Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Thorin
I f I hightailed it out of here, how far could I make it? Locren would probably let me get to the door before he unleashed hell upon me.
Mr. Basilisk himself leans against the mantle of the fireplace, drink in hand, dressed in a simple white tunic rolled up to his elbows and brown fitted trousers. His icy blonde hair is slicked back and his face is clean shaven. The image of class.
Next to him, two men smile and laugh, having a grand ole’ time. Something is very off about them. Both men are tall and fit, one has curly teal hair that brushes his ears while the other has his mousy brown hair tied in a knot low on his head. Curly’s reptilian eyes reach mine with equal parts fascination and desire.
“It seems our little lady has arrived,” he purrs.
Locren snaps and points next to him like I’m his pet—well, I might as well be. With no point in prolonging the inevitable, I strut forward with my head held high, taking my assigned place.
Bowing my head, I wait for someone to address me. Seen not heard, blood bag.
“Oh, this one listens? How wonderful!” A shadow forms in front of me as he approaches. Bun man’s voice sends a chill through me. It has an ancient drawl—heady and demanding. “Look at me.”
My eyes act before my brain can process the command, locking gazes with bun man. His hypnotic orbs of garnet are unsettling, but that’s not what has my veins running cold. No, it’s the living corpse they’re attached to. How is this even possible? Vampires died off years ago after healthy blood became almost impossible to come upon.
“Try not to let your fear overwhelm you. It smells almost as delectable as the blood pumping through your racing heart.” The eerie voice invades my head.
Bile fills my stomach, burning my flesh along the way. Don’t throw up, Thorin. Don’t you dare throw up! Bun man grabs my chin between his icy fingers, flashing a fangy grin.
“Olios, play time will come soon. Release the lifebringer.” Hearing his name from Locren’s mouth somehow makes things worse. With a sigh, Olios reluctantly rips away his hand.
The saddest part of this is I feel ‘safe’ knowing Locren won’t let these men hurt me…too bad.
“Thorin, you may look at our guest.”
Straightening, I let my eyes dart between the two men. Now that I’m closer to curly I feel an undeniable pull toward him. He must notice it too, nostrils flaring as he bites down on his full lower lip. “You’ve already met Olios. The man you are ogling right now is Quinnin. They are accomplished researchers here to figure out the cause of your exceptional blood. I expect you to obey their every word without a fight.”
“I thought testing stopped once a healer became pregnant,” I blurt out without thinking. At the same speed as the words leave my mouth the sting of his palm comes across my cheek.
“Question me again and I’ll fuck your mouth until your jaw is broken. Do you understand me?”
Tears prick my eyes but I don’t dare let them fall. “Yes, Sir.”
Locren shoves me into the arms of Quinnin. “Nothing is off the table as long as she stays alive and the fetus remains unharmed.”
Quinnin chuckles, pulling my head to the side to expose my neck. “Don’t you worry, You’ll be so fucking worked up and begging for my cock you won’t even know what’s going on,” he whispers, pressing a kiss into my skin.
Three weeks later
“Look how nicely it’s healed up! Truly remarkable.” Olios runs an icy finger over the top of my thigh, examining the thick scar that has formed.
Breathy moans are robbed from my lips as Quinnin pumps three fingers in and out of my soaked center. “Remove the next section.” His voice is like honey, sweetly coating my brain. Quinnin was right, the line between pain and lust has intermingled. I no longer care. I enjoy it.
Olios uses his nail to slice off a large area of flesh from my ribs—I scream out, waves of ecstasy taking away the pain. The sample drops into the bowl beside me with a wet plop . Almost as wet as the sound coming from between my legs.
What is shame? Quinnin is an incubus, I don’t have any control over my body. Right now I’m nothing more than a little doll to experiment on. To be fucked and cut as they please. Hell, they even call me dolly.
“Hey now, dolly, you’re doing so great,” Quinnin praises, as he removes his fingers from me, sucking off my cum. “And how cute is this belly?! Such a fascinating little bugger inside there, growing so fast.”
He’s not wrong. Over the last three weeks, my stomach has grown to where it would be at five months pregnant. Time is different down here—minutes feel like days, yet time ceases to exist. So in actuality, I could be five months along.
Lamely, I grip the comforter between my clammy fingers, wishing I was on the metal tables in the medical tent. At least I knew I was going to be tortured. Being splayed out on spun silk feels like an insult, tainting something I once treasured, transforming it into a place where I will always feel the pooling blood beneath me, penetrating every layer. Where I’ll hear the squelching sound of my flesh being removed. Where the echoes of monsters laughing and moaning will play over and over for all eternity—if I live past tomorrow that is.
“Gentlemen! How is my lifebringer? Behaving I hope.” Locren waltzes into the room with a jovial tone.
“Oh, she has been such a pleasure to work with. We’ve been able to get impeccable data, and gods I’ve never felt so charged before,” Quinnin quips.
“Her magic is remarkable, truly. I’ve never seen healing abilities quite like hers. Interestingly, we have discovered that she can scar.” Olios leans down, lapping up the river of blood flowing down my chest and around my breast. He makes a point to run his tongue over every mark they’ve left behind.
The blurry figure of Locren arrives to my left, wiping a cold, wet towel across my forehead. My breath hitches with the threat of a sob—kindness from the devil playing at my heartstrings. I’m pathetic.
“Hmm, I do believe we have reached the end of your research. You two have pushed far beyond the limits of her body, especially since she is with child,” he chastises. “Have either of you checked the health of the baby recently?”
The room falls eerily silent. Of course they haven’t, it’s not a priority to them.
“Elliot!” Locren calls for his favorite goblin. “Bring the midwife in immediately.”
“Yes, Master.”
Locren tucks my sweaty curls behind my pointed ear, dabbing my neck with the cloth, while keeping his eyes trained on Olios and Quinnin. “I hope you’re praying to whatever god you worship.” The atmosphere vibrates with power.
“Sir, how can I be o—” Wynona’s words die on her lips, most likely at the sight of me. “Get away from her. Now!” Wynona’s voice shakes the room.
Surprisingly, Locren steps to the side, but the other two aren’t as smart—high on blood and all. Now that she is closer my vision is less blurred. A venomous scowl overtakes Wynona’s face as she assesses me, her flock textured hands caressing my stomach. I hear the choking before I focus in on what is happening. Wynona’s fingers have extended their vines, twisting themselves around the monsters, draining their bodies dry. With a pop and pff I know their bodies have disintegrated into nothing.
“She needs blood immediately ,” she aggressively breaks the silence.
“What of the child, dryad,” Locren presses.
Wynona takes my hand in hers, making small circles with her thumb “I’m sorry, the soul has left.”
“When? Can you tell me when?”
“There are faint traces lingering. I would say within the last hour.”
Locren growls, a crashing sound following closely thereafter. “Thank you for disposing of the problem. I would resurrect them and kill them again if I could.” With the slam of a door, he’s left us alone.
Even in my hazed state, my mind reels, trying to process what has happened. A shallow hiccup escapes my heavy chest as fresh tears collect on my lashes, cooling my scalding flesh as they fall. These should be tears of sorrow, but they’re not—they’re of relief. No child belongs in this world.
Wynona walks around to the other side of the bed, where the makeshift laboratory is, and starts opening up drawers and cabinets. Finding what she’s looking for she takes the place where Olios was just standing.
“Normally I would ask for permission to touch you, but right now if I don’t you will die.” I barely feel the needle pierce my skin as she stitches my flayed skin, working quickly and with precision, tying off each stitch as she goes. “As soon as I finish closing all of these, I’ll transfer you to another room. You don’t need to spend another second in this disgusting bed.”
I don’t really care to be honest. I know I’m going to die. The thing I don’t understand is why I feel so hot. I’ve always heard that you know you’re going into shock, and close to death when you are freezing cold—what I wouldn’t do to feel even the slightest chill right now. Magma flows through me like it would a conduit. Hotter than my ascension ceremony or any flame I’ve encountered. An ear piercing scream erupts from me.
“We are born in flames. We die in flames.”
“This is the last one, sweetheart. Hang in there.” Wynona’s angelic voice tries to fight the chaos of my mind.
“We are born in flames. We die in flames.” I murmur once more. “We are born in flames. We die in flames.” Over and over again like a prayer. Like a promise .
My bones begin to rattle violently, melting from the inside out. Even through the excruciating pain, the chant continues until I’m swallowed whole by the heat.
And then it all stops. No heat. No pain. No heartbeat.
It’s finally over.