My chain whipped around my feet as I scoured the washroom for anything heavy enough. A metal soap dish sat on a table by the tub with a block of soap inside. I tossed the soap aside and clenched it in my palm like it was a weapon, because it was. Just not the one I needed.
I bared my teeth at the mirror like it’d done something wrong. Maybe it had. It was gorgeous after all, framed in a stunning silver frame that looked like it’d pay for a month’s worth of food.
One. Two. Three. I hauled back and shouted as I chucked the soap dish.
It hit in the top left corner of the mirror, shattering it in a starburst of treacherously misshapen pieces. I carefully stepped forward, trying my best to avoid stepping on shards with my bare feet.
I struggled to pry apart one of the largest, most intact pieces. Its edges were so sharp, and I winced as I coaxed it from the broken mess. It was most certainly going to cut me, but what did it matter? It wasn’t like I could exactly use my fingers if I was fucked to death.
When I finally got it out, it reflected back the fear in my eyes. Or perhaps the terrified insanity of what I was even thinking about doing.
Gods. Fuck.
Was I going to stab a prince? The future king? The punishment would be swift and yet painful. And it probably wouldn’t even kill him as they healed so quickly. It’d have to be a fatal wound to kill him. His skull. His blackened heart.
A thud sounded from the chambers.
Fear pierced my heart.
If this was the king’s room and I was wrong, then I might as well stab my own neck now. He’d probably kill me just for the mess I’d made. Cut off a hand. A foot. My cock.
I swallowed hard as footsteps sounded from the adjacent room. My head shook all on its own as I shrank backward behind the door. A virgin demon. A red-eyed virgin demon frothing at the mouth, so blind with lust they didn’t care what they fucked so long as it had a heartbeat they could end.
My heart clawed its way up into my throat as the footsteps froze.
I held my breath and pinned myself flat against the wall, right behind the door. He wouldn’t be able to see me until he opened the door, and then it’d be too late. I’d attack.
A deep, masculine voice cursed, mumbling questions I couldn’t hear in a tone that sounded as confused as it did alarmed.
My chain rattled like someone had kicked it. Or perhaps picked it up.
The footsteps were hesitant but getting closer.
It barely registered that I was clutching the mirror so hard that it’d pierced my skin and was dripping blood down my wrist.
My head was a mess, but I did everything in my power to steady my shaking hands as I clenched my jaw tight.
I didn’t need to know him to hate him. I hated every last one of them. I would use that hate as fuel to stab this fucking virgin in the heart.
He was nearly in the washroom. Hesitant. Measured.
The door creaked. I stilled. It creaked some more. I held my breath. It creaked again until light slowly illuminated my face.
This was for all of us. For Landry, for Lennox, for my parents. It was for me.
The door opened another inch. I lunged.
He whirled sideways, twisting his torso, dodging my attack as his arms shot out in defense. But I charged again, my rage like a fog of insanity. That time I didn’t miss.
I jammed the mirror just beneath his ribcage into meaty muscle.
His demon scream was instant, splitting my ears, forcing me to howl in pain that rivaled his, but I managed to yank the mirror back out, ripping his flesh in jagged strips.
He screamed again, only louder and stars exploded in my vision.
I must’ve instinctively tried to cover my ears because he was on me in a heartbeat, capturing my wrist where I clutched the mirror.
He slammed my body into the wall behind me, then thrashed my wrist against its surface until I was forced to let go.
My weapon shattered on the floor in a breathless second. Gone.
I couldn’t think. He was so much faster, cursing as he spun me around and shoved one arm behind my back in an angle that would rearrange my shoulder if I so much as flinched.
“Who are you?” His voice was husky and strained and his breath hot on my ear. “Who fucking sent you?”
My mind was spinning. He wasn’t trying to fuck me so much as he was trying to snap my bones. If my outfit didn’t make absolute certain what I was, then the chain did.
My mouth tasted of blood. I couldn’t be certain from where I was bleeding. “Let go of me—”
He pressed tighter, thrusting my arm higher up my back as pain sliced into me. “I asked you a question, human.”
I snarled, then pressed my lips into a tight line.
“You don’t want to talk?” His whisper was so close to my ear that I could hear his heartbeat. “You just want me to break it?”
A strangled cry tore past my lips when he wedged my arm higher. My voice was a mess as I sputtered against the wall, “C-concubine.”
He laughed. This fucking demon laughed in my ear. Then he said with bored annoyance in his tone, “Clever. But I don’t have those.”
I cut my gaze back toward him. Didn’t have them? He had to have us—I screamed when he slammed his body into mine.
“Try again,” he said, seconds from ripping my arm from its socket. “Who sent you? I want a name.”
“Th-the king.” I pressed up to my toes, but the pain splitting my shoulder was impossible to escape. “The king came to my brothel. I-I was asleep. They chained me to this room. Please.”
He froze.
“Let go.” I tried to writhe away, but the pain was relentless. “Let go of me, you fucking asshole!”
After what felt like an eternity, where I was certain my shoulder would rip into two completely separate fragments, he released me.
Air whooshed from my lungs as I crumbled forward with no other choice but to clutch my throbbing arm. But I couldn’t afford to turn my back on a sex demon, so I hastened to a stand, spinning to face him.
My body stilled as I finally looked upon his face.
His face. Oh, my gods, his face.
I could barely make sense of what I saw. On one hand, he was one of the most attractive vultae I think I’d ever seen.
What were the eyes? Like a molten copper color framed by the longest lashes imaginable. Black hair. Dangerously sharp jaw. And full lips to soften some of the cold masculinity. Stunning. He was simply stunning.
But on the other hand, something was horribly wrong.
Underscoring his honeyed skin tone was a sickly ash gray that made him look seconds from fainting. Then his under eyes were so dark, they looked like bruised half-moons, and…freckles. He had freckles. They splashed his cheeks and nose.
The vultae didn’t get freckles. No, they couldn’t get them. Just like their black hair couldn’t get highlighted by the sun like his was in places. So, what the hell was wrong with him?
I couldn’t help but gape as I studied his face. “You don’t look like a demon.”
His molten copper gaze jumped to mine. I froze.
No. No, I hadn’t honestly just said that to him. To him, a fucking prince.
I wanted to inhale it back into my mouth. Suck it into my lungs. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. He could cut out my tongue and nail it to this wall, and it’d be justified.
Then he said, “And what does a demon look like?”
I hadn’t realized I’d parted my lips, ready to argue or plead, but I slowly sealed them shut again. It was the expression on his face, the absence of red tinted eyes. He wasn’t angered. No, he was humored.
“Horns?” His lips twitched like he was struggling to conceal a smirk. “Big, leathery wings?”
I skimmed my tongue over my teeth.
“Fire?”
I jumped when every candle in the room roared to life with a crackling pop, and there were a hundred candles in here, scattered on every surface.
My heart galloped through beats. I’d seen them summon fire before, but I’d never seen it done quite like this. He didn’t even need to concentrate. The magnitude was perplexing.
He dug into his pocket, fishing out a small, white paper scroll stuffed with dried leaves, which he bit between his teeth. Instead of just using any number of the candles in here, he tapped his fingertips through an intricate configuration, and fire erupted into his palm.
Dipping the end of the scroll into the flame, he hollowed out his cheeks to suck, then shook out his hand to extinguish it.
“I would argue that you,” he said, pointing the smoldering herbs at me, “don’t look like a human.”