Chapter 21
We stand in front of the main entrance of his office building. Malakai pulls out his phone, types something, and pockets it again. A few minutes later, a figure approaches from the other side, and a slightly disheveled Creiddyla unlocks the front door.
“Sir,” she says, stepping aside to let us enter. Her fluffy pink robe is clutched tightly in her hand, and she wears matching pink slippers.
“Thank you, Creiddyla. Please get the Nephilim on standby for cleanup,” Malakai says as we step inside.
“Understood, sir.” She locks the door behind us and swiftly disappears back into the shadows.
Malakai wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him as we walk toward the elevators.
“She lives here?” I ask, glancing back at the spot where Creiddyla vanished.
“There’s an apartment on the first floor where she stays. She’s on standby around the clock in case of break-ins.” He looks at me, a twinkle in his eyes. “Or late-night visits.”
The elevator door dings open, and we step inside, descending to the lowest basement level. Excitement settles low in my stomach, and I give him a sidelong look.
“What else do you have planned for tonight?” I glance down at my blood-smeared white cloak and frown. The fact that Creiddyla didn’t even seem to notice shows how accustomed she is to this chaos. “Hopefully nothing fancy, because this coat is thoroughly ruined.”
Malakai squeezes my shoulder, picking up on the sadness in my voice. “I’ll get you a new one.” His voice drops. “Though seeing you like this, proudly wearing the blood I spilled for you... fuck, it gets me hard,” he purrs, the words igniting a fire within me.
I don’t admit it out loud—Malakai clearly knows already—but the lingering smell of blood between us has the same effect on me, especially in the small, confined space of the elevator cabin.
It’s like a drug injected straight into my veins, heating my face and quickening my breaths.
I barely manage to keep my hands to myself, aching to rip his clothes off.
Stepping out of the elevator, Malakai brings me to a different room and casually opens the door for me, allowing me to step inside before him.
The contrast with the dark hallway couldn’t be greater. The walls inside the room are painted a light ice gray, the floor is white marble, and the bright, almost clinical overhead light throws me off for a second. The tangy, coppery scent of blood is faint yet unmistakable.
All my senses are immediately on high alert, my eyes momentarily struggling to adjust to the brightness.
When they do, they fall on the two women strung up from the ceiling.
Both have soft beige skin—one with a black bob, the other with shoulder-length black hair.
Their skin is nearly translucent, showing the veins underneath.
Clad in black leather trousers and corset tops, their bare feet seem out of place.
My magic instantaneously finds the wounds and the accompanying blood and buzzes in appreciation.
The two inhumans look like animals ready for slaughter.
The ropes cut into their skin, and blood slowly drips from their arms, pooling beneath them.
One woman has a deep cut from wrist to shoulder, while the other bears an open wound in her stomach, her shoulders dislocated.
“Looks like someone already had some fun with them,” I say to Malakai, a teasing smile playing on my lips as I circle the unconscious women.
“I was in a bad mood when I walked in on them.” He shrugs unapologetically.
He closes the door as I take stock of the rest of the room. One wall holds a loaded weapons rack that spans nearly the whole length. A white table stands pushed against another wall, a few chairs stacked next to it.
“What’s the plan?” I ask, feeling giddy with excitement, wondering if this is going to be what he insinuated. If he’s going to let me play.
Malakai removes his overcoat and hangs it over one of the chairs. I follow suit, glad to be out of the still-wet coat.
“Whatever you want, love.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
He nods. “I want to know what you can do. What you’re willing to do. You’ve been curious, so this is your chance—no strings attached.” Malakai smirks.
I bite my lip, nearly bouncing from foot to foot while I look from him to the women, thinking. “Will you teach me how to flay them?” I finally ask, sounding slightly breathless as I spin back to him.
There’s a nearly unnoticeable intake of breath as he seemingly forgets to breathe for a moment, his golden eyes fixed on me. Malakai slowly releases a deep breath, and the way he looks at me upon hearing my request is answer enough.
He takes off his suit jacket, removes the golden cufflinks, placing them on the table, and then proceeds to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt.
A flicker of hesitation, and then he removes his tie as well, neatly folding it and putting it with the rest, his fingers quickly opening the top buttons of his shirt.
Rolling his neck, he casually walks to the weapons rack behind the women. After careful consideration, Malakai selects a small rounded blade and gestures for me to follow him to the woman with the bob haircut.
Positioning myself between the woman and him, Malakai hands me the flaying knife and takes my hand in his.
His chest presses against my back, the heat of his body grounding me.
I don’t know if it’s the influence of his blood magic coursing through my veins, but excitement bubbles inside me, laced with a hint of nervousness.
This is the first time I’ll be causing harm not for the sake of revenge.
“Don’t overthink it,” Malakai whispers in my ear, knowing exactly where my thoughts have wandered off to. He raises my hand, which holds the knife, his other resting comfortably on my hip.
With a snap of his fingers, the woman hangs naked before us, her lean body on full display. Malakai proceeds to guide me to place the knife under her left breast and makes a small cut. “Hold this end.”
I do as instructed, taking the small piece of skin he cuts loose between the fingers of my free hand, not moving the knife in my other hand.
“Pull the strip of skin gently away from the body while you cut. That way, you can’t accidentally cut too deep.”
I nod in understanding, following his instructions. My heart races as I focus on controlling my movements, biting down a smile. Malakai teaching me this feels... nice.
“You have to keep the knife slightly angled like this.” He holds my hand while guiding the knife to show me the proper angle.
“That way, you won’t cut too much muscle.
Cutting too deep makes it harder to remove the skin cleanly.
” I nod, concentrated and mesmerized. “If you cut too deep, they’ll bleed too quickly, which can make your hands slippery. ”
He guides me through the first strip of skin, from below her breast to her thigh. Not once does the woman stir, which tells me his magic keeps her unconscious.
After a second strip, Malakai releases my hand, letting me try it on my own. He wraps his arms around my waist, keeping me close. It’s slightly constricting, but I don’t mind.
The concentration required is exhausting, but it consumes me completely. I’m halfway up her upper body, unaware of how much time has passed, feeling extremely satisfied as I look her over. A deep, gratifying sigh escapes me, and a lightness fills my chest as I relish the sight.
Malakai releases me and moves to the wall across from the door.
He pushes a panel next to the table, and a hidden door clicks open, revealing a mini fridge.
A laugh spills from me at the sight of the water bottles and rows of snacks inside.
It makes sense in the room where Tomyla trains me, but I never expected a torture room to be equipped with these kinds of amenities.
“What?” he says, swapping the knife for a bottle of water and tossing one my way. “You can’t waste valuable time going upstairs when you get thirsty or hungry.”
With my first gulp, I realize just how parched I am, leaving me unable to argue with his logic.
“Can I try something?” I ask after finishing my drink, an idea bubbling to the surface that nearly makes me bounce on my feet.
“Knock yourself out,” Malakai replies, his own bottle dangling between his fingers as he leans back against the table.
He offers me the knife, frowning when I shake my head in rejection. He remains silent, wonder flickering in his eyes at what I’m about to do.
I circle the woman again, my magic reaching out to her, intertwining with Malakai’s to keep her unconscious.
His magic retreats, and she stirs, slowly waking as mine takes over.
Her eyes flutter open, and she tries to speak but finds herself unable to.
Her limbs tense as she realizes she cannot move; my magic both gags and restrains her.
Her eyes widen as they dart from Malakai to me.
Then the pain kicks in, making her eyes roll back as her body spasms—the only movement she can manage.
I raise my hand, conjuring a shimmering ice-blue flaying knife, an exact replica of the one I just practiced with.
“How about,” I say, placing the knife beneath her right breast and slowly cutting the first piece, “combining every cut with just a bit of healing magic?” I guide my magic so the razor-sharp blade sends a healing spark through her with every cut.
It’s enough to keep her on edge but not enough to make her faint.
She squirms under my touch as I cut and heal while Malakai observes from a distance.
I glance over at him from time to time, curious about how it affects him to see me inflict this kind of pain.
His body tenses, muscles straining against his shirt, his eyes darkening with undeniable hunger, his magic yearning to join me in this.
A mischievous smile dances on my lips, knowing I have the same effect on him as he had on me earlier.