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Hyto had invaded me, violated me in a way I’d never before experienced. In Otherworld, long ago, my boss—Lathe—had tried to blackmail me into fucking him, but I’d managed to squash that little game with Trillian’s help. But this . . . this outright assault . . .
I thought of Menolly and what she’d endured at the hands of Dredge, and the thought made me stronger. Hyto had hurt me, yes, and he would probably kill me, but he wasn’t going to turn me into a vampire. And so far, I’d been able to bear the humiliation he craved. I’d learned to be strong over the years.
Seeking comfort in the thoughts of home, of my loved ones, of everything we’d been through, I cemented my resolve. Hyto might kill me, but he wouldn’t win. No matter what, he wouldn’t win against me. And come what may, I’d at least make the cocksucker hurt like a house afire before he took me out.
Chapter 12
After my bath, I was able to step out of the tub on my own, though I was bone weary and ready to crash. Hanna wasn’t able to take off the collar, so I had to wear it. It reeked of Hyto, his musky scent filling my nostrils.
“Please, do you have anything to take away the odor?” I gestured to the leather. “It smells like him.”
She quickly fetched a bottle and I rubbed a little of the ointment under my nose. It was almost like Vicks . . . and strong enough to block the smell of the dragon without angering him. Relieved and wrapped in a thick blanket, I let her lead me to the table, where I saw that she’d prepared a light meal of eggs, applesauce, bread, and honey.
“This should settle on your stomach without too much problem,” she said, handing me a glass of wine to go with it. “You must eat to keep up your strength. But . . . before you do, I hate to embarrass you.”
“What?” I asked, thinking there wasn’t much she could do to further humiliate me beyond what Hyto had already done.
“I need to put a salve on your thighs and . . . your privates. The Master roughed you up pretty badly, my dear. And we don’t want the skin to get infected.” She held up a jar.
Blushing, I nodded and leaned back, spreading my legs. She was quick, with a light touch, and she spread the salve on the injured parts of my body. She also spread some of it on the purple blossoms spreading across my back and stomach.
“It will work for the bruising, too. There now, eat and then you must sleep. We have no idea when he will call for you next.” She fixed the blanket, tucking it around me again as she might tuck in a child.
“How long . . . how often . . . did he call for his other toys?” I glanced up at her, not wanting to know how many women had suffered over Hyto’s lifetime.
She swallowed hard. “You are the first who’s returned from his chamber.”
I stared at her. “The others . . .”
“One night. The past few years, I’ve cleared away the bones of at least two dozen young women . . . the Master created this retreat some time back, before . . .” Hanna glanced around, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Before his wife forced him out of the Reaches. I have been captive here for five years. In that time, all of the women brought here have died.”
My stomach lurched again. So he’d had this chamber while still married to Smoky’s mother. I wondered if she knew about it. And if so, what did she think? I couldn’t imagine her being pleased. From what Iris had told me, silver dragons—like Smoky’s mother—were at the top of the dragon food chain, and it would be an embarrassment to have a white dragon husband prone to behavior like this.
And then I realized what Hanna had said. “You’ve been here five years? And your son?” I glanced over at the cage where the silent boy lay sleeping.
“Kjell has been in that cage for five long years. He . . . it’s been a while since he said anything to me. He can no longer talk. I don’t even know if he understands me, though he likes it when I sing to him.” Her voice low, she cocked her head to one side, and silent tears traced down her cheeks.
I wanted to cry with her. For Hanna. For Kjell. For the dozens of women Hyto had murdered. For myself. For my loves, so far away. For all of the wrongs of the world. But the enormity of what I’d been through hit me like a punching bag, and I slumped at the table. “I’m sorry. I can’t take any more tonight. I need to sleep.”
Hanna led me over to a pallet—much softer than the one I’d woken up on.
“Sleep. Here, drink this. Five drops of it will deepen your rest but won’t make you groggy when you wake up.” She handed me a little bottle. “The Master would beat me if he knew I had this, but . . . I use it when I can’t stand being here, when I can’t face myself or what I do for him.”
I took the bottle and didn’t even hesitate. I needed the rest. I swallowed five drops of the bitter liquid. “Did he ever . . . has he raped you?”
She shook her head. “He needs me too much to subject me to that. The women he has captured . . . Camille, he not only abuses them, but he eats them afterward, in dragon form. The first, he tried to molest in his natural form and it split her apart. He didn’t try that again—he likes to play with his food before he eats. And it’s no fun if his prey dies so quickly. I’m not saying this to frighten you, but to warn you.”
“I know all about him,” I said. “Remember? He’s my husband’s father. And I know that unless I escape, the minute my husband comes here to save me, Hyto will kill me in front of him. Anything he can do to intensify the pain, he’ll do. I understand.”
And with that, I slid under the thick quilt that Hanna tucked over me and closed my eyes. A moment later, I felt her lips on my forehead, and it was like my mother had suddenly returned to give me her blessing. I didn’t say a word, but snuggled under the cover and immediately fell into a dark and deep slumber.
I was walking in a long, narrow tunnel that wound through the labyrinth for what seemed like forever. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I knew I was wandering on the astral in my sleep, and that knowledge comforted me. I began to look for any sign of life—anybody who might be able to help me.
And then I was running. A shadow loomed behind me and, terrified it might be Hyto, I darted from side to side, looking for some cover, some place to hide. But the shadow stayed apace with me, and after a while, I turned to find that it was merely a reflection of myself.
“What do you want? Who are you? Why do you look like me?”
And then, I flashed—and was in the other body, staring at my bruised and aching self. “You know what I want,” I found myself saying. “You know why you’re running from me. Just admit it, because otherwise you’re going to stand in your own way.”
