Tainted Touch (Not All Men #2)

Prologue

UNKNOWN

“He’s shaking,” someone says. The words scrape through the fog in my head—too sharp, too pleased.

I don’t recognise the voice, but the accent tickles at the back of my mind. It’s not someone from around here—they’d have lost it by now.

“That means it’s working,” he exclaims, and I hear the manic note in his words.

A tendril of fear wraps around my heart, tightening its grip.

Fuck. Not again.

This isn’t going to be good for me. Not if he’s in this kind of mood.

I try to open my eyes, but the light sears through the lids, white-hot, like a blade across my skull.

There’s a tangy taste of iron in the air—copper, maybe. It’s thick, with a metallic power I almost recognise.

My blood, maybe. Or his. It’s his now, right?

The chains wrap tighter with every inhale, the sharp bite deepening with each exhale.

The stone beneath me is slick, coated in sweat, blood, and other things I’ve stopped identifying.

When I move, something tugs at my wrist, then my throat. A drain. Tubes. Claws. I can’t tell anymore.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sun.

Since I could move without pain.

Breathe without choking.

“He won’t last much longer,” the first voice says again—less amused this time.

I thought it would make him angry, but instead, he laughs. Manic. Low. Dramatic.

Fuck, he’s unravelling, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Long enough to do what I need?” he demands.

I groan, resting my head back against the wall, wincing as debris presses into the wound.

“It should be.”

I want to tell him to stop doing what he’s doing. That I’d have helped him if he just asked.

We’re family—that’s what family does.

I want to beg him to get help. To stop doing this to his mate.

To my mate.

But the words die behind my teeth. I’ve forgotten how to sound human. How to stop the animal from taking over.

His knife sings again—a clean, deliberate sound, as he drags it across the furniture just to see me flinch.

There’s no terror left to give him. No fear to make it easier on myself.

Because no matter what, he’s going to hurt me for his own gain—with or without my permission.

The familiar sting of metal slicing into my skin rips a hiss from my throat, and my eyes fly open. I see him—the blood of my blood, the one who was meant to be my protector.

He’s been there since the day I was born. Grooming me. Training me. Offering everything he could.

But somewhere along the way, love turned into ownership. Into obsession.

“I have to drain it,” he says softly, cupping my cheek. His steel blue eyes shimmer with manic wonder. “You understand, don’t you? It’s the only way to keep her safe. The only way to make sure that she stays mine.”

Mine… his.

It’s all the same to this psychotic man, isn’t it?

My blood runs down my arm, pooling at my fingers before dripping into his container. I try to count the drops, anything to stay conscious, but they fall too fast, and my mind gets hazier with each passing second.

Every beat of my heart, every droplet of power… all his for the taking.

“Do you know what she smells like?” he whispers, his voice trembling with reverence. “Even her fear is beautiful. It’s like honey and smoke. You would’ve ruined it. Ruined her.”

My head jerks as his hand fists in my hair. He wants me to speak, to beg, to prove I still care about living.

I’ve been here before, though, and I know there’s no reasoning with the mentally insane.

Instead, I cling to the truth. I won’t cower. I won’t pander to the insanity that has taken hold.

“She’s not yours,” I try to say, but my voice cracks, the words too broken to be heard.

I won’t let her pay for what broke me.

I’ll fight to my death to protect her from it.

Maeve Quinn will never again be tainted by his darkness, touched by his cruelty.

“You’ve always had too much of it,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “Too much power. Too much light. Too much purity. It was never yours to keep.”

My pulse staggers. His breath hits my cheek, rancid with rot and delusion.

“I’ll fix that,” he promises.

The last thing I see before the darkness swallows me is the edge of his blade, slick and red, glinting in the light.

He wants to make me his victim.

But that only works if I stop fighting.

And I can’t—not when her life is still in my hands.