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It was fucking torture.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the man’s head lolled downwards, chin resting on his chest. I brought my hand up to my mouth to smother the gasp, the sob, that threatened to escape.
Another low moan left the Rager’s mouth, and his head lifted. Lifted. Lifted.
Until I was staring at a pair of mossy green eyes in a face devoid of blemishes. He blinked rapidly, seemingly coming out of a daze.
“What? Huh? Where am I?” His voice was drowsy, weary, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Still, he was alive.
And human.
Human.
The events of the day finally caught up to me. Lucian’s confession, my own distorted memories, the proof of what my blood could do.
Too much.
Too much.
Too much.
My eyes rolled back in my head.
I wasn’t even sure if I hit the ground before unconsciousness consumed me.
* * *
Calax
I followed her down hall after hall; the further we went, the more disoriented I felt. My head was already aching, brain fuzzy, from...well...everything. Torture and starvation does that to a man.
“Where are we going?” I growled in a hushed whisper. “If you’re fucking with me…” I trailed off ominously, but I honestly wasn’t sure how to finish that statement. My moral compass prohibited me from hurting her, but I would be fucking pissed.
She placed a single finger to her lips and shushed me.
Finally, we stopped in front of a door that resembledevery other fucking door on the hall.
When she nodded for me to enter, I eyed her warily. This was a woman who had given me a key to escape, had fed me, had been nothing but kind to me. While I knew I should’ve trusted her, the logical part of my mind wondered if she was leading me to a trap.
Surely, she wouldn’t have saved me just to kill me?
Unless she was a psychopath...which I could totally see. Yup. Did not want to go into that room.
When my feet remained stubbornly planted on the ground, she gave my shoulders a firm push.
Of course, it did nothing to me. I may have been weak and frail, my muscle mass nothing like it used to be, but I still towered over her in height alone.
But still…
If trusting her could earn me my freedom, could lead me to Addie…
Releasing a heavy breath, I entered the room.
My mind catalogued it all. It appeared to be a bedroom with purple silk drapes, a barred window, and a plush bed, with bedding in a similar shade of purple, adorned with dozens of throw pillows. Two nightstands flanked the bed, one holding a single lamp and the other carrying a picture frame. On closer inspection, I saw that the standard prototype picture hadn’t been removed. Instead, in black block letters, were the words “insert photo here” over a portrait of a smiling family.
The room hadn’t been lived in.
“What-” I began, but before I could articulate my thoughts, the bedroom door was slammed closed.
