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and infused with power. They didn’t swing anymore. They were drawn up, ready to spill inside her. He wanted that. He wanted to fill her with his cum, his child.
There was a tingling at the base of her spine, so wild she jerked a little, but then she knew what was happening. Shim was coming, finishing, completing the cycle they’d begun.
Bron’s heart nearly stopped at the pleasure. Relief cascaded through her like a giant river as he spilled his seed. She could feel Shim’s joy in the act. In his mind’s eye, he pumped in and out of her pussy, grinding against her, giving her everything he had. He squeezed his cock, wringing every ounce of pleasure.
She dragged air into her lungs, blood pumping through her body in a pleasant pounding rhythm. She was happy and lethargic and she felt so, so good.
And then a hard voice echoed in her head. He practically screamed as though he wasn’t sure she could hear.
Stay where you are! We’re coming for you.
Bron came awake. She sat straight up in her little cell, the moonlight streaking through the high bars the only illumination.
Her head hurt again. Had she been sleeping? It had been so different. They had spoken to her, telling her their names. She’d felt his pleasure.
Symbiotic twins. She laughed a little ruefully. Well, of course, she’d dreamed up a set of symbiotic twins. She missed her brothers. She was in a horrible position and symbiotic twins were powerful. Tears squeezed out of her eyes. She was alone again. She could still feel her nipples throbbing and the wetness of her pussy. She acknowledged for the first time that she might be a little crazy.
“Uhm, are you finished with all that…whatever you were doing?”
Bron screamed a little and sat up, pulling the flaps of her bodice together. Dear goddess, she’d been caught masturbating. She looked up and saw a guard staring through the cell door. There was a small window that opened from the opposite side. The guard shoved a tray of food through the slot in the door.
She remembered him from the day before. She’d fed him while he stood guard for the mayor. Now he was her jailor. So much for kindness.
She pulled her dignity around her. Well, whatever dignity she had left. Now he probably thought she was a whore along with being a witch. She carefully schooled her features. No matter what she was accused of, she was still Bronwyn Finn. If she was going to be burned tomorrow, she wouldn’t let her fear show.
She forced herself to stand and walk across the cell. Her legs felt a little wobbly, like a newborn lamb just learning to walk. Crossing the cell floor with small steps, she held her head high. She grasped the wood tray. There were slices of bread and an apple that been quartered. Nothing else. Still, she took it.
“Don’t forget this, Isolde.” The guard regarded her seriously through the small window, his hand pressing through the slot. A small, folded piece of paper was in his hand.
She took it, placing it under the tray so anyone else looking wouldn’t be able to see it.
“Eat well, witch. Tomorrow you burn.”
The window slammed closed, and she heard the guard’s boots ring down the hallway.
Bron forced herself to eat the bread and the apple. She let an hour go by and then two. When she was sure no one was watching, she finally pulled out that little slip of paper.
Trust Niall. He’s working with us. I won’t let you burn. G
Niall? She stared at the door. The guard. The one who had looked pissed when the mayor had talked about purification. The one who had told her to hide the brownies.
The one who had passed her the note.
Bron tore the note into tiny pieces, taking her time to make sure no one could ever put it back together. She shoved it into the seams of the mattress and lay back.
Her head still hurt, but her heart was worse. She would follow instructions. She would trust Niall, but she wanted her Shim and her Lach, and they didn’t really exist. She was damaged. So damaged.
She closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come.
Chapter Eight
The light streaming in from the high window brought Bron out of her sleep. She sat straight up on the hard cot and tried to remember her dreams.
She could only remember one, but it had been a little wild. Shim and Lachlan. They had names after years and years of dreams. Odd. She’d never heard the name Shim before, and she wouldn’t have picked Lachlan. She’d always liked Padric and James.
She stretched and saw a wooden tray. A guard must have brought it in this morning while she slept. A wooden mug of water and a dry crust of bread. Her last meal.
She shuffled over and sipped the water, her throat a parched mess. She couldn’t even look at the bread, her stomach churning at the thought. She put down the mug. Even the water tasted bad here.
