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“A witch has no place in my kingdom. She never will.” That stops him short while guilt settles deep in my gut. I’d spat the word with so much venom and hate; for her mother and kind and the possibility Isabella could’ve been involved. Even though my heart tells me this is unfair, my wolf scratches against my skin, his claws tearing me from within at the pain I’m causing, yet my feelings are just.
The truth. Our fate.
“Brother, don’t pin your ire on an innocent girl. She’s not at fault for—”
“Isabella Moore is my mate, Cain. That’s what I’m fighting against.”
“Well, shit, Alpha.” I’m thankful he keeps his face blank of emotions this time. Pity is the last thing I want to see. From him or anyone.
“Exactly.”
For a while, neither of us speaks. We’re deep in thought, and the room feels heavy and volatile, too. The latter is all me. Disappointment leads to anger on its way to a yearning so cruel I close my fist and allow my claws to pierce through my flesh, feeling the droplets of blood as they pool and then fall onto my trousers where I’m keeping them out of sight.
“Do you believe in the Moon Goddess and her purpose? Trust her?” Cain asks, breaking the silence. It’s also not where I thought he’d go, but I nod in response. Our goddess has never failed her children, but this isn’t her hand at play. This wickedness comes from the witches and their greed.
“Would she pair you with someone cruel and evil?”
“My heart says no, but the reality is different.”
“Or so you think.” Standing, Cain taps my desk with his closed fist before doing the same to his chest. A sign of solidarity. “Sometimes the sweetest reward starts as the cruelest of tasks. Remember that, Xadiel. There’s a reason for everything.”
“Cain, I—”
Alpha, we’ve finished setting up as you requested.
A smirk spreads across my face at that. This is how I’ll get my answers.
“Why do you have that look? Is she here?”
“No.” Pushing my chair back, I stand and crack my neck. The loud sound reverberates around the room. “But I am going to enjoy myself.”
“I’m not following, Xadiel.”
“I have a date with a warlock and two miserable arsehole guards.” Understanding dawns, and Cain smiles too. Just as sinister and dark. “Join me in the dungeons in about two hours. I’m going to need your assistance with something.”
“Yes, Alpha. I’m just going to run a quick perimeter check before then.” His reply, while compliant, isn’t honest. He’ll be back to ask questions and prod, not letting go like a dog with a bone, but I’m glad for the chance to leave it for now.
“Good. Because it’s time to play.”
* * *
Since capturing the warlock, I’d yet to visit him. Instead, I’ve let him stew in his filth for days on end—that acrid stench of decay that clings to his flesh but no one else can sense.
I do, though, and his death is near. It permeates the air, on the clothes of those who monitor him, and I’m enjoying it. His misery makes me smile.
His refusal to eat or talk only makes this sweeter.
Because by my hand or fate, the arsehole will suffer. Nothing will change that.
Not when every tick of the clock is a tightening noose forecasting his demise. How his life slowly fades, his powers subdued, and those charged with monitoring him report back daily with every minute detail.
He’s bound every second of the day with his hands splayed open and an opal-stoned dagger embedded in each, which he cannot remove. The blade is encrusted in the wall of his cell, a containment unit blessed and warded by the same woman whose head I want to be crushed beneath my boot.
Irony: what a beautiful cunt she is. The bloody queen helping me without knowing.
And even while chained to a wall, at my mercy, he’s been volatile and angry. Threatening those around him…until earlier today.
He’s unable to lift his head. The bastard refuses to while playing an immobile corpse, yet the moment I step inside the cell, his head snaps up and his body begins to shake, thrashing so hard his palms are cut straight down from the center to the wrist and out through the side, just shy of the veins there.
