Chapter 42
“Show me the mark,” Renz wheezed as he swung the whip.
Jaxom shuddered in agony as it slashed his back. The cuts weren’t deep but painful nonetheless. Renz was in a steady rhythm. Fall of the lash after fall. There was no way to get free. They’d chained him standing up. Arms and legs spread to the walls.
“You’re a stupid son of a bitch.” Renz walked in front of him, slapping his bloody stomach.
Jaxom hunched as far as he could, trying to protect himself.
“If only I’d been able to kill the little runt after Drake found him.
You wouldn’t be here right now. I thought I’d picked competent assassins.
Don’t worry, I have better men out there to finish the job. Now, where is the mark!?”
He couldn’t tell Renz anything. He couldn’t breathe as the whip found skin Renz hadn’t shredded yet.
Jaxom finally huffed in a breath as Renz stepped back.
His ravaged face dark with rage. He hadn’t got more than a handful of words out of Jaxom over the past week.
It had been one horrendously painful week. Renz hated his silence.
The witch had come up with more potions to pour down his throat.
Truth potions, pain potions that cramped his intestines, and ones that sent him into drug induced highs.
It was a war of doing anything to make him talk.
Jaxom had spent years learning to hold his tongue, even to the point of hurting his mates.
There was no way in hell he was going to talk to the desperate little shit.
Holding out on showing the mark was the only card he had left.
Weak legs gave out. Jaxom hung from his wrists.
Muscles and joints protested holding his weight.
Sweat dripped into bloody cuts, stinging even more.
The ever-present wolf’s bane blurred his eyes and screamed through his veins.
The one clear point in his view was the ugly tendril connecting him to Renz.
At moments, he could almost feel it stabbing his heart.
He didn’t always see it, but when he chose to concentrate it was always there, stabbing at him.
It was one connection he never wanted to see again.
The only saving grace, Renz had stopped raping him after the first few nights. Even with his achingly empty stomach, Jaxom wanted to puke at the thought of that man touching him again.
Renz lifted Jaxom’s head up by hair. He winced at the pull, unable to hold his head up himself. Every muscle in his body was useless. Muscles and joints strained as the chains held him up.
He tried to focus blurry eyes on the Maggot King’s face. Even now, the ropy skin hanging from his chin, the red eyes and wrinkled forehead gave Jaxom a small chuckle. He shouldn’t have tried to break what the Moon Goddess intended to be permanent.
Goddess how he missed his mates. The bond was still intact but he couldn’t feel them through the silver, wolf’s bane, and whatever else they’d poured down his throat.
He just wanted to be held and petted and kissed.
Drake’s handsome face floated in front of him.
Visions of Hayden’s lush smile made him lean in for more. He clung to memories like a lifeline.
Claws gripped his jaw and sunk into his cheeks. Jaxom couldn’t stop the scream from rising up out of his throat. Renz leaned in and open mouth kissed Jaxom as he screamed, almost like he was drinking in the pain and reveling in his distress.
“Show me the mark and this all stops. You won’t last much longer even with the witches interference. Show me the mark and die in peace. I’ll make it swift,” Renz whispered in his ears.
Blood dripped down Jaxom’s cheeks from where Renz’ claws pierced him. He sagged in his bonds. He couldn’t take it anymore. Death did sound like a good option. Sweet oblivion to end the pain. Endless pain. No stopping it. No relief. No white willow bark to swallow down and dampen the nerves.
Drake and Hayden must be frantic trying to figure out a way to get to him. If he died, they’d be free to fade into the wilderness, love on each other. Death would solve one part of the pain they were going through. They could mourn and move on.
“One day, I’ll move on your mates. If you keep refusing, this pain you’re in? I’ll make it worse for them.” Drool slid down the Maggot King’s lip. Jaxom shook his head no. Just ‘no’ to all of it.
“Be brave. Save your loved ones the pain. Be a good boy, show me the mark and save them the pain.”
Jaxom wheezed. He couldn’t catch his breath as he hung there and he couldn’t stand up to make it better.
Renz let his face go and stepped back. “Guards, get him in the cell and give his next dose.” He back handed Jaxom, leaving another bruise on his face. “I’ll break you. One day, you will beg to tell me where the death mark is.”
The guards unlocked the chains and Jaxom dropped to the floor.
He couldn’t move. The drop made him bang his chin on the stone.
It was only luck that his tongue wasn’t between his teeth.
Two guards gripped him under his armpits and dragged him to his tiny cell.
The cold seeped in and froze his muscles as he huddled in the corner.
“Arm,” the guard growled. Jaxom shuddered as he tried to stick his arm out through the bars.
Wolf’s bane flooded his body on top of the dose he’d received just a few hours earlier.
He couldn’t stop his body from writhing in pain.
If Hayden and Drake were here, he’d be holding them tight to get some sort of relief.
Hours later, he was finally able to lay still even as the pain continued to rip through him. The relief from constant muscle contractions was immense. He sagged against the bars and closed his eyes.
The dungeon door banged open and a guard held the door for a wolf carrying a woman in sliver. The cuffs came off and they ripped a backpack off her shoulders, throwing it in a corner where a ratty cloak fell on top of it.
The woman screamed as the guard shoved her on a mattress in the other larger cell.
She was banging her body against the wall, picking her nose and yelling something none of them understood.
Mental illness was rare in wolves. Those unfortunates souls were usually placed in asylums and cared for in secret.
A weak pack member, someone unpredictable, was a detriment to a pack. Wolves instinctively avoided them.
Jaxom felt for her. Being mentally unstable and in this place would be terrifying. At least she avoided being raped by the guard. He wouldn’t touch her now that he knew she was touched in the head.
The moment the guard left she stopped rocking and hitting herself and simply cried, soft and low. Jaxom watched her with blurry eyes. She didn’t seem to be as mentally disturbed as she’d shown the rapist guards. She just seemed distressed.
No silver circled her wrists. She was human.
A rarity in this realm. Humans were rare.
They came from the Realm of Rivia. They’d make voyages to Ashling for trade and tourism in some of the port towns.
When the Lycans were around, humans were much more inclined to travel and trade with wolves.
Some Lycans and wolves had even found their mates among the humans.
The Lycans had kept the peace. That trust had dried up after the last Lycan King died.
The woman finally stopped crying. She stood up, tall and willowy. Not as tall as most she-wolves, but tall enough. Her skin was a light caramel color. Straight black hair fell down her back almost touching her bottom. Her clothes were unlike anything Jaxom had seen.
Tight, faded blue pants hugged her thin legs.
Even through the pants, he could tell she was muscular.
Her shirt was two layers. A tight undershirt stopped at mid thigh.
The outer shirt was some sort of see through mesh with flowers embroidered in it.
A V at the neck showed skin. The sleeves gathered at her delicate wrists.
There was no way she was wearing that out in the winter without a coat.
She was shivering as it was right now. Brown leather boots rose up to her knees, hugging her calves.
Everything about her was beautiful and delicate. And apparently, she was sane.
“Are you okay?” he asked her.
Beautiful brown eyes settled on him in surprise. Her brow furrowed as she came to stand near him.
“I’m sorry you’re in here. What happened?” he asked.
She shook her head and squatted down to be eye level with him.
“Ksenia,” she said and pointed to her chest.
“Ksenia? That’s a unique name.” Jaxom slowly pointed at his own chest. “Jaxom.”
“Jaxom,” she repeated and nodded. She said something else but the only word he recognized was his own name in the sentence.
A small silver tendril was stretching out from her towards him.
He didn’t know what to make of it. The tendril was beautiful, especially compared to the others he’d seen so far.
At least this tendril didn’t look like it was going to stab him in the heart.
“You’re not from here, I take it,” he sighed.
She gave him a small smile and went to the mattress.
She dragged it up against the bars separating them and sat down, curling up to keep warm.
She gestured at him to come closer. He wasn’t sure that was a good idea.
However, being able to touch a person and not get hurt seemed like a better idea than huddling, cold, in a corner by himself.
Jaxom rearranged, stuck his arm through the bars and pulled her close to him. His head rested on her shoulder that slid between the bars. That little bit of heat, a hint of comfort, allowed him to slip into sleep. The first time he’d really slept in a week.