Chapter 22
Twitch [ twitch ] verb
A manageable side effect experienced by genetically modified Breakers. Without constant physical exertion, muscular spasms ensue, causing intense pain and mental anguish.
– Excerpt from A Treatise on Talents , Third Edition
“The Original Houses’ purview over the commons serves to keep those less talented safe from harvest. The most talented of each line assumes the position of First, directing those beneath them and liaising with the other lines within a Quorum. The requisite for purity of talent guarantees equal representation and has been further adopted as a requirement for naming an heir, lest any House disqualify themselves from the running.”
– Lord Talos, Preceptor of History,
Academy of Glynfyls
Kara swallowed nervously. Miriam had descended on them as soon as they’d gotten back into the kitchen, shooing Flynn into Cal’s study and steering her to sit at the table across from Jon, who was finishing a bowl of soup. Hands on her hips, Miriam loomed over her.
How had she screwed up now?
Kara pulled a twig out of her hair, blushing. Running through the woods had filled some deep need in both of them. From Miriam’s expression and what was coming through her bond to Flynn, something about it was wrong. What was Cal saying to him?
Taking a deep breath, the older woman forced a smile and Kara’s stomach dropped.
“Well then, dinner tonight’s going to be an informal Introduction to the family. A hand fasting ceremony, if you like. After that you’ll be able to refer to me as Aunt, Jon as Uncle, and so on, but only when we’re amongst ourselves.” Miriam took another breath at the confusion on Kara’s face.
“It goes back to the Source trying to map out family trees to determine genetic traits. You’ll get the hang of it, just call everyone by their first names. Everyone in Glynfyls follows the practice. It’s considered rude to ask what a person’s relationships are, or to disclose who’s who in mixed company. Rather like passing wind.” She reached over, pulling a leaf from Kara’s hair and continued.
“As soon as we get into town there are other rules. It’s very important for Laughlin to act appropriately. Certain things just aren’t done. These urges of his. You need to help him stay in control of his baser emotions. When he left, there were rumors. If he keeps putting off what he has been, it’ll call his suitability as an heir into question.”
Kara paled, nodding at the tabletop. Miriam patted her shoulder, then changed topic with a burst of nervous energy.
“Well, now that that’s out of the way, before you go get cleaned up, you’ll just need to sign the paperwork renouncing your House to join ours.”
Kara’s head snapped up. Had the woman gone mad?
“He didn’t tell you.” Miriam colored. “I swear, these Scot men’ll be the death of me. I’m praying you have a girl in there. All right then, this is how it is; when you marry into the sixth line, you give up your birth House for your husband’s. You renounce, or you don’t marry. Period. ”
“But my House passes through the women…” And she was the last of them. Kara felt sick. How could they ask this of her? How could she choose? Would their bond be broken if she didn’t? Her mouth went dry as she tried to tamp down the panic gripping her chest. How could Flynn not tell her about this?
Miriam just stared at her, at a loss.
Jon cleared his throat. “I, ah, I may have a solution.” Taking off his glasses, he nervously buffed the lenses. “There’s historical precedent for having the second child of a union becoming heir to ensure continuance. We could write up the contract to work things that way.”
Miriam beamed at him, then turned to Kara expectantly.
She begrudgingly nodded, feeling trapped. At least that would keep her House alive, but it would also mean being bred at least twice…and if neither was a Binder or presented as a twist? She felt sick.
“Wonderful, now that’s settled, there’s some gowns of Shelby’s for you to try in the back bedroom. You’ll need one for tonight and the trip up. You can’t be seen in public like that.” Miriam sniffed. “Laughlin’s in the bath down here, you can use mine on the second floor. I shifted your things to his room in the attic. We’re full up tonight.”
Dismissed, Kara walked woodenly across the hall, closing the door after herself. She stepped over to the wardrobe and stumbled. Flynn had flat-out started blocking her again. Ugh, she hated it when he did that! Why would he—She wiped at her eyes, flipping through the gowns, her fingers numb, pastels and lace blurring together…
She sat on the edge of the bed, limp. His assertion that she could be who she wanted rang hollow. What she wanted was to be out there running through the woods with him again. Instead she was looking through hideous gowns, being forced into a mold she didn’t fit. A horrible, lacy, washed-out one.
Kara chewed the side of her thumb, her insides leaden. It wasn’t a surprise, not really. Albanach… Cal had laid it out; she’d been bred to be the receptacle for Flynn’s heir. North, South, it didn’t matter, and neither did she past her womb. Her value boiled down to her ability to breed.
She brushed a tear off her cheek, trying to swallow her hurt. No. That wasn’t true. Flynn wasn’t like that…but when she thought of how happy he was about their offspring, her stomach clenched.
Kara kicked herself. Stop it. It’d been inevitable, and he’d promised he wouldn’t put her aside. She wouldn’t go back to the mouse she’d been at the Source. As long as Flynn never saw her like that, she didn’t care about the rest. She could fit into this world, regardless of what she was wearing. Taking a deep breath, she stood and flipped through the gowns again, resigned to playing the game.
All of them were frilly and horrible like that nightgown had been. How could anyone stand being swathed in all of this? Velvet, taffeta… Kara pulled out the least offensive. An insipid, celery-green silk travesty. She took a deep breath and went to find the bathroom.
The stairs creaked as she ascended them to a wide landing at the top. The flowered wallpaper was in burgundy and pinks, dark woodwork gleaming against it. A Queen Anne chair in worn navy velvet stood before a voluminous lace-curtain backdrop. The vista beyond those same mountains Kara had admired from the brass bed. Beside the window, a footed pedestal table held a thick tome on a bookstand. Fixed in time… It was all so weird. How old was this place?
Her fingers moved over the tasseled satin marker to wafer-thin pages edged in gold. She’d never seen such a beautiful book. A passage had been carefully underlined and there were exacting notes in the margins.
…but I discipline my body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified…
Frowning, she turned away to find the bathroom. A deep, clawfoot tub with a fuzzy pink scatter rug was behind the second door she tried. Kara showered and tried to change. After struggling for far too long with the miserable garment, she threw it to the floor and pulled her jeans back on. Sitting on the crochet-covered toilet seat, she tried to collect herself, dashing the tears from her lashes. It didn’t matter. Flynn wouldn’t care.
She picked up the hateful gown and went to find his room.
The attic was a large open space, roughly half the size of the house below, and lit by more of those glowing spheres. Above, the roof slanted sharply. Flynn would only be able stand up straight if he walked down the center. Four gabled windows faced out, two to the east, and two to the west, giving a breathtaking view of the setting sun. Kara sat down on the end of the sagging bed, watching it as she dried her hair.
“Best view in the house,” Flynn said, coming up the stairs. He wore a blue dress jacket that pulled at the shoulders. Beneath it was a crisp white shirt, buttoned all the way up and a cravat, intricately tied at his throat. He’d slicked back his wavy hair, and his hands were shoved into the pockets of too-short fawn-colored trousers. Who was this man?
Kara’s brows creased at his expression.
“I’m sure Miriam gave you an earful. I should’ve known better than to ask you to do that. It’s just… It was right with you.” He swallowed, the pain in his voice breaking her heart. “But I’m the heir. I have to act like it.”
Tears pricked Kara’s eyes. His face screwed up, and he ran a hand over his jaw, clamping down harder on the link between them.
A surge of panic replaced her awareness of him. Why would he do that?
He glanced at the crumpled gown on the end of the bed, frowning.
“It didn’t fit.” She bit the inside of her cheek, her voice thick.
A suggestion of a nod. “Come on, everyone’s waiting.”
Bereft at being unable to feel him, she meekly trailed down the steps in his wake.
An older, militant version of Flynn waiting for them when they got to the first floor. Glory… Kara stared, not questioning that this was his father. The resemblance between them was uncanny.
“S’about time, we’ve been waiting on you,” Lot snapped, openly appraising her. Flynn stiffened, and she abruptly understood why he grew a beard. “Where’s her halos?”
Flynn’s jaw flexed. “I forgot.” Barely brushing her cheek, his own sprang into view. Her desire leapt and she took a step toward him. He turned away, looking pained.
Kara moved back from them, her pulse loud in her ears. First Miriam, and now this? Lot snorted in contempt, blatantly assessing her. She fought her panic. It was just like being back at the Source. This man saw her as a commodity.
“Lot, this is Kara.” Flynn’s voice cracked.
His father’s eyes flicked from hers, and he shook his head, his mouth contorting. She shivered, disturbed by the facsimile of Flynn’s features so scornful and cold. “You fucking forgot. She’s a goddamned twist. If that just doesn’t just take the cake.”
Kara focused on her hands, tears welling. Not just a commodity, a defective one. North, South, it was all the same…
People had come into the hall and were staring at them. There were too many eyes on her. The link to Flynn ended in a void, and he just stood there with his hands in his pockets.
Turning, she fled.
Flynn’s cloak on his emotions went up in a torrent of fury. He grabbed Lot by his lapels and jacked him up against the wall before Kara had cleared the first flight of steps. The center seam of his borrowed jacket tore, his father’s head snapping back hard enough to shake photos from the wall. They shattered against the oaken floor like bombs.
“Laughlin!” Miriam shrilled.
He gritted his teeth, breathing hard, inches from his father’s face. This motherfucker… His hold on his temper was tenuous at best, and the asshole just smirked, daring him to do something. Flynn’s eyes scrunched shut, picturing the man’s innards splattered across the hallway. Saliva pooled, his stomach fluttering in anticipation.
“Laughlin James Scot, you put him down this instant! I will not abide this behavior!”
Flynn’s fists clenched in Lot’s shirt, not giving a fuck. All it would take was a quick upwards blow, then a wrenching snap to the side?—
An abrupt outpouring of Kara’s sorrow through their bond doused his rage, and he pulled back like he’d been burnt. Christ, she must’ve made it back up to the room and lost it. She needed him. He dropped Lot, and the man stumbled as his feet hit the floor .
“Call her one more fucking name, you piece of shit, and I won’t just break your face, I’ll fucking end you.” He glared at him a moment longer, then turned to the rest of them. “I’ll do what you want me to do, but any of you says one more goddamned word to upset her, I’m out.”
Ignoring the amusement in Lot’s eyes, Flynn stalked back upstairs, wishing he’d buried the son of a bitch. He ripped off the ruined jacket and threw it to the floor. The fucking cravat was right behind it. Buttons flew as he tore at his collar, trying to breathe.
Kara was curled up in one of the attic dormers, her face streaked with tears. He pulled her into his lap, moaning in dismay. Her hair was still damp, and it was freezing by the window.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I let them get to me, it was wrong. Fuck Kara, I didn’t mean… I swear to God, I wish I was a fucking twist, then I wouldn’t have to pretend. That chase earlier… that’s how Breakers mate. It’s why they all freaked out,” he said brokenly, rocking her in his arms. Christ, he’d just wanted to feel that once with her…
Fuck. That was a lie. That was how he always wanted to feel with her. She looked up at him, eyes brimming. His chest tightened with the need to hurt someone.
“Miriam said?—”
“What, that I won’t be the heir? Good. They can fucking have it.” He ripped the cuff off and threw it across the room. It hit the far wall with a dull clang.
“It doesn’t mean shit to me, Kara. I’m only up here to keep you safe. I’m sure as hell not gonna make the both of us miserable while I do it.” He picked her up and brought her to the bed, pulling a quilt up over them. She’d get sick sitting there with wet hair.
Kara snuggled up beneath his chin, shivering. “That man hates me.”
He snorted. “Lot hates everyone, and the feeling is mutual. I told you, he’s an asshole. I should’ve hit him harder last time.” Fuck, he should’ve ended him just now. Flynn brushed the hair from her face. Damn, if he could just take her away from here, go west?—
She took his wrist in her hands, tracing the wide green band stained onto his skin. It seemed prophetic. They weren’t going anywhere with a kid. Neither one of them could run away from this.
“I feel like things would be easier for you if I didn’t exist,” she whispered.
He snorted. Nothing had ever been easy for him. “It’s not you.” All this shit had been waiting, and wasn’t even half of it. Fuck, how could he tell her about tomorrow? Kara snuggled closer, so fucking fragile. Christ, he was an asshole… His chest got tight again, a big part of that was all on him, but he felt something else weighing on her.
“Lot’s not all of it, is he?”
She shook her head, pressing against him. “There’s something wrong with my Talent. I can’t pull what I should be able to. Trying makes me so sick… I can’t bind up what I’m feeling and shove it away anymore, it takes too much.”
Flynn closed his eyes. That weird numbness, her mood swing in the parking lot of the Pinion… “You’ve been coercing yourself not to feel things. I thought you said it doesn’t work on Talents.”
“It doesn’t.” She sniffled. “Not really. You have to want it and it just makes things seem distant, for a little while anyways… I just kind of kept doing it.”
He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to control his rage. How the fuck could Cal leave her, leave any Talent, down there? It was a stupid fucking question. Christ, he’d turned the same blind eye to all the shit that’d gone on up here. “So what now?”
“If I can’t refresh myself? Whatever’s back there will start coming out. I-I don’t remember all of it. Some of it is so old…but none of it’s good.” She played with the remaining buttons on his borrowed shirt, avoiding his eyes. “No one could see me as a threat. When I had to leave the tower… Other Talents weren’t kind to me. I couldn’t hide my halos, and Riegel—I’m not good with a lot of people…being noticed, judged… They all looked at me the way Lot did, like I’m defective.”
Flynn stroked her hair, trying to tamp down his anger, hearing what she wasn’t saying. Thinking about the circus she was about to be thrown into. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “It is what it is, but I wanted out here to be different. ”
“It will be.” He didn’t know how the fuck he’d make that happen, but there wasn’t a chance in hell Kara—or their kids—were gonna feel like less for being duals. She smiled up at him, feeling his conviction. His stomach rumbled, and he grinned sheepishly at her laugh.
“Shit, I’m starving. You ready to go down for dinner?”
“No, can’t we just hide up here forever?”
“I wish.” He kissed her softly. She nipped his lip as he went to pull away, twining her fingers in his hair. “Yeah? After all that?”
“Make it go away, please. You know how…”
He inhaled the perfume of her skin, feeling her need echoing his own.
Dinner would have to wait.
Cal stood at the dining room window, smoking a big black cigar and ignoring Miriam’s sniffles, her eyes red from crying. The rest of the family sat around the table watching dinner congeal. Leo glanced up at the ceiling, disgusted.
“They’re back at it. I’m not sticking around.”
“Sit your ass down, Arileo,” Cal snapped. “Start eating. Your mother worked hard on this.”
Leo shot him a sullen glare but did as he was told. “This must be why Breakers go into seclusion for a week after they bond,” he muttered.
“Don’t start!” Miriam shrilled. “We’ve enough to deal with without you adding fuel to the fire. I won’t have you saying that about Laughlin. Don’t you even think it.”
Leo rolled his eyes and grabbed a roll.
“You know, it’s not like I said anything that wasn’t true. That girl’s gonna have to toughen up if that’s all it takes for her to run out of a room. Boy was outta line,” Lot grumbled, reaching for the chicken. Everyone at the table looked at him like he was an idiot.
Cal frowned at the man. He’d always been a liability, and they couldn’t afford for him to be with this. “The Source deemed it a breeding flaw, and I’ll be damned if any of you refer to it as anything other than that. Do I make myself clear? Furthermore, Miriam’s right. If I hear any of you insinuate that Flynn’s a dual, I’ll cut you off. It’s bad enough we’re gonna deal with that shit up north, I won’t stand for from any of you. Now eat.” He pulled out his chair, smoking furiously.
Jon rattled off the Blessing, and the rest of them passed bowls around the table. They ate in begrudging silence.
Cal watched the minutes tick past on the big clock over the mantle. He rolled the ash off his cigar, feeling like shit about what he’d said to Flynn earlier, but dammit, it needed to be said. He’d hoped the boy would’ve come back with his head screwed on straight. Instead, he’d come back a whole different flavor of fucked up. There was no doubt he was capable of killing his father, and Cal hoped the man realized it. The boy had already laid him out once, you would’ve thought Lot had learned his lesson after having his jaw wired shut.
Flynn cleared his throat at the door. “If you’re all still amiable?” He stood there mussing his hair, another bite mark peeking out of his collar. That was gonna need to be addressed, but now sure as hell wasn’t the time to do it.
Miriam gave a choked sob, and Flynn had the decency to look chagrined. He glanced at the empty chair at the head of the table and reached back into the hall to take Kara’s hand. A surge of pride went through Cal as she walked over. All of this had to be hard for her.
Everyone stood, and Flynn cleared his throat, putting a hand on the back of his chair to steady himself. He gave Kara a smile. It was plain how they felt about each other. Cal never thought he’d see the day, pull or no. God help them, he didn’t know if that would make what was coming easier or harder.
“I’ve taken responsibility for this woman and bonded Kara Jester as my wife. I, Laughlin James Scot, come to Introduce her to my House, before my line.” Turning to Cal, he worked around the table. “Kara, this is my grandfather, Caliban, and his two sons, my father, Adlothian, and my uncle, Johannes. He’s married to my aunt, Miriam. These are their children, my cousins, Arileo, his brother Grantham, and their sister, Shelby.”
Kara repeated back the family tree, walking over to each member, meeting their eyes, and greeting them with a solemn kiss on both cheeks. When she’d completed the circuit, Flynn took her hand. The grin on his face was infectious.
“This is my wife, Kara Scot.” Bending, he kissed her, their halos cloaked when he pulled away. Kara turned crimson as they sat, the ceremony complete.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Miriam asked. “Now if we can just convince Laughlin to shave that thing off his face, we’ll be all set for the formal Introduction at Meddleton.”
Flynn scratched his chin, muttering something rude, and Cal snickered at their long-standing argument.
“Just wait until you have all twenty-seven Houses to recite. People are gonna shit over those halos.” Leo laughed, shoving a potato into his mouth. Miriam shooshed him with a flick of her napkin. Woman was a terror with linens.
Cal sighed at the raunchy comment. “Don’t be crude.”
Leo rolled his eyes, choking down the potato like a snake. Kara took the plate of chicken from Shelby, thanking the girl for lending her the dresses. Shelby blushed, apologizing that none had fit. Two of them would get on fine.
“No!” Jon gasped, his eyebrows shooting up at whatever Miriam had been saying. “She broke his nose?” He laughed heartily. “Oh, I would’ve paid good money to see that, think she’ll do it again?” Kara blushed at his good-natured teasing.
Cal took one last drag of his cigar, eyeing his son as he snuffed it out. Several years older than Lot and fully grey, Jon was brilliant. If it weren’t for his damn anxiety, he’d still be heir, and things would be a hell of a lot different.
Cal reached for a biscuit and snorted. “Think you’re out of luck there, Jonny boy.”
Lot stared at Kara with open amusement. He was the other end of the spectrum. The only similarities Cal’s sons shared were their last name and a noticeably receding hairline.
“Brought home a hellcat, did you?” The boy concentrated on his meat. “I ever tell you about the time your mother slapped the dignitary from Southern Irappa? Man made the mistake of asking her if she had my permission to negotiate.” Flynn froze mid-chew. Lot never spoke about Deirdre. The rest of the table had gone still as well.
“She tried to be diplomatic about it, but when he offered her a position as one of his concubines, she let him have it. Woman was in a fury for a week after that, must’ve taken at least that long for the handprint to fade from his face.” Lot studied his plate, pushing a carrot around. He stood, his dark eyes glassy. “Meddleton’s yours. She would’ve wanted you to have it.”
He left the room in shocked silence. Cal stared after him. Too much depended on Lot and Flynn cooperating. Lot would play ball, though he’d be a miserable ass about it. Cal wasn’t sure about Flynn. He’d always been a wildcard. God help them all if Kara wasn’t enough of a leash on him.
“Well, I’d say that was a big step in the right direction,” Jon said, reaching for more potatoes.
Miriam shushed him, her brow furrowed with concern. “Laughlin?”
He dropped his gaze to his plate for a moment, then forced a smile for her. “I’m fine, Miriam. It’s just been a long day.”
She nodded and slapped Graham’s hand as he reached for the salt. “Don’t you dare.”
Leo snickered at his brother’s eye-roll. “So, the train leaves at seven?” he asked, lazing back in his chair.
Cal relit his cigar. “No, we’re taking the five. The less people around, the better. It’s gonna be a circus as it is. Locals have started making themselves scarce, and I’ve got a call in to the Assembly. Hamlin’s turning into a goddamn staging area for the Sons. The sooner we’re on our way, the better.”
Kara looked at Flynn, her face anxious. Boy ran a hand over his jaw, pretending not to see it. Bet he still hadn’t told her about what she was walking into.
Cal couldn’t blame him for pushing it off. He should give him something to look forward to. “French signed back on.”
Flynn smiled broadly at that. He’d always had an odd attachment to the man. “Anyone else? ”
“Quite a few, as a matter of fact.” Jon turned to Kara. “Flynn was always quite popular with the servants.”
Leo snorted and Flynn looked like he wanted to hit him. Kara glanced between them. He hadn’t told her about that either. Cal didn’t envy him, or her getting thrown into things, but she’d pick it up quick. He hoped. One thing was certain, being bonded to Flynn, she was gonna need to get used to being the center of attention. Tomorrow’d be a good litmus test.
Cal was going to pray like hell they both passed.
Flynn carried the last of the dishes into the kitchen. Miriam was drizzling fresh cherries and sauce over slices of cheesecake. He swiped a finger of the stuff from her bowl and popped it into his mouth. Damn, that was delicious. She clucked her tongue, preening at his appreciative grunt before hipping him out of her way.
“Knock that off, Laughlin James. I’ve got a slice here with your name on it.”
“See, it’s big enough to write out the whole thing,” Jon teased, loading the plates onto a tray. Flynn snagged it, not about to stand on ceremony where Miriam’s cheesecake was concerned. He took a big bite and followed them back into the dining room.
“Who wants coffee?” he asked around his mouthful. There were several takers, and he went to the service on the sideboard and poured, then passed cups around. Sitting down with one for himself, he dug into his dessert in earnest. It was rich and creamy, tangy, and sweet all at once. Christ, he’d missed this. All conversation stopped for a while.
“Y-you know,” Jon began timidly, when he’d finished. “Scientific theory regarding the pull is quite interesting. Most speculate that an innate diametric affinity is required.”
Miriam took in Kara’s glazed look with a laugh. “What he’s saying, dear, is that you and Laughlin are soulmates. Two halves of a whole. It’s so very romantic.” She tittered.
“That’s not what I said, Miriam. I said?—”
“Soulmates,” Miriam asserted, giving Kara a conspiratorial wink .
“It’s like a fairytale,” Shelby murmured dreamily, her elfin face serene.
“Yeah, Beauty and the Beast,” Leo snarked from behind his glass of scotch.
Flynn snorted. He could live with that. Kara pushed him the last of her slice, watching him eat it with a bemused expression. He grinned at her, popping a bit of crust into his mouth. She shook her head, cheek dimpling.
Miriam and Graham were arguing about which material made the best cookware. Shelby and Leo were playing some game which involved sleight of hand and guessing. Cal and Jon were discussing the pros and cons of Langstroth hives at their elevation. The tension in the room had left with Lot, and now there was just the sense of ease that came with familiarity.
He’d missed this. Flynn sat with a smile on his face, finishing his coffee. He ran a lazy hand through his hair then down to scratch under his chin. His stubble was starting to look more like a beard. Kara reached over, brushing a crumb from it with her thumb. His eyes locked on hers, and he kissed her palm, feeling her shiver.
“Ugh, you two need to get a room. Again.” Leo groaned. Miriam gave the two of them a hard look, and Shelby was as red as a beet.
So was Kara. Goddamn, he loved that.
Grinning, he pulled her to him as he stood. “If you insist. Thank you, Miriam, everything was wonderful.” He took Kara’s hand and led her back up to his attic room.
“No offense, but I’m glad that’s over,” she said, sitting on the bed. Flynn laughed, kicking off his boots and unbuttoning his shirt. He flashed her a grin over his shoulder, the heat of her eyes on him.
She shook out her hair, letting it fall around her, hiding her expression. The mattress shifted under his weight as his arms encircled her waist. She raised her lips to his, offering up the taste of coffee and cherries on her tongue, and he lost himself.
Riegel’s consciousness churned in a violent effluence of agony. His muscles jumped and spasmed with a primal burn to move, jerking him from the respite of oblivion. He’d lost all track of time, despite his head rapidly ticking to the side like a bizarre clock. The twitches ravaged his body, cleaving searing-molten paths of neural impulses in their wake. An electrical storm within his flesh, he rode lightning.
That his greatest tormenter was his own biology was a victory of sorts. Though Ielle had kept her promise to make him scream. Strapped to a rack in one of Titus’s interrogation rooms deep in the bowels of the tower, a great deal of Riegel’s flesh had been stripped off and fed to a mutie. The Binder that’d been summoned to the bespattered cement cell had vomited.
Riegel hung upside-down in darkness, with nothing to distract him from his weeping sores and the torment of the twitches. His throat, merely raw after what she’d inflicted upon him, was now incapable of articulation.
At some point he’d pissed himself, the hot, stinking fluid searing over his flayed torso. He’d briefly passed out from the pain, the twitches reviving him as urine dripped across his scalp to the blood-stained floor below. He’d hung there long enough for his bladder to fill up again. The knowledge of what would happen when he couldn’t hold it anymore was its own kind of torture.
Carefree footsteps skipped down the hall. Riegel flinched as light flooded the room, blinding him. The rack swung upright, blood rushing from his head, further disorientating him. He retched hollowly, nothing in his stomach to come up. A sharp jab spiked his thigh, an icy paralysis spreading from its prick.
With it came focus. Ielle stood beaming beatifically before him, brandishing a hypodermic in her upraised hand. “How are we, darling? Do you remember this one? You once left me for three days whilst you were fucking that little doe-eyed slat in legal. Do you know how long you’ve been here? Eight hours.” Ielle grinned at him and sniffed.
“Wet yourself already? I’ll let you in on a secret, Rie. You’re going to want to hold it as long as you can and then lap it up while it’s still wet. You can just reach your chest if you really, really try. But enough pointers, I have exciting news!” Ielle poured herself a glass of water from a pitcher she’d brought, beaded with moisture. He lunged at her as she tipped it back, the muscles in her slender throat sliding smoothly with each languorous swallow.
“Do try to be civilized, Rie.” She smiled as his eyes followed her placing the empty glass on the table scattered with gory implements and bits of flesh. Her hand caught him across the face, commanding his attention. “That’s better, darling. I need you to focus on what I have to say. Did you know there’s an entire city full of Talents in the North? It’s called Glynfyls, and its newest resident is soon to be our own little Karabelle. You’ll be pleased to know she’s done ever so well for herself. She’s bonded the Northern Territory’s most eligible bachelor, whom I hear is absolutely dreamy, and if rumor’s to be believed, already bred with his child.”
Riegel’s rage, which he’d thought had deserted him, flared anew, burning through the effects of the paralytic. That someone else should have his prize was intolerable. Straining against his bonds, the sores around his restraints cracked and wept. A bolt pinged to the floor.
Ielle laughed. “All your scheming for naught, and that’s not even the best part! Your labs came back.” She smiled broadly, a look of absolute satisfaction on her face. “Not only has your talent fizzled, you’ve tested sterile. You never would’ve been able to breed her. Titus has removed you from the stud roster and is letting me play with you until I get bored.”
His body went slack. What? That was impossible.
Ielle smiled, patting his cheek affectionately. “Don’t worry, Rie, that will take ever so long to happen.” She laughed again, spinning the rack around before locking it into position.
“Two and a half more days, darling,” she called over her shoulder, leaving him in darkness.
He slumped, shoulders burning from the strain. The short reprieve from whatever she’d injected him with gone, his left index finger striking like a jackhammer against the steel rack. Riegel wept. Great wracking sobs, not caring about the moisture he was losing.
Dying of thirst would be a kindness.