Chapter 21 Thor
Thor
The smell of her tears made my beast lift his head. The female had her face buried in her arms, though she didn’t move. Her tears were silent, but they were there.
She wasn’t harmed, that I could tell. The other watcher’s words replayed in my mind. You couldn’t be touched, he said to her. He wouldn’t allow it.
The female raised her head, wiped her tears away, and stared into the darkness of the prison. The fire that’d been in her eyes before was gone; there was nothing in her expression that gave away her thoughts or emotions, if she felt anything anymore. It didn’t take long to be broken in the cages.
Blood and pain hadn’t broken her, but the threat of harm onto us did.
I watched as she ran a hand through her tangled, dark hair.
The sweetness of her scent was muted, but I recognised it as easily as I did the others.
But there was something different in her scent now.
A change I couldn’t identify. Where it’d once been sharp with the presence of power, there was nothing. Like it’d been dulled.
One of the prisoners in the other cages tapped their bars. The female glanced over at the males, nothing in her expression changing. No words were exchanged—had she been scared into complying with the watchers?
The one who’d threatened her was gone. The beast knew him as the punisher. His scent was rotten, too, like death clung to him. In his eyes was no light, no life. Just the darkness he liked to pass on to the creatures under his watch.
The prisoner tapped again. I tore my eyes off the female to take the other cage in. The one tapping was a male with dirty golden hair. He was staring directly at the female like he wanted to share something.
But the female shook her head, lowering her face to the crook of her elbow once more. The tears didn’t come again, though she remained quiet—still.
The doors leading down to the Pit slammed open. The beasts in the cages closest hid themselves from the wrath of Watcher and his companion. It was not the punisher who walked with him, but an unfamiliar male.
No, not unfamiliar. I recognised him as the winged male Watcher stole from the female beside me. He was the one who dragged her to the cages.
My chest burned with rage towards the male. A hatred that made no sense to me or my beast. He hadn’t hurt us, but he hurt her. And to my beast, that was enough to want his blood.
Watcher slowed as he checked the cages. A cruel smile twisted his lips as he tapped the end of his whip against the bars.
“Which one…” he murmured, stopping by the door of another bear.
This one was white, trapped in unforgiving heat.
She wasn’t allowed out of her cage often, only for testing—or breeding.
She stayed down, resting her head on her paws. Even from this distance, my beast could tell she was sickly. Not like she’d been taken to the breeding cages. It was something different. Rotten.
The female prisoner shifted quietly; from the corner of my eye, I watched as she lifted her head to take in Watcher and the winged male standing over the female shifter.
Her dark eyes narrowed on the winged male, anger burning within them.
It appeared, for just a moment, like she might try and say something to him.
Watcher made a sound in the back of his throat and shook his head. “Won’t put up much of a fight,” he muttered. “The females never do.”
Disgust filled me at his words, at the darkness behind them. Those words had the prisoner beside me stiffening.
“Tell me, Nash, who do you think will fare well in the Pit?” Watcher’s bloodthirsty gaze moved to me, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he ran his eyes over me. “Thor does well. Vicious. A real beast. Some call him God of the Pit for how easily he takes down his opponents.”
No. I give them mercy. But I offered Watcher no reaction. Showed him no sign of understanding.
That didn’t deter him. He stalked towards my cage, the winged male following. “See—” Watcher slammed the butt of his whip into the bars of the cage, the smell of burnt leather filling my nose. The scent was almost enough to overwhelm the sweet aroma of the female.
The female didn’t move, but she stilled at their arrival. Her eyes moved to me. Her expression revealed nothing. She understood his words, knew what they meant.
They meant I was a monster. A weapon.
What would she say if she knew they sent me to kill her?
That he wanted me to tear her apart?
To feast on her blood?
Those urges were gone, now. But they’d been there.
Even when my beast so desperately wanted to protect her.
To claim her.
“Thor likes to pretend he’s a good boy, but he likes the taste of blood.
Want to know how many he’s taken out?” Watcher glanced between the winged male, then directed his stare at the female.
Still, she didn’t flinch. She didn’t respond.
“His count is forty-three. Forty-three fellow shifters have fallen thanks to him. That’s why he’s the best.”
Watcher took his eyes off her for a moment, just long enough for her to shudder. It made my chest hurt. I didn’t want her to fear me.
It took too much strength to remain still. To not show him my anger.
“He’s good for an execution,” Watcher added, putting his whip away.
“We don’t need any deaths. The King wants to keep the army well trained and alive.
Keep the shifters in fighting order. There’s no one strong enough to take Thor, anyway.
Well, except for the monster we pulled out of the Old World. ”
Watcher shook his head, and without another word, he moved towards the other end of the prison where the wolves were kept. Some of the more…feral beasts were hidden in the darkness there.
As he left, I took in the female again. Her eyes followed the retreating pair, cheeks flushed with anger. It tinged her scent. I could almost see her vibrating with the emotion.
I didn’t understand it. The male was clearly not alone in his mind, like many of the soldiers here in the prison.
He used his power regularly on those who might try to oppose them.
Guards would change; one day, they would have light in their eyes, would question the methods of the king and those within his direct command, but the next, there would be nothing.
The dullness in their expressions meant he’d learned their thoughts and wiped them from the soldiers’ heads.
But perhaps the female prisoner didn’t know that. When they were out of sight, she finally pulled her eyes away from the shadows they’d disappeared into, casting her stare to the floor of her cage once more.
My beast wanted to feel her gaze upon him again. And yet, he didn’t want to see fear in her eyes. She’d feared the words Watcher used to describe our role in the Pit.
Maybe I should have felt guilt, but I couldn’t. For those of us trapped, death was better than fighting for him.
She could see that, too.
But that didn’t mean she should have to suffer like us. That she should die like we would.
My beast didn’t like the idea of her dying. Of her suffering.
That was not a fate we wished upon her.
And I would do anything to ensure she never would.