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Ulrich laughed. “Let you go? You think I’m letting you go after all the planning? No, you’re going to suffer, dear brother. Suffer and then one day, maybe, I’ll let you die.”
What the hell was he talking about? “You’ve gone too far. Free me before I call the others. They won’t be kind when they discover what you’ve done. If you let me go before the Wraiths find out, I will convince Waleron to put you in Rest instead of killing you.”
His fist plowed into my stomach, and since I couldn’t see, I hadn’t been ready for it and it knocked the wind out of me. It took a few seconds before I managed, “Ulrich, you bastard.”
Another punch.
Then another and another until I could no longer breathe and my abdomen twisted with agony.
I hung by my wrists, shackles taking the weight of me as my legs gave out.
“They think you’re dead, you know. They’ll never come, and we’re too far beneath the earth for you to use telepathy. This is your life now, brother. Here in this dungeon with no sight, no light, and your dear, sweet Gemma in my arms.” What? My stomach twisted. “At least until I get tired of her. Don’t worry, I intend to let you watch when I kill her.”
The last words sent me over the edge as my mind screamed with despair. Gemma? Sweet, innocent Gemma was here? My soon-to-be wife.
“Noooo,” I exploded, body raging against the chains, tearing open my skin around my wrists and ankles. My eyes burned with fury, and my Ink, trapped within me and desperate to be free from my body, joined me in my roars of outrage.
Ulrich chuckled.
The door opened and closed.
Then nothing as I became the madman.
“Beer?” Delara asked.
My expression must have given away my uncertainty because Delara turned to the waitress and ordered a round of beers. “You can try it and, if you don’t like it, I’ll finish it and we’ll get you something else.”
Balen sat kitty-corner from me, Delara beside me, and Danni directly across. We were at a table near the bar that had every stool taken by men who stared at the television. Loud cheers or groans rose on occasion along with slaps of palms on the bar top.
I’d never been to a pub, but Anton had taken me to the odd restaurant, but it wasn’t often. I hated going anyway. He had so many rules and I was constantly terrified I’d break one.
The waitress slid a large glass mug in front of me.
I lifted the heavy mug and took a sip, the bitter taste clung to my tongue and throat. It tasted like dirty clothes after sitting in a washer for too long, not that I knew what that tasted like.
I slid it closer to Delara, who winked at me and raised her arm to get the waitress’s attention. She smiled and sauntered over to her. “What do you want instead? Wine? Rye? Gin? What’s your poison?” Food was my poison. “How about white wine?”
Anton never let me drink alcohol, said it dulled the senses. Of course, he couldn’t have that. He wanted me to feel everything.
Balen said, “Get her a piña colada.”
“Yeah, piña colada,” Delara agreed.
The waitress nodded before wandering off and disappearing in the crowd.
When the drink came and I took a sip, Balen smiled at me because I kept on sipping. The drink was sweet, which meant it was probably fattening. Nothing this delicious could be without fat.
Stop. It’s okay to have one drink.
But somewhere inside, I fought the guilt that sucked away my resolve to enjoy something this once, a battle that persistently left me exhausted and uncertain of who I was.
Delara leaned forward, talking to Danni about an art gala that was in six months, when the blond playboy, Jedrik, approached the table. He caught my eye and put his finger to his lips, winking at me.
I didn’t know what he was doing until he snuck up behind Delara, hooked his arm around her shoulders, and locked her in her chair.
I froze—eyes widening, heart pounding and my hands wrapped tight around the cool glass.
