Chapter 4
Four
Elaine
Somewhere at the back of my mind, the thought pulsed that I should stay awake.
Now was probably the worst time to fall asleep and hand my life into the hands of the man I knew almost nothing about.
But exhaustion overpowered that thought, luring me into letting go of my worries at least for a moment.
It wasn’t like Timur would kill me. Why would he? He’d just paid a fortune for me, every single coin he’d had apparently. It made no sense for him to slay me and be left with nothing to show for all his gold but my rotting corpse.
He couldn’t rape me, either. As a shadow fae, he had no dick and felt no lust.
Maybe these weren’t the best arguments to let my guard down and leave my life entirely at his mercy, but as soon as I curled up on the grass-woven rug, I fell asleep, and when I woke up, it was already dark.
It’d been a heavy, sweaty sleep with no dreaming, but I remembered taking off my sweater at some point because it got so unbearably hot in here through the day.
Thirst gripped my throat and swelled my tongue to what felt like twice its normal size. I remembered Timur leaving the water bag on the chest by the wall to my left, and I carefully crawled there, feeling my way with my outstretched hands.
I found the bag and emptied it in one big, hungry gulp.
The small amount of the tepid water still left me thirsty, but also in a desperate need of a toilet.
How could my body want to pee and to drink at the same time?
Life would’ve been so much easier if we had some kind of an internal moisture recycling system.
The swishing of the waves outside the thin walls didn’t help. But then, my hearing also caught another sound—a deep, measured breathing.
I recalled the door opening and closing at some point while I slept, but I was too tired to get up or even to fully wake up then. Now, I sat up straighter, wondering what had happened while I slept.
Had Timur left during the day?
Did that mean I was free to come and go as I pleased too? Or did he lock the door while he was gone?
If the door wasn’t locked now, maybe I could sneak past him while he was sleeping? I had no place to go, even if I could leave here. But I really needed to pee, and there was no toilet in this empty hovel.
I carefully crawled forward. The darkness thickened in the spot where Timur’s chair had been when I fell asleep. Was he there now? Sleeping?
“Do my looks not repulse you?” I suddenly remembered his question.
I was so tired when he asked it, the question had barely registered with me then. Now that he seemed to be asleep, I felt more courageous, too, and curiosity stirred in me stronger than fear.
What did he mean by that?
What could possibly be repulsive or even unattractive in any way about a fae’s appearance? Their haughty words and immoral actions were what made me hate them, not their looks.
Every shadow fae I’d ever seen had been strong, muscular, and graceful.
Their wounds healed quickly and without leaving scars.
They were impervious to diseases. Apparently, they didn’t even know what eyeglasses were because they never had a need for them.
Any kind of impairment was unknown to these perfect beings.
“Perfect, until we’re not,” Timur’s words echoed through my brain.
What was that supposed to mean?
I knew next to nothing about the man who now held my life in his hands. If I ever wanted to regain my independence, maybe I should learn more about him, including what he really looked like, and why his appearance caused that self-loathing in him.
When he’d removed his hood last morning, I could only see black and white blotches, along with a faint red glow that could’ve been the result of the heat or maybe the floaters in my eyes. Now, I had a chance to peek at him up close, as long as I remained quiet and didn’t wake him up.
The closer I crawled toward his chair, the stronger my curiosity grew, overpowering even my thirst and the need for the bathroom. Unfortunately, the daylight was now gone. I could barely see where he was sitting. My hearing remained excellent, however, so I followed the sound of his breathing.
I crawled on all fours, with my hands pressing into the packed black sand. With my next move, my right palm landed on the coarse material of Timur’s cloak on the floor. The fabric was old and tattered. I might be a luxury item, but the man who bought me could hardly afford any luxury for himself.
Rising to my knees, I slid my gaze up his legs covered by the equally dark and worn skirt.
The white spinal column was hung over his knee.
Its one end disappeared under the cloak draped over the armrest of his chair.
The other one dangled between his legs. It was tipped with a long sharp bone with spikes on both sides.
When used as a whip, I imagined it could cause some serious damage to an opponent in a fight.
The fae in the auction tent had been lucky that Timur had simply escaped with his prize.
Had he been forced to fight for me, many of them could’ve been hurt with that bone whip of his.
What fantastic creature had he pulled that spinal column out of? That was such a weird weapon choice. But maybe Timur counted on it being weird and unexpected? His opponents’ surprise at seeing it gave him an advantage in a fight.
My gaze traveled higher. From this close, I made out a worn leather belt over his hips that held up his floor-length skirt. Like all shadow fae, he wore no shirt. But unlike many of them, he didn’t even have any mesh or chain armor to cover his torso. His chest and stomach remained completely bare.
Splinters of moonlight filtered through the cracks in the door and blended with the glow of Timur’s skin.
The star-like shimmer highlighted the hard ridges of his muscles, painting a beautiful picture.
I slid my gaze up the perfect landscape of his abdomen, to the hard planes of his chest rising and falling with his even breathing.
As far as I could see, there was nothing wrong with Timur. But when everyone was so perfect, even the slightest imperfection could be considered repulsive.
I remembered the initial shock that Prince Rha had experienced at the sight of Dawn’s mismatched eyes. Apparently, the fact that she had one blue and one brown eye was enough to unsettle Prince Rha, who, like most fae, appreciated symmetry and loved order.
Did Timur mean something trivial as that when he commented on his appearance? Or was he so distraught about having that creepy skeletal hand? That would freak me out too, provided I didn’t imagine it all last morning, exhausted by everything that had happened to me in the past few days.
His cloak draped over his right shoulder, concealing his right arm, right hand, and a part of his chest from my view. His hood was also on, obscuring most of his face.
With his head tilted toward his shoulder, I could only see the left side of his chin and a corner of his mouth. But they were perfect, as was his strong, sharply cut jawline.
What did he think was wrong with his appearance? Just how beautiful did this man want to be? Was he really that vain?
His breathing hitched suddenly. He tossed his head to his other shoulder, muttering, “No, no, no…” under his breath.
I sat back on my heels, afraid to move or even to draw a breath.
Did I wake him up? Did he know I’d been inspecting him while he slept?
“No…” he exhaled in a voice filled with plea. “Not again…”
A whole body shudder ran through him, jerking his legs. He tensed, gripped the armrests of his chair, and roared.
It was a deafening, desperate roar of agony.
He bent over, his hood sliding back. His face lowered to mine, and horror choked me.
There was no skin on the right side of his face.
His forehead, the bridge of his nose, and the right cheekbone were an exposed white bleached skull that didn’t look either human or fae.
His long black hair was streaked with snow white.
Instead of the long pointy ear that all shadow fae had, a hard cluster of spikes was on that side.
A frill of bones and white membrane opened below it like some morbid fan.
A round red eye with a black vertical pupil bulged out wildly from the skull’s lidless eye socket.
He bared his fangs in another roar, so close to my face, his breath blew my hair back.
Terror slammed into me like a physical blow. I scrambled back to the opposite wall, but there was nowhere to run from here. The only exit from this hut remained behind the howling, thrashing beast in the chair across from me.
I was trapped, caged like an animal once again. But I couldn’t stay here. Panic shook me, urging me to flee this horror. Gathering my legs under me, I sprinted for the door, past the chair and the roaring monster in it.
The bone spine whipped across my way, then caught me around my waist. It hauled me onto his lap.
“No!” I yelled, racked with terror. “Let me go!”
His arm went around me, just under my neck, pressing my back to his chest. The bare white bone of his right forearm pressed under my breasts, the claws of his hand digging into my side.
“Stay…stay…stay…” he chanted in a strained growl between shallow labored breaths.
I kicked my feet, hitting his left leg, and he howled in pain again. The spine whip shifted from my waist to my ankles. It wound around my legs, lifting them up and away from his feet.
“Stay…” he rasped hoarsely, then finally managed to wedge two words instead of one between his feral gasps for air. “Stay still.”