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Haven gritted his teeth, opening his hand to let the letter fall to the floor. “I won’t lie. Not even for you, Lord Gaius. This letter was forged. This is not my master’s hand. I’ll swear by it.”
“Why are you protecting him?” Reyber lunged forward so Haven fell to the chaise on his back. With the ancient vampyre poised over him, fear began to set in. Those blood red eyes were filled with malice, his mouth open to expose hungry fangs. “Tell me why!”
Gaius rushed forward, his thick arms slipping around Reyber’s middle to tug him away. Their strength was a perfect match, and Reyber, like a rock, refused to be budged. He glared at Haven with poison in his fury.
“You really want to live the rest of your immortal life under his thumb?” Reyber spat. “He’ll continue to use you like a whore, lend you out to his comrades until there’s nothing left of you. I know you have more information than you’ve let on. Tell me!” He drew back, a cold look stealing over his face. “Or perhaps it’s you who’s the real traitor?”
“Reyber!” Gaius growled from behind the other vampyre, but Reyber ignored him, throwing off his grip. He lunged forward so his face was only inches from Haven’s, breathing down his collar.
“Why didn’t I guess this? You’re so attached to him, you’d sell your very soul. If you haven’t already, that is.”
“I don’t know anything!” Haven spluttered, trying to wriggle free of Reyber’s grasp. Suddenly all the calm he had felt died in his chest, replaced by dread and terror. It was unnatural, but Reyber’s face seemed to shift and rearrange itself into a hideous mask. His fangs elongated, his eyes glowing red like a monster out of a nightmare.
“You’re a traitor just like Thorne. His spoiled house pet. You’re an accessory to his crimes! And you’ll be punished as such. Maybe a good draining will convince you to talk.”
“No!” Haven growled, fighting through his fear. “I told you, I don’t know anything!”
“Isn’t that just what a traitor would say?”
“Reyber,” Gaius reasoned. “Enough of this. Haven is a bystander. Like all of those who fall under Thorne’s spell, he’s a victim. Thorne keeps him at arm’s length. He doesn’t know anything.”
Reyber whirled on Gaius then, giving Haven a moment’s reprieve. “You’ve always been obsessed with your fledgling’s creation! You’re weak for him, Gaius! He could prep you for slaughter among the humans, and still, you would deny his treachery!”
“Reyber, you must trust me!”
“Enough!” Reyber’s presence filled the room, staunching all rebellion. Surrounded by Reyber’s immense power, Haven felt he might wet himself in fear as the elder vampyre turned back to him. “You’ll talk, my little songbird. You’ll talk in time. Once you’ve been bled and tortured and burned. Once you’ve been brought to the brink of death and left there until you can no longer think, you’ll talk.”
He snapped his fingers, and several guards marched into the room. Gloved hands held silver shackles, and before Haven could move to fight, they were clipped to his wrists. A burning pain shot through his skin.
Haven wouldn’t beg. He wouldn’t fight. To resist would be a futile effort. But as he was dragged out of the room, he locked eyes with Gaius. “Cypress,” he hissed. “Find Cypress. Please.”
He knew where they would take him as they tugged him into the hallway. They weren’t gentle as they plunged him into the darkness of the Alnwyck dungeons. Shrouded in shadows, he curled into a ball against the cold stone floor as the silver gates were slammed shut in front of him.
He only hoped his pet fared better than he.
CHApTER SEvEnTEEn
Cypress
Cy wasn’t surehow many times he’d fallen into unconsciousness only to be revived and brought back to a world of unending torture. Had it been hours? Days? Merick worked diligently on Cy’s body, tearing open his flesh, breaking his bones, draining his blood only to pump him full of more. He’d keep him in a suspended state of throbbing agony, always near death but never close enough.
Rods of iron and steel had been pounded into his flesh, into his chest and his thighs. They protruded from his skin around puddles of bloody, reddened muscle. All the fingernails from his right hand had been extracted, leaving only bloody nubs. The sting was now a dull ache that resounded from deep within him.
Somewhere along the way, Merick had shoved golden rings through both of his nipples. They bled and burned, and Merick would tug on them until Cy feared he might rip them out of his chest.
“Tell me!” Merick’s tone had become less playful, sharper and more malicious. He was growing impatient. “Tell me where they are, and this can all be over with!”
Cy had long since given up denying and now just focused on keeping his mouth shut. His lips sealed tightly together, he clenched his eyes closed and tried to block it all out.
In a way, he longed for death. His existence now was nothing more than an unnecessary risk. He had to withstand. But for how much longer?
He thought of Haven then. Of that one shining moment of passion. Of his lips. Of his strength. Why was Cy thinking of him at a time like this? Haven was a vampyre. Haven was his enemy. But in this den of vipers, Haven was a mouse. Even if he himself hadn’t recognized it yet, his position was precarious. For as much as he wanted to shout it from the rooftops, Haven was not the same as the other vampyres.
A slap across his face brought him back to his reality. “How much more do you think you can take, slayer? You’re hanging on by the thread of spite. I know that feeling. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Tell us about the Veritas. Where they are, what their plans are. Who the vampyre traitors are that are helping them. And it can all end.”
“Fuck you.”
Merick punched him in the stomach, and Cy choked, blood bubbling from his lips. “I can do so much more. Hurt you so much more. Keep you alive but only just.”
