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He bit the curve of my neck and aimed directly at my bones.
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The most terrifying thing was that I knew his fangs were not fully inside. He could shatter my bones if he dug them in just a little deeper.
Mercy.
One word. It rang inside my head, taunting me, telling me that he was showing me mercy. This creature—this brutal, deceiving creature—was showing me mercy, something he was not capable of, and that it should be enough to soothe me.
If I moved even a little, I would cause more harm. Why… why was En handling me as if I was aprey?Was I not hismate?Did he not care for me at all?
Only when he retracted his fangs did I become aware of the whimpers and sharp gasps coming through my clenched teeth. My gums were beginning to feel numb. My face felt stiff, the skin around my jaw stretched tight across my bones.
Awareness returned to me slowly as the haze of pain dissipated from my mind. My fingers felt wet and warm—uncomfortablywarm—and something was trickling down my wrists.
I opened my eyes and instantly froze.
My fingers were dugintohis upper arms.
When I was able to feel and move my fingers, I was met with resistance. That resistance was the muscles and meat that surrounded my slender joints. It squelched and squished as my fingers began to shake.
Something made its way up my throat. I struggled to keep it in, my eyes twitching and a shudder running down my spine when I forcibly swallowed. A long, high-pitched sound of disgust and discomfort echoed deep in my throat.
A sudden noise of amusement broke the silence before it turned into a rumbling laugh that jolted me back to reality with a gasp. When I looked up, I saw my tormentor, his eyes squinting because of his stretched lips and his shoulders shaking because of his vibrating happiness.
“Now that’s a thrilling look on your face,” he said, his shoulders still shaking. I tried to show him how absolutely disgusted and disturbed I was, but that only made him break into another fit of hysteria.
“How do I get them out?!” I screeched, grimacing when he kept moving—him—the insides—around my fingers! How was he not feeling any pain? I had my fingers dug so deep into his biceps that he was bleeding! And it was streaking down my wrists!
How was he not feeling any pain when I was barely able to move because of what he had done? How?
“Try pulling them out,” he suggested with a smirk after hefinallydid settle down, his voice dripping with mockery.
“Why can’tyoudo it?” I retaliated, my tone accusatory and agitated.
This made his smirk widen, his head tipping to the side. “Pull them out yourself.”
The finality and haughtiness of his demand had me tensing and exposing my small fangs, glaring at him with as much anger and impatience as I could.
Strangely, his expression seemed to soften, his eyes blinking slowly and with a look that was so foreign yetcaptivating.It was a look that spoke of sin and rapture, a look that could send anyone walking blindly to their death.
I stared up at him, tensing with caution.
“Focus on me,” he murmured, his deep and guttural voice so unusually soft and soothing. No longer was it that rough and sinister tone I heard before.
And those eyes, those gates of hell disguised as a calm blaze, were perhaps more puzzling than his inconsistent behaviour.
It was difficult to focus on him when he was so unpredictable.
“Eyes up.” A sharp tone—sharp but still gentle—was the warning I received. It wasn’t a warning, though. It was more of an encouragement.
I looked up, blinking rapidly when I met those intense eyes. The corners of his lips twitched slightly, but when he noticed my suspicious stare, it looked as though he rolled his eyes.
“Draw your fingers out slowly,” he instructed, as though I did not have my fingers jammed inside his arms.
I swallowed hard. “I-I c-can’t.”
“You’re a brave Elf,” he praised in a soft tone I could only describe as… proud.
