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Siamus’s petty smile grew to a full smirk. “Glad to see you’re not so easily tamed.”
She watched him as he pulled a dagger from his hip, palming it with ease. He pricked his thumb with the dagger’s edge, taunting Elyse. She looked on with disdain. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm.
“I’ve always been curious about you, Elyse.” He purred her name, letting it slip over his tongue like an aged mead. “Such power, such grace… It’s almost unnatural.”
He took a step closer, then another, until he rested the dagger against her chest. Elyse kept her breathing steady, despite the way his words evoked a shiver.
“Where does your power come from?” he asked in a lilt as he caressed the dagger against her jacket.
Elyse met his gaze and forced a snarl into her lips. “While you were out raping and pillaging, I was practicing my ass off.”
Siamus let out a low chuckle. “I do not think so. I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
Elyse tried not to cringe as he gently grazed the dagger down her arm. His eyes, cool and unrelenting, never left hers. Slowly, he began to roll up her sleeve.
“What if it’s in your blood?” he asked. It sounded more like he was thinking aloud rather than actually asking her. “I wonder, could you share your power with others?”
Elyse’s heart raced as Siamus pressed the dagger to the flesh of her wrist. He cut a long, clean line across the width of her arm. Elyse gritted her teeth but refused to cry out.
“No need to be brave,” he crooned as the blood seeped from her arm. “It’s just you and me here.”
Without warning, he lowered his mouth to her wound and began sucking. The intimacy of his lips on her skin was revolting. Elyse tried to pull away, but her shackles held. Siamus drank deeply, squelching sounds echoing loudly through the stone room.
She began to feel queasy. Her knees buckled, threatening to give out. She tried to take deep breaths, but her head was spinning, her vision blurring. When she thought she was about to pass out, Siamus lifted his head.
Blood was smeared across the lower half of his face, dripping down his beard. He gave her a feral grin and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“That should be enough,” he sneered. “For now.”
He laid his hand across the cut, and she felt the itching warmth as her skin stitched back together.
Even with the wound healed, she still felt weak. She’d hardly eaten, and Siamus had drunk nearly a pint of her blood. Pushing away the dizziness, she managed to rasp, “If you think that will give you some of my power, you’re even more stupid than I thought.”
With every ounce of strength she could muster, she kept her fear from showing on her face. Truthfully, Siamus might have been on to something. If Lazarus had procreated with her mother to make her, then it was possible that her magic ran through her blood. But she wasn’t about to let the Bastard think there was any validity to what he’d done.
Siamus smirked, showing blood-stained teeth. “We’ll see.”
Elyse watched with blurred vision as he took slow, deliberate steps to the center of the room. He turned back toward Elyse, lifting his hand and flexing his fingers dramatically. She might have scoffed if she had the energy.
“I’ve never been very good with fire,” he recited, staring at Elyse intensely. Then he turned his gaze to his hand, his expression evolving into one of concentration.
Elyse’s eyelids were heavy, but she forced them open, watching Siamus as he summoned a flame. She schooled her features into boredom, though curiosity and dread churned within her.
He smiled as he watched the flame grow larger, consuming his hand and forearm. Elyse held her breath as he opened his other hand and called fire to it as well. He bent his fingers and twirled his wrists, testing the limits of his powers. But the flame grew no more, and his smile faded, replaced by knitted brows.
Elyse huffed an aching laugh. “Pathetic. Let me out of these chains and I’ll show you true power.”
Siamus clenched his fists, extinguishing the fire. He glared at Elyse, and she tried to flash him her characteristic grin, but it felt more like a grimace.
“I guess we’ll just have to proceed with more experiments, won’t we?” he crooned as he stepped to the door. “Be a darling and stay put,” he added before he exited the room.
The moment he was gone, Elyse closed her eyes and focused on taking slow, deep breaths. It could be worse, she told herself. They were keeping her alive. They weren’t torturing her—yet. She would survive until Killian came to find her.
Killian. As she blinked, trying to ignore the aching that thundered through her body, she cursed him for leading the Bastards to her. She hated him. But of course, she didn’t. Not at all.
If he could forgive her for lying and killing King Cyril, she could forgive him for this.
Elyse.
