Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
The air in the secret dungeon where our captors held Torin and me as prisoners was heavy and damp, thick with the scent of mildew and decay.
Layers of grime, dirt, and moisture covered the rough-hewn stones of the walls.
Water slipped through the cracks, leaving dark stains, and moss grew along the edges.
The rusty old lanterns on the other side of the thick metal prison door lit the inside of my new reality, casting frightening shadows that hid the secrets and horrors that happened long ago.
The small, barred window in the massive entry was our light source, offering nothing more than a cruel reminder of freedom out of reach.
The distant dripping water echoed through the corridors, adding to the symphony of despair of my heart beating. The stomping of footsteps reverberated through the cold stone corridors, sending a cold chill down my spine.
Taking a few short breaths did nothing for my shot nerves, except that I inhaled the scent of mold and decay.
Scratches and etchings adorned the walls of our prison cell, a testament to the longing of those who came before us. Even if my father, the werewolf King, didn’t know about the tortures here, his werewolf ancestors had done the unthinkable.
No one knew the large extent of the underground labyrinth shrouded in darkness and mystery. A place of desperation designed to break the spirits of those unfortunate enough to be confined within its walls.
It was the same place where we hid the kingdom people from the dark witch when she attacked our territory with her army of demonic-looking creatures.
Following the werewolf traitors who plotted Torin’s assassination, Torin and I had gone through the complex network of winding routes and interconnected tunnels only to be imprisoned in this dungeon.
Living in the supernatural world brought me and those around me danger and death, and the Fates knew I did everything I could to escape the werewolf kingdom and live among the humans.
Only a few werewolves knew about the secret tunnels underneath and around the kingdom and were not coming to our rescue.
Even Dad didn’t know the extent of the tunnels or the horror of the torture chamber devices.
Torin deserved a better life in the kingdom—not many werewolves agreed with me on this idea.
The low ceiling in the cell pressed down on me, making every inch feel claustrophobic. The cold floor beneath my feet felt rough and uneven. The air grew colder, causing my breath to form visible clouds, and a chilling draft whispered through the narrow passages.
The rain still soaked my clothes, and the lower temperatures in the dungeon made me shiver. Torin and I were left in the secret prison to grapple with our fears, doubts, and inner demons with no means of escape.
Torin’s crimson eyes set on my hand while my blood dripped on the ground. The cut on my palm that Layla had left earlier was raw and throbbing. I waited until the wave of dizziness washed over me and then subsided.
At the first notes of the fragrance of my blood, Torin had shifted into his vampire, wanting to taste me, hungry and desperate.
Torin’s father was the Alpha of Mark’s pack. Even though it was a century ago, Torin could still claim his birthright and challenge Mark for the Alpha position. As a half werewolf, half vampire, Torin possessed the strength and speed of both species, bringing more fear to Mark’s insecurities.
Since I was first thrust back into the supernatural world in London when I discovered the access point to my dream realm, I faced several similar moments when my end seemed close.
And yet, here I was.
I straightened my shoulders and lifted my gaze to finally look at Torin’s crimson eyes, ablaze with an insatiable hunger. His vampire form would always amaze me, both mesmerizing and terrifying.
His softer human features had sharpened.
Torin’s fangs were elongated, razor sharp.
Primal instinct coursed through his veins, and emotions raged behind his red eyes.
Fear for my well-being flickered behind his gaze, but his overwhelming desire for my blood threatened to extinguish it.
He looked tortured, his inner turmoil etched on his face.
The silver poisoning had weakened Torin’s vampire in the dungeon last night. It had weakened his willpower, too.
“You need my blood to replenish your vampire strength and energy,” I said.
He usually drank the blood of the people he fought when ordered to complete special missions. My mate must have been starving, and I was the only prey in sight. And his thirst for me had only amplified, my blood smelling more delicious since my scent was more prominent to him.
Our mate bond—a trigger and a curse—intensified Torin’s emotions and hunger for me.
“Torin, you can drink from me,” I whispered.
His eyes grew big, and then anger flashed behind them. He glued his back to the wall and watched me with an intense gaze, signaling that no matter how much he desired me, he wouldn’t approach me. Torin only shook his head.
His mind battled between his desire to protect me and the undeniable craving to taste my essence. If Torin tasted me, he would never forgive himself. The painful expression on his face belonged to that of a man filled with self-loathing and drowned in guilt.
He had made it clear how much he hated his vampire side and did not want to taste my blood. How much would it hurt Torin to live with the thought of having killed his own mate? That was his worst fate, living with guilt for eternity.
But he wouldn’t hurt me, and somehow, I had to convince him of that.
“No, Anna. Stay back,” Torin said in a strained voice.
“But I can’t watch you in so much pain. I’m willing to take the risk. It’s better this way than watching you fight yourself,” I said.
He took deep breaths, his chest heaving. “My vampire senses are so heightened to an excruciating degree that I can hear the accelerated beating of your heart and the blood rushing in your veins.”
He licked his lips and cracked his neck from side to side.
“Your blood fills the air with an intoxicating aroma.” He swallowed hard as if his throat had grown parched.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said.
Torin let out a low growl, reverberating deep from his chest, an ominous warning of the monster lurking beneath the surface. But I trusted him because I loved him, and he loved me back.
I extended my arms to him, wanting him to come to me and inviting him in.
“Drink from me to gain your strength to fight Mark and his men,” I said. “You won’t kill me, Torin. You love me.”
After all, he’d chased after me in Los Angeles to make me believe he didn’t kiss Layla.
Torin gave me a serious look. “I’ll keep you safe from the monster I’ve become.”
I groaned at his stubbornness. He believed in the depths of his soul that he could hurt me. But his love for me would help him stop before he drained my blood.
“Please,” I pleaded. “If you don’t drink from me, we won’t be able to get out of here. There are too many for me to take on, and you can’t fight them in this distracted shape, with my blood on your mind.”
My words must have reached some part of Torin’s mind. His chest rose and fell fast now, and he seemed to lose some of his determination. He pushed off the wall and stalked his prey with slow steps.
As Torin drew nearer, a chill coiled through me. He stood before me, trembling with the intensity of his inner battle. Torin fought anxiously to regain control over his thirst.
But he didn’t have to.
“Torin, your love for me will keep your humanity on the surface,” I whispered.
His cold fingers gently brushed against my neck, sending sensations to my core. Torin leaned in, his cool breath frosty on my skin, and kissed the crook of my neck while holding my face with both hands. His movements were surprisingly gentle for someone so desperate.
His lips hovered above my throat. Then he licked the spot, and his fangs scraped over my skin. A cold chill ran down my spine.
Time seemed to slow, each second stretching out agonizingly, heightening my senses.
His mouth descended upon my neck in a sudden, swift motion, and his fangs sank into my flesh. The initial pain stabbed with an intense burning sensation, radiating down my arms, turning my fingertips numb.
But the searing pain gave way to a strange, heady pleasure. I couldn’t help but moan, a mixture of agony and ecstasy escaping my lips as Torin savored my essence.
He let out low groans as he gulped my blood.
As his fangs remained embedded in my neck, the world around me faded into a haze. My heartbeat slowed while my body weakened. My energy dwindled, and I swayed, but I pressed against him.
While my mate sucked on my life force, each pull of his lips sent ripples of pleasure coursing through me. This act of passion and possession felt intimate, and my body eagerly responded to my mate, willing to surrender to the awakened desires.
Mark me.
Now would be the perfect opportunity.
Pleasure would replace the initial pain of the marking, so much so that the mated pairs in the kingdom preferred to mark each other in private instead of taking part in the marking ritual offered to everyone by the King.
It would be easy for Torin to cave in and mark me right now. He was already biting me and drinking from me. He only needed the intent of wanting to mark me for the magic to work. His fangs would release the serum, branding me as his forever.
His, my mind repeated until another disturbing desire overtook it.
Torin was mine, and the urge to bite him surged through me. The feeling was so strong that a gasp bubbled in my throat, but my body was too tired to follow through.
The desire to claim Torin, to mark him as mine, coursed through my veins like liquid fire. His earthy scent infused my senses, drawing me closer, compelling me to indulge, making me feel like a starved beast.