Chapter 39 #2
Drogon drags his fingernails through Vesper's hair similarly to how one might pet a venomous snake coiled around their arm.
"What a wicked little liar you are, Vesper.
" He smiles, but it isn't warm and reassuring.
It's menacing and dark, like he is deciding between offering her half of his kingdom or snapping her deceitful neck.
"Vesper, you promised -"
Bastian chokes on his cries when Drogon screams, "Be silent, mortal! Lest I cut out your tongue and feed it to my dogs."
Said dogs are now beside him, and they look more like something that crawled out from a swamp than the furry creatures we enjoy in our mortal world.
Bastian retreats into himself, quiet and defeated. He shoots me a pitiful glance. If he's looking for sympathy, he won't find it with me.
"Permission to speak, Master," Vesper whispers, head bent.
Drogon considers her a moment before agreeing. "Speak."
"The mortal has been useful to us," she surprisingly defends Bastian. "If it pleases you, permit him to swear fealty to you."
The Demon King releases his hold on Vesper and strokes his clean-shaven face. "You want me to spare his life?"
Vesper falls to her knees once again, not daring to meet his unholy gaze. "Only if it pleases you, Master."
Bastian swallows so hard I see the knot in his neck bounce. He's scared. Rightfully so. He fucked up and now we're all going to pay for his mistakes.
Before Drogon decides, Vesper adds, "He brought you Enver Sol's daughter."
As if planned, the demons standing in front of my cage part, giving the Demon King a clear line of sight to me.
He grins, his tongue spearing across his lips like a serpent.
My heart thunders in my chest, threatening to break every rib bone in my body.
His unrelenting gaze is so suffocating, I find it nearly impossible to breathe.
I instinctively reach for my magic to shield our cage, but the sugovan is still in my system. I'm helpless.
Shit.
"Enver Sol's daughter." The words ooze from his lips like poison. "My, my. What a delicious gift your mortal has brought me." He stretches his hand out and motions for me to join him. "Bring her to me."
My body screams to escape, but there's no one here to rescue me. Nyx is still unconscious and even if he were healthy, there'd be nothing he can do to stop whatever is about to happen to me. He would have to watch just as I was forced to watch him suffer. Better for him not to see.
There are suddenly dozens of hands all over me, touching every inch of my skin.
With my hands bound, there's nothing I can do to stop the demons from pulling my hair, groping me, pinching or slapping me as I'm dragged through the crowd and forcefully yanked up the wooden steps.
By the time I'm thrown at Drogon's feet, my hair is disheveled, some strands even missing entirely from being ripped out.
My clothing is torn and tattered. I'm lucky I'm not completely exposed for all to see.
A grey hand with razor sharp black nails slides beneath my chin, leave a trail of warmth. Drogon tilts my head upward to meet his yellow gaze. Vesper stands beside him, grinning in triumph.
I refuse to whimper or weep, reminding myself I am a Basilius, and we do not beg nor surrender. If I die today, I die fighting. I stare up at Drogon, defiance in my eyes. He smiles, using his other hand to swipe brown hair from my face.
"Oh, you are pretty, aren't you?" He purrs, the tips of his fingers feeling like small burns across my skin. "Maybe I should add you to my collection of playthings."
"I would rather die," I hiss, which seems to please him.
"Fiery." He kneels so his face can hover above my own. He snakes his fingers through my hair, tugging the back of my head, holding me in place. "I will enjoy watching you break."
"Fuck. You." I grit through my teeth.
"Master," Vesper's voice slices through the tension between me and the Demon King.
A flash of irritation seizes his molten gaze. "What is it?" he growls.
"She is a threat to you alive," Vesper slips her personal vendetta in, my death her only mission. "Perhaps, you should consider killing her – "
The Demon King moves with frightening speed.
One second, he's holding me firmly in place, the next, he's on top of Vesper.
She's pinned beneath him, his enormous hand squeezing her neck.
No. Burning her neck. Her eyes bulge as her skin sears.
Her screams are deafening. Smoke from the burns wafts upward but no one makes a move to save her or stop the Demon King from inflicting his torture.
He’s killing her.
"Who do you think you are to advise me on anything?" he flashes his teeth like fangs. "I am lord and master. If I want to kill her, I will kill her. If I wish to fuck her, I will fuck her. It doesn't matter what you think or say, is that clear?"
Vesper is turning frightening shades of blue and purple as her oxygen is being cut off by his ever-tightening grip. Her feet kick beneath him, her body squirming from the shock.
By the looks of it, he's not going to give her the opportunity to apologize or beg for her life.
Suddenly, Drogon opens his mouth and sucks in a deep breath. Vesper's black, shadowy soul seeps from her mouth and nose and enters his body. Within seconds, she shrivels and her body ceases to move.
I force myself to stare at her charred and blistering neck. There's no way she's really gone though, right? She's a demon. I didn’t think you could kill a demon. A creature, yes, but not a demon.
Drogon twists to look at me, as if he read my thoughts. "She's been consumed."
"Did you –" I swallow. "Did you kill her?"
He chuckles darkly. "For your mortal brain to understand, yes. I killed her."
Vesper's gone.
I inhale, steadying my breathing. "Are you planning to do the same thing to me?"
His calloused hand wraps around my neck, already hot against my skin, and pulls me close. "No," he whispers and I know something far worse is coming. "You will be my pet. But first, you will be punished for your wicked tongue."
In a swift motion, Drogon lifts me by my neck and carries me to a wooden pole I hadn't noticed in the center of the platform. He drops me on the floor, and I suck in a breath, grabbing my neck where his hand left a burn mark. Before I register what’s happening, a chain is attached to my wrist cuffs and jerked upward.
I'm partially dangling, the tips of my toes the only part of me able to touch the wood beneath me.
I'm on display before every demon in Malvolio, their wicked, smiling faces pinned on me.
Behind me, the crack of a whip against wood startles me.
Fear coils around my heart and squeezes.
“Ten lashes!” Drogon commands.
Shit. I brace myself for the sting of the whip.
“Take me in her place!” Bastian cries out, causing a hush to fall amongst the mob. “I will bear her punishment.”