Page 163 of Veiled

“Don’t forget, Annalise, we don’t need you alive; your screams just make it so much better.”

Every hair on my body stands on end.

“Take off her pants,” Platt directs, and Web doesn’t hesitate, moving behind Platt to tear at my buttons.

I need to come up with a plan, but I can hardly think straight.

The rope digs into my ankles as he pulls his blade across it, needing to get my pants entirely off if they’re going to try to fuck me at the same time.

This could be the opening I need.

Web’s focus is on the rope.

If I time it right, I can kick his blade up—

Pain explodes through my leg as Platt buries his second dagger in my thigh all the way to the hilt.

I scream. A raw, ragged sound that feels like it tears my throat open.

“HOLD ON! I’M COMING!” Tyr cries out.

“Just so you don’t think about running,” Platt snarls against my ear. His breath is hot and furious. “You’re ours to have fun with.”

Blood runs in hot rivulets down my leg, pooling beneath me.

When I’m able to open my eyes again, breathing through the pain, Web stands above me, his pants undone, jerking his already hard dick. “Fuck, we need to do that again before we’re done with her.”

Platt’s head falls back, laughing. “You’re a sick fucker,” he says, the words dripping with approval.

“Let’s put her on the cot. I can’t wait any longer.” Web says as he grabs under my arms.

Platt climbs off me, gripping my ankles and making me scream again as the blade in my thigh gets jostled around.

As they drop me unceremoniously on the cot, I come to terms with the only plan I can think of that might get me out of here alive…What I’m going to have to do has my stomach roiling, but I take a few deep breaths, and I steel my resolve.

They will not break me. They will not win. They are playing into my plan, not me into theirs.

“Tyr, I need you to stay with me. Talk to me. I won't be able to respond, but I need you to keep talking anyway.”

“Always, Faren.”

Tyr starts filling my mind with memory after memory. The day we bonded. Our first flight. The beach party with all of my friends. My first morph. So many mornings together talking, practicing, and laughing.

Web yanks me higher on the cot by my hair, my head now bent backwards over the edge as he lines his dick up with my face. He was definitely exaggerating when he called it a monster, but it’s not small by any means, either.

I can hear the blood dripping from my leg, through the canvas cot, and onto the dirt and stone beneath me already.

“Be good,” that’s the only warning I get before Web’s dagger is back against my throat, and he’s pushing his sweaty dick into my mouth. I immediately gag in disgust, and the blade slices shallowly into my skin.

Tyr snarls in my mind, but he doesn’t stop showing me clips from all of our time together.

“Fuck that was hot,” Platt says, watching us before he drops down and licks my opening.

I hate him and Web.

I will kill them when I get free.

But as much as I want to, I can’t make my body hate the pleasure that I get from each swipe of his tongue. And, despite knowing it’s a natural reaction, I can’t help but hate myself for that right now, too.