39
AN AGONIZING WAIT
IVY
M y chest aches and my hips cry out in agony, protesting that something’s digging into them. I’m sore, I'm bruised and I’m fucking freezing. Every joint aches and the cold makes it worse, adding insult to the considerable injuries I’ve sustained.
The muscles I rely on barely work, unable to contract as pain rips through my body, and my exhaustion renders them too weak to take my weight. It’s a fucking disaster and I can’t let it stand, not if I’m going to survive whatever fucking hellhole this is.
My head pounds as I try to remember what happened, ignoring the urge to open my eyes before I’ve had a chance to figure out what I’m likely to see. I remember my room and my jewelry box, the necklace with the golden book far too big to be a pendant, and the burst of light blinded me before I lost consciousness .
“You may as well look around,” a harsh, amused voice snarls. “You’ll have to sooner or later.”
A shiver rolls down my spine as footsteps sound beneath me and adrenaline pulses into my veins. My core tightens and my muscles cry in pain at the minor insult that’s left them reeling.
“Henry’s pet is pathetic,” a second voice calls out, echoing around me.
I don’t need to open my eyes to know I’m somewhere unpleasant and the thought of realizing how bad it is fills me with dread. I know I’ve heard that fucking voice before, and its condescending, arrogant, and trickly tone sends another pulse of horror through me.
“Rowan.”
“She’s not stupid,” the other voice says. “And her memory is working fine. How’s the head, darling?”
I groan as my head tries to break apart again. “Fuck off and die.”
Laughter rings out and the mocking sound reverberates through the air and every fucking bone in my broken body. I’m physically shattered, but that’s not the game they’re playing here, and whoever’s taunting me has a different aim in mind. One leaving me a shell of the person I used to be.
They’re trying to do what Henry failed to do.
They’re trying to break my spirit.
They’re trying to amputate my soul and steal my will—and they’ve got a fucking surprise in store.
My eyes snap open and meet the vicious gaze of a predator homing in on his kill. The red glow burns through the dim room, trying to intimidate me into cowering.
And I will not .
I refuse to show one ounce of fear.
I refuse to give the cunt one gram of respect and my eyes burn with an anger running as hot as hell.
“She’s startling,” he says, edging closer as his head tilts. “Dazzling. Those eyes.”
His hand reaches toward me and stops, catching my attention before he runs his finger along the metal bar between us. My eyes follow the lines he traces, making out the cage that contains me above him. He wants me to know fear and accept it, and I show him none, holding the goddamn line as I accept I’m in a goddamn cage suspended in the fucking middle of a room.
“They say you can’t choose your mate,” he says, tilting his head in the other direction. “I wonder what Henry has done to earn you, my dear.”
He pushes the metal, and the cage swings, gently rocking backward and forward as my stomach turns. The swaying movement doesn’t calm me and my nerves fire warning shots that this is far from ideal. It’s the canary singing in the coalmine and I’ll be damned if this becomes my swan song. I’m caged, but not dead yet, and that’s the hope flying through my soul and setting it free.
“Shall we find out?”
My eyes flick back to his with pure defiance. An unreserved act of rebellion so fucking bold it could light the darkest night. The room has only black, but my rage burns with the heat of a thousand suns, and the twilight trying to descend won’t be mine.
I’ve been through worse than this.
I’ve broken worse than him.
I’ve beaten insurmountable odds before—and I don’t need to win this fight. Not outright .
I just need to hold on. I need to not drown in the despair he’s trying to create. I need to stay afloat long enough for Henry to make it here. That’s the battle, that’s the fight. It’s this asshole against my determination, my resilience against his endurance.
And it’s going to be a fucking long night by the time we’re through.
“It’s a pity,” he continues as the cage keeps swaying. “You’re quite attractive. You won’t be. Not when I’m done.”
I hold his gaze and his eyebrow arches as I stare, unflinching and unafraid. He steps closer and I tilt my head, mirroring his movements as I stare down at the fucking asshole beneath me like he’s a piece of shit. Because he is and I want the whole damn room to know exactly what I think of him.
The first point is scored.
We both know it. We both count it.
And he doesn’t fucking like it.
“I’m Marcus,” he says, hissing through his bared teeth. “I assume Henry mentioned me?”
He didn’t. And my expression betrays exactly why I think I haven’t heard of him. His features sharpen, drawn in the pale light illuminating the room as we familiarize ourselves with the other’s features. I’m learning his lines and contours, his tells and his behavior. I’m gleaning anything I can from the darkness, trying to gather any information to turn to my advantage.
I’m playing against someone who’s doing the same. Someone who’s far more experienced, more powerful, and who I can’t hope to match. Except, I know I’ve played this game before and I know I’ve held my own. I didn’t win, but I didn’t lose, and that’s good enough today .
But there’s another difference my brain doesn’t want to admit, and the tightening of my chest pleads with me to remember. Henry didn’t want to hurt me. He didn’t want to inflict any more pain than necessary. Just enough. Only enough. Exactly enough to achieve what he wanted and not one bit more.
Marcus won’t be the same.
He won’t hold back. He won’t show mercy.
He’ll use whatever he can, whenever he can, and he’ll enjoy every fucking second of my agony until I break or bend or bow.
“I see,” he says, disappointed. “He left you vulnerable.”
“Stop playing with your fucking food,” Rowan says, marching forward and rattling the cage until it shakes violently. He throws his arm out and the chain swerves as it reels, forcing my cage to careen behind it as it races to catch up with its center.
My stomach does little better, but my nerves fire another warning shot, aware Rowan’s temper is more than a cause for concern. He’s unpredictable, violent and vicious enough to make it hurt. Really fucking hurt. Irrational too, and angry men do dangerous things. Things they might regret later if they had a conscience, and my instincts tell me Rowan’s lacking one.
The cage slows and the grey blurs solidify as my head keeps spinning. My mind’s whirling, filled with dread and the terror of a thousand possibilities outside of my hands. I have no control, no power, and my fate is in the hands of two despicable beings. Equally powerful. Equally horrific. But maybe, just maybe, not evenly matched.
The chance of dividing them is slim, but my eyes latch onto Marcus’s and I see the spark of irritation in them. He’s annoyed and not with me. His authority’s been undermined and he’s fucking unamused.
“We’ve met before, darling,” Rowan continues.
I slowly turn my attention to him, drawing out the process in the hope of riling Marcus. I’ve ignored and dismissed the more controlled vampire, and that ought to stoke the scorn and derision I’m trying to sow. It’s risky, fucking risky, but I’ve got little choice and even less time.
And the seconds keep ticking away, moving against me as Rowan runs his sharpened nail over the metal bars barely separating us. There’s nothing keeping me safe and little holding me secure, but that’s the fucking point of this. This is the psychological softening he thinks will weaken me and the fucker’s about to learn I’m not easy to break.
“Of course.”
Rowan’s eyes flash with rage as I dismiss him like he’s a fucking inconvenience.
“Your manners haven’t improved.”
I sigh. “Neither have yours.”
One vampire growls, snarling with the ferocity of an apex predator, while the other crosses his arms and looks on, amused. Marcus is content to let this play out for now, letting me do the work of undermining the other coven leader for him.
“Should we remove that fucking collar?” Rowan asks.
Marcus drops his head, exasperated. “It might sever her connection with Henry, and we don’t want that, do we?”
I shrug and rest my weight back, turning my head between them slowly, as if I can’t decide who’s actually in charge.
“I thought you said she wasn’t stupid.” Rowan pushes the cage again and I spin around, dangerously dizzy when we stop spinning .
“She’s not,” Marcus says, stepping behind him. “She’s playing you like a fucking fiddle.”
Rowan hisses and I stop counting points. I’m up by enough to have won this round and now we’re moving to a different phase in this game. The nastier one. The one that hurts and does damage that might not heal. The wounds that scar and mark me as a survivor, if I make it through this ordeal.
I’ll never be the same, but tonight won’t be what defines me.
Even if it ends here.
Even if it ends now.
His eyes darken and their red turns into maroon, heralding the start I’ve been dreading. Rowan prowls as he stalks closer, drawing every excruciating second out before he’s standing so close his breath licks my skin and makes it crawl.
His nail screeches as it scrapes the metal and the sound is a stab to my heart, designed to wound. My heart pounds against my chest, fighting to escape the confines of its cage while I struggle in one of my own. Neither of us can free ourselves from the inevitable and I catch a final breath of my own.
Rowan’s eyes flash a warning of excitement as he moves too fast to process, grabbing my ankle and yanking it out of the cage. I was mistaken to fear being contained by the metal bars, aware of exactly how fucking vulnerable I am now my leg dangles like dead weight, unable to free itself from Rowan’s hold.
My eyes stare back and I watch his nail pull slowly from the metal cage and scrape down my thigh, barely drawing blood but threatening much more.
“You know what happens next, right?” he asks, mocking me as his tongue flicks between his lowered fangs .
“You’re going to make it hurt,” I say, forcing a smile that sickens my stomach. “You’re going to take me apart piece by piece, and you’re going to enjoy it.”
His grin turns into a sneer, and the tip of his tongue traces the point of his teeth. I stare along my leg, following the burning line of heat left from the first wound. I’m easily handling this pain, without too much fucking effort. Rowan knows it, I know he knows it, and we both know this is just beginning.
“And you’ll still be a graceless cunt at the end of it.”
His claws pierce the top of my thigh and he drags them down, separating muscle fibers as they sink deep enough to make me scream. I can’t escape the agony and I arch my back, writhing as Rowan delights in inflicting a wound I’ll carry for the rest of my life.
Thick, warm trickles of blood tickles ooze as they seep out my leg and sweat pours out my skin. I’m panting, trying to cling to reality as pain and fear become the only things I know. The only things I feel. And I won’t give in to either of them.
“She screams so fucking beautifully,” Rowan says, dragging a nail achingly softly. He’s mixing the sensation, stoking my fear and playing with me, tormenting me as his eyes darken further and his fangs grow even longer, threatening yet more violence.
He drags his claws down me and I scream again, releasing the pain as I cry out. Rowan strikes again and again, shredding my leg as his control slips and his movements turn frantic. The drips of blood quicken and my vision narrows as my cries grow louder and Rowan’s snarls turn vicious.
There’s a pause and I catch my breath, aware this isn’t a kindness. It’s designed to let me recover so he can continue, allowing me a few moments of relief before the pain returns. It’ll be worse after a pause, after the ecstasy of relief .
And I wait, expecting the inevitable burst of pain that shatters my consciousness, surprised when it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s a soft stroke up my thigh as Rowan’s hand glides over my blood-covered skin. It’s more disturbing than the wild look in his eyes. He’s out of control and the violence rippling through his body threatens to tear mine apart, sparing nothing and taking everything as his face moves closer.
He's closing in on his kill and his fangs descend, eager to pierce my flesh and drain my blood. Rowan succumbs to his primal urges and there’s no escape for either of us. He’s lost in his desire and I can’t free myself from his grasp, and as his tongue laps the blood from my skin I shudder, disgusted and dreading what comes next.
“So fucking sweet,” he says, darting his eyes up to savor the panic swirling through mine. “Honey and amber.”
He licks again and I writhe, frantic to escape what my brain tells me is inevitable.
“Beg for your life, pet.”
I shake my head and he roars in anger, furious I’ve disobeyed him. He asks again and I refuse, biting down hard enough to draw blood as I lock my jaw and deny him what he wants.
Rowan’s rage builds as the anger pulses through him and he throws his head back, baring his fangs. They’re fucking fearsome and my soul cries out in panic, too fucking afraid to do anything but scream.
I watch, half-frozen, half-startled as his fangs draw nearer to my thigh, threatening to pierce a major artery and take my life in seconds. I close my eyes, wishing I’d said everything I should have said and regretting all the things left undone. All the moments wasted and the opportunities lost, all those left unappreciated as I frittered away the precious seconds I was gifted.
A hiss sounds through the silence, stifling the quiet it erases in a split second. My heart judders and there’s a second sound, a puff of something exploding, whimpering out of existence and into something far less tangible. There’s shock and awe, disbelief and devastation. And the whisper exploding around me leaves me untouched, still breathing while I wait for a pain that never comes.
My eyes peek open and dust plumes around me, bellowing like a cloud of ash after a fallout of catastrophic proportions. Its dark grey smoke falls toward the ground, covering me in the broken remains of a vampire no longer holding me. No longer on top of me.
Rowan’s gone.
And in his place is Marcus, standing with a dagger at the right level to have pierced his heart. The trace of debris on the silver blade confirms the kill and his eyes announce his victory, while his demeanor shifts to that of a conqueror basking in his glory.
Marcus has claimed Rowan’s life and his coven, defeating him for me and leaving me with only one enemy. A much more ruthless and controlled adversary, but at least there’s only one of them.
“Rowan was a fucking waste of space. Thank the gods we’re no longer forced to endure his presence.” Marcus stands erect, holding himself like a fucking emperor claiming his throne. “I couldn’t let him live when he was so dangerously out of control. I need you alive, my dear. Henry won’t come if you’re dead.”
Marcus raises his hands and the room falls dangerously silent. Pairs of eyes make themselves known as their owners emerge from the shadows within the darkness, bowing as they accept their place beneath their undisputed leader .
“MY. FUCKING. COVENS.”
Heads dip and silence reigns. Marcus turns slowly, surveying those beneath him and the kingdom he rules.
“You were right, Ivy,” Marcus says, flicking his fingers as he brushes ash and dust off them. “Rowan had neither grace nor manners. You’ll find I lack neither. Nor patience, my dear—and you’re in for an agonizing wait until Henry arrives.”