I stare straight ahead at the concrete wall and decline to speak.
“You want me to guess? A game. How quaint. Let’s see… Olivia has experience with the book and, of course, a familial connection, being Morgana’s descendant. Her magic, once she transitions, will be very strong indeed. The younger MacTavish’s tasty new treat is another possibility. Despite being human, she’s both sassy and strong—and clever enough to hide it. And then there is Bram Rion’s very elegant sister, Sabelle. She is quite one of the most beautiful females ever. I would very much enjoy having her bound to my bed, screaming my name.”
That’s my potential mate he’s blithely talking about raping.
White-hot rage explodes through my chest, so intense I nearly black out. The image of Mathias touching even a hair on Sabelle’s head makes me want to tear my restraints apart with my bare hands and rip his throat out. To quell the murderous threat on the tip of my tongue, I bite the inside of my lip so hard I draw blood. Anything I utter in Sabelle’s defense or if I tell him that she has my heart will only paint a target on her back.
“Nothing to say?” Mathias prods.
I close my eyes. Regardless of what the evil wizard says or does, I will not talk. I will not put my princess in further danger.
“Hmm.” Mathias sounds put out. “I understand from Zain that withholding oxygen made you pass out briefly but did little to loosen your tongue. He advises me that he spent an hour nearly crushing your stones to get you to talk.”
Though I grimace at the memory, I still remain quiet. My bloody balls still throb. Every breath sends fresh waves of pain through my ribs—at least two broken, maybe three. My left eye has swollen shut, and dried blood crusts the corner of my mouth where Zain’s fist split my lip. But I’m still breathing. Still conscious. Still defiant. I know I’ll never get to repay the favor. But I hope another of the Doomsday Brethren soon will.
“Impressive. You’ve remained infuriatingly loyal in the face of agony. Pity you won’t reconsider your allegiances.” Mathias pauses, as if he hopes I’ll now plead for mercy. When I don’t, he sighs. “Unluckily for you, I can be quite good at extracting details from someone’s mind, and it isn’t very pleasant. My methods are especially effective once the subject has been weakened by pain. Spare yourself the torment. Tell me where the book is and which female is its guardian. Then we’ll put all this strife behind us.”
After I’m dead, he’s abducted Sabelle, and he’s confiscated the diary so he can begin his genocidal rampage? “Fuck off.”
“Determined to be defiant, I see. Must run in the family. It took a great deal of effort to hold Gailene down so I and the others could take our pleasure until her death.”
I try to stop the mental picture of my little sister’s vile, savage murder, but images come at me like a jet barreling down a runway. Gailene…so young, so innocent, her tiny form spread wide open for Mathias and his minions’ brutal pleasure and her utter pain. The regrets and recriminations I’ve lashed myself with for the past two hundred years haunt me anew. Why hadn’t I guessed what would happen?
Still, I swallow down my fury, refusing to give Mathias even the slightest new way to torture me.
Mathias creeps closer. I can tell from the brush of air at my back and the stench of evil. I tense, bracing myself, certain the wizard has more torture in store.
Instead, Mathias whispers in my ear, “You will tell me how to get my hands on the Doomsday Diary. I have more ways to ply you with pain than you have stamina to resist. And I have patience. If you insist on being difficult, you should know I’ll very much enjoy breaking you.”
I don’t doubt that Mathias can find limitless ways to cause me pain. But no matter what, I will never put Sabelle in this madman’s path. My own life is all but over. But my princess… She’s essential to magickind, and I need to know she lives on well and happily. I hope Duke and the others are already planning a rescue. Or that Sabelle is safe with Helmsley Camden or Sterling MacTavish, far from this nightmare. The thought gives me strength to lift my chin and meet Mathias’s gaze with renewed defiance.
“Fuck off.”
“Let’s see how brave you are in, say, a half hour. I’ve found the most interesting human, with the most deliciously twisted mind. I tested this one on MacKinnett before I burned him. Such gratifying screaming. You’re far stronger, so I’m hopeful you’ll prove even more entertaining.”
With a snap of his fingers, the heavy metal door swings open on creaky hinges. More footsteps. Heavy ones. Whoever enters is bulky. And he drags something light but solid on the ground. I’ll find out what soon enough, but I have no doubt it will prove excruciating. Humans rely on torture since they have no magical means to coerce cooperation.
“This one?” a rough male voice asks.
“Indeed. Don’t bother with mercy,” the evil wizard goes on. “He’s particularly troublesome.”
The newcomer says nothing, but simply laughs, the sound like gravel rattling in a metal cage.
In the next moment, I hear a whoosh, followed by the snap of a whip. Then a line of fire breaks out across my back. Agony. In seconds, blood seeps from the wound and drips down my back. I barely have time to assimilate the impact of the first blow before the second comes, then the third. Sweat breaks out across my forehead and shoulders despite the bone-deep cold. My vision blurs, but I blink, forcing myself to stay present and endure. Each breath rattles in my chest, and I taste copper where I’ve bitten my tongue. But, oh fuck, I can’t escape the whip ripping through skin, tearing into muscle, seeking bone.
One breath at a time. I focus on drawing air in, out. I turn my thoughts to Sabelle—not just her beauty, but her intelligence, moxie, and compassion. Her little gasp when I first touched her. The memory of her naked beneath me, trusting and open, saying my name like a prayer. The way she felt so perfect in my arms, as if she was made for me. Those brief moments are sacred, untouchable. But I’m gratified for one reason: I wouldn’t be suffering this torture if Mathias knew my princess has the book.
Desperate to focus on anything but the next lash, I clutch my mental images of her. But the whip is inescapable, wrapping around my waist, its coil snapping just below my navel and drawing fresh blood. The blow after opens the sensitive flesh at my nape. In my thoughts, I draw Sabelle closer, wrap an arm around her, protect her with my body, and bury my face in her neck to find imaginary comfort…
For a precious moment, the strategy works…until I feel Mathias’s hands on my shoulder and the bastard working inside my head, probing my thoughts. In the blink of an eye, I erase them completely.
“What were you thinking just now, warrior?” Mathias demands. “Of whom?”
Fuck off. I send the thought to Mathias, a pained grin spreading my dry lips.
With a mental roar, Mathias shoves his way inside my head, just as the lash of the whip lands on my shoulder and around my biceps, tearing my flesh open. Blood runs in rivulets down every inch of my back, which soaks into the waistband of my trousers. Without Sabelle to focus on, fresh pain rushes in, and the flaying from the whip ambushes the front of my consciousness. I miss the mental escape that thoughts of her bring, but I won’t risk her.
My knees threaten to collapse, but I force myself to stagger to my feet. The whip bites me again, this time across my hip, tearing my pants, my skin. Still, I won’t cry out or give in.
