Qanek
The flames of The Pit licked at my skin. All around me, I could hear the screams of the tortured, their agony nothing more than a melody that haunted this place of punishment.
For so long, I had looked at this place and watched the souls of the dead be flayed apart by demons and the Lord of Torture himself.
Now, I found myself on the other side. Strung up with magic I could not break free from, with the king himself glaring up at me with unbridled hatred in his eyes.
Lord Kane di Morte was a king I had received a great many deal of my own traits from. His penchant for violence, shadows, and death. His cruelty was my inheritance.
And now, it would be my end.
“I expected nothing from you and still you found a way to disappoint me,” Lord Kane drawled. He appeared bored, though I could see the hatred, the anger, in his dark eyes.
It was a reflection of my own.
“Nothing to say?”
I could not reply.
“That’s fine.” Lord Kane shrugged before he began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “You’ll be screaming in a moment. And I’m going to make you pay for kidnapping and chaining that poor woman up.” A whip materialized in his hand. He unfurled it, jerked it back, preparing to strike…
I finally found my voice.
“She is my wife.”
That gave Lord Kane pause. He stared at me incredulously. “Your wife?” he echoed, shaking his head. “She is no wife of yours.”
My nostrils flared and I jerked against the bindings that kept me on display, but came up short.
“She is my wife,” I repeated. “Mine.”
Lord Kane shook his head. “Real males do not chain up their wives. They don’t hurt them. You are no true husband.”
I growled, jerking against the bindings, and then… I stopped…
“You cannot control your own rage. Instead of regulating your emotions, you chained her up. She was naked, afraid, and harmed because of your own fucking weakness. Pathetic!” He jerked the whip back.
He was right.
The realization was a strike as painful as the whip. My Lord Kane was right. I had called Lucero my wife, and yet at the first sign of strife, instead of speaking with her, I had allowed my rage to conquer me.
I had allowed it to lead my actions. I had vowed to protect her, and yet I had kept her trapped like an animal and she had hurt herself. I had seen the blood. I had seen the terror.
I was a fool.
And I did not deserve her.
But this?
This I did deserve.
I finally slumped in my bindings, ready to accept whatever punishment my lord saw fit.
He chuckled. “You get it now, don’t you?”
Slowly, I nodded.
“Then accept your punishment and know that no matter what pain I inflict, you will always deserve worse for what you did to her.”
And then, the Lord of Torture struck.
And so my punishment began.