Page 48 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

“There now, take a breath.” There was far too much satisfaction in that voice, making my stomach churn. I whimpered.

When I looked down, my body was still there, whole and unharmed. She must have used magic, some kind of spell to hurt me without doing physical damage. I caught a glimpse of the tubes, of the bags filled with my blood. I tried to speak but my throat was liquid fire. Even breathing hurt.

Rough hands adjusted the strap in my mouth. “Wouldn’t want you biting off your tongue just yet.”

“Avril! Dom’s back.” I didn’t recognize the voice.

There came a long, drawn out sigh. “I suppose this will have to wait. We can begin again later.”

She twisted a valve on the tubes, stopping the collection of my blood. When she stepped away, I held myself rigid, listening to the sound of her receding footsteps. Then, silence.

This was it. No one was coming for me. I was alone, just like I’d always been.

Alone. Always alone. Always unloved. Rejected. Nothing.

Silent tears pooled in my eyes then slid down my temples.

I cried for the girl who’d never gotten a break—that unwanted foster child who’d been tossed from one home to another, always worthless to everyone around her. That girl who’d—in spite of everything—held on to the hope that some day, when her life became her own, she’d find a way to claw her way out of it. I cried for believing I could come away from it. For believing I’d make something meaningful out of my life. For believing I could spend eighteen years suffering and turn that around, give myself a life I deserved.

This is where I’d ended up after everything.

Soon, my crying turned to sobbing. I’d done everything right. I’d fought for every scrap. I’d tried to be a good person. I’d been mature about getting a good education. It had all been for nothing. I was still being used. Still an object for someone else’s benefit. Still filled with suffering. Only now, it was a different kind.

I’d been so fucking stupid to think otherwise.

A scream, angry and frustrated mixed with my cries. It hurt, but I didn’t care about the physical pain anymore. That wasn’t anything compared to what my mind felt. What my heart felt.

I let everything go, let it seep out of me, until the tears slowed, until all that was left was a shell of what I’d been.

Avril returned. I was drifting in and out of consciousness when she greeted me. My mind was too numb to make sense of her words. I simply laid there.

It began again, the searing pain. My screams filled the room until my throat was so damaged that those screams turned to broken croaks. Each one was wrenched from my chest, stolen like my blood. It went on for minutes, or maybe hours, perhaps even days. And each time the pain finally ended, I was empty inside.

Time stretched and warped around me. I welcomed sleep when it came, begging it to last. My dreams were a reflection of my misery. I saw all the monsters of my life as if they were lined up before me, waiting to greet me. Some were human, their faces blurred with time so that only their actions remained. Others were more defined. Vampires. Witches. Laurent.

Every one of them clawed at me, hissed at me, told me how useless I was. There was only darkness. Only hurt.

During the times I regained consciousness, I was debased, my free will stolen. Sometimes I was forced to eat, food shoved down my throat. Forced to pee on myself. Treated no better than an animal.

There were periods of pain. Periods where that pain came in physical form rather than magic. The magical pain, though eviscerating, faded when it stopped. The physical pain remained, sending me deeper and deeper into myself. Deeper into my delirium. I got bruises I didn’t remember receiving. Cuts I didn’t recall. Broken bones I couldn’t place. They hit me, broke me, marred me. They even branded me, searing their mark into my skin.

When I finally begged for death, it came. It scooped me up, murmuring comforting words against my temple with lips feathery soft. Death welcomed me into its embrace. I knew in that moment, despite my vague awareness, that it was finally, blessedly over.

14

Laurent dropped to his knees, Lily’s body cradled in his arms. She was still unconscious. He gently set her on the foyer floor. The blood seeping from her wounds called to every vampire in the house like a siren’s song.

In her weakened state, it took every ounce of his control not to curl protectively around her. Anyone who took a step in her direction would die by his hand. They knew it too, so they hovered in his periphery, Kian, Lixin, Marco, Vittorio, Zola…

“Out,” he roared. They might have been his family, but he was seconds from losing it.

Kian and Lixin were the first to disappear. Vittorio and Zola hesitated before following. Marco took a step toward him.

He lifted his head, bearing his teeth. A growl simmered in his throat.

“I know what you are thinking, sire. The risk is too high.”

“You dare?” Rage coursed through him like molten steel. “You dare?!” The words erupted from his chest in a snarl.