Chapter 53 #2
“You know I can’t do that.” He chuckled, amusement in his voice. “Honestly, I was pleased when I saw you grab the knife. A bold choice—and you picked a decent moment to use it.”
“I just stabbed your cousin!”
“I’m aware—better you than me.” His laughter was low, teasing. “He can’t kill you.”
“If he finds out you’re playing with his toy, he’ll kill you,” I hissed, fearful on the edge of panic. I dropped my weight on my wrists.
He absorbed it, then purred a thoughtful hum. “Maybe—but I get his leftovers. He can hardly fault me for wanting a taste.” His nose pressed against my exposed neck, inhaling long and deep.
I jerked my head, teeth sinking into his jaw.
He flinched, then jerked away to swing me over his shoulder. “You’ll have to do better than that, Princess.”
But I was a queen.
Egath returned me to the bed, depositing me like a bundle of flesh. Tallon seethed while a servant dabbed at the shallow wound along his side, their eyes hungry and watchful.
When Egath reached for the ropes meant for the canopy curtains, Tallon stood.
“No. Don’t tie her up.” His lip curled into a sneer, and I straightened, hands pressed into the mattress, muscles coiled to spring. I would flee from him again.
His hand slammed against my neck, cutting off my breath, throwing me back onto the bed with a force that rattled my bones. My fingers wrapped around his wrist, scratching, legs kicking. He pressed the dinner knife against my skin and with that dull, pathetic blade—he sawed.
I screamed and thrashed under him, seizing anything within reach—blankets, sheets, air itself. Panic clawed at my lungs, sight swimming, vision narrowing to flickers of shadow and motion.
His mouth bit down, sealing over the fresh wound.
My mind flashed to Kallias. The way he would hold me, hands warm, lips tracing my cheek, settling into the crook of my neck with gentle, lingering kisses. The way his nips and soft sucks sent a shiver, a bloom of heat, racing down my spine to curl low in my belly.
This intimacy—so gentle, so sacred—was now twisted into horror. Tallon’s lips and tongue traced the wound, fevered and invasive. Bile surged, choking me, and I shoved with every ounce of strength at his chest, nails raking, fingers clawing.
He released me, panting, then grabbed my jaw, thumb pressing mercilessly against my mouth. I tried to bite, to feel something, to assert myself—but my teeth stayed. Still and powerless.
The world pitched beneath the bed, tilting, spinning. My hands clawed at blankets, desperate for stability, grounding, control.
“There now.” He laughed, running a hand through his tousled hair, amusement flickering in his eyes. “No ropes needed.”
I couldn’t move. Limbs lead, heavy and unresponsive. My jaw slack, mouth agape like a fish. My body had betrayed me, surrendered entirely to his power.
“Off.” He stepped back, pointing to the floor. “On your knees.”
The servant darted through the door, and Egath took a seat, observing with calm detachment.
My arms flopped forward, dragging me to obey.
Legs bent, folded, the mechanics of movement precise but hollow, like a marionette obeying commands while awake, aware, trapped.
I moved with the ease of someone wide awake—but I was a prisoner in my own flesh.
“Deimos wants to tease me, prove he’s king. But he forgets—you’re mine.” Tallon circled me, fingers slipping along my shoulders to pull the dress from my arms, baring my back. “And I do what I want with my toys.”
His belt cracked against my skin, shock of pain flaring through nerves, grasping for a noise I could not release. My jaw refused, my throat locked.
“Tallon, she can’t scream,” Egath reminded, voice smooth, indulgent—almost as if he wanted to revel in the sound too.
“Oh, I’m still learning.” His laughter rippled, light and cruel. This was a game to him.
The muscles in my jaw loosened enough for a gasp, a shallow inhale—right before the next strike.
White fire tore through my skin, a jagged flame running along bone, searing. I bit down on my tongue until blood filled my mouth.
The belt fell again. Crimson splattered across the rug, mingling with my whimper, teeth clenched around pain.
Breathe. Just breathe. In. Out.
I was Draconis. We did not break. We didn’t bow. I would endure. For my child, I would bear this.
The next strike traced a heavier path, dragging fire along my back, leaving a trail of agony from shoulder to hip. A stifled cry escaped, torn from lungs, clawing out.
I tried to detach, to push myself away. I pictured a little island with Kallias, sand warm beneath our feet, salt wind tangling our hair. The sun warmed our shoulders, kissed our skin—and the sea crashed in a steady rhythm while Tsunami played in its blue-green waves.
The belt yanked me back.
“Scream now.” Egath’s thumb brushed my lips, his gaze sharp, greedy, locked on the stream of crimson staining my neck. “Scream, Nienna.”
“Egath, no! She’s mine!”
Tallon snatched his hand, wrenching him away. Footsteps shuffled, the door slammed, and another blow came. He wasn’t done with me yet.
My mouth fell open, releasing a scream that tore through me, slicing coherent thought into jagged fragments. Rage coiled beneath the fear, a fire blooming with each strike, fury blooming in rhythm with pain.
The belt struck again, searing across my face, pulling a cry from deep in my chest.
His attacks continued, messy but relentless, hatred radiating off him in waves, pounding into my bones.
I screamed and screamed—for the victims, for the helpless, for the mothers shielding their children. I screamed for every injustice carved into the world, every right repaid with pain.
My throat burned. My body trembled.
I screamed myself hoarse, the sound twisting into a roar.
The roar of a dragon.