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I could see her breasts, her stomach, the dip of her waist, the flair of her hips, her thighs. They were all on full display.
I swallowed harshly as my eyes dropped to between her legs.
A dark patch of hair was the only thing covering her privacy. I didn't even want to think about what the crowd could see from other angles.
Rage consumed me so wholly, I stopped hearing and seeing.
I would kill every single Council member for doing this to her if it was the last thing I did.
7
TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS
Aria
Ilooked like I belonged on the cover of a porno magazine.
I felt dirty, gross, disgusted. I could feel the eyes of men on me soaking up my body, my most private parts, all against my will. It was belittling and humiliating. I wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cry.
They’d collected me mere minutes after Neo came to. We’d had no plan, so I’d had no choice but bid him a hasty farewell. I didn’t know if I would see him again or if I would even survive the night, but I knew that what had happened to him had affected him terribly. My heart hurt for him, as he’d had no time to cope with the complete violation of his mind and body.
They’d taken me while I was kicking and screaming for them to stop. They’d brought me to a makeshift bathhouse, where a Para had subdued me with some kind of spell to stop me from moving. My mind had continued to go a mile a minute.
I’d vomited on myself when they—a group of two women and a man—had stripped me and bathed me, touching and scrubbing my body while I was hopeless to fight them. They’d massaged oils into my skin and painted my face with makeup. At one point, a woman had offered me a cup of steaming tea to “soothe my nerves,” because while they’d been able to stop me from physically fighting, they couldn’t have stopped my tears. I’d been inconsolable.
That was all before my wolf reminded me that we were without our mate, even, unable to communicate with him. Our bond was dying.
After that, everything had been a blur. The sheer piece of fabric they dared to call a dress had been thrown over me, and I’d been led away—my body still pretty much controlled by the Para witch—down a long corridor.
I’d heard them announce me and my crimes over the sound of my wolf mourning, over the strangling sensation in my chest. I was losing my mind. The Para didn’t release me from the trance-like state she’d left my body in until they’d shackled me to some kind of device, which left me suspended between two large pillars.
The cuffs were uncomfortable, digging into my skin when my full weight sagged against them.
I felt it when Sariel entered the room through a different door through his restless energy and persistent desire to communicate with me. However, at some point, I’d closed the door—or, rather, I’d erected a wall between us in the bond.
I didn’t dare to look up. Mortification paralyzed me. It felt like I was betraying my mate by letting all of them see me this way. Logically, I knew none of this was my fault, but I couldn’t stifle the stupid, primal idea that he’d be embarrased to be with me after this.
Then, I was reminded that I was hanging between two pillars, about to be sentenced to death, and the thought of “after this” shriveled up and died.
I made eye contact with him. The moment he took in what I was wearing, rage visibly overcame him.
We’d been hanging here twenty minutes since. His fury only seemed to increase every time I looked away from him or pushed back when he tried to mentally tell me something. The last time I looked away, he seemed like he was on the brink of madness, his beautiful features twisted into a mask of unbridled wrath.
I didn’t want him to know that I’d heard what he’d said about me. I couldn’t bear to hear what other opinions he had about me as his mate.
My wolf whined her complaint about me not letting our mate in, but I feared that if I heard his voice, I would break. I’d convinced myself that if these people had dolled me up because they thought I was going to put on some emotional play for them, I would be giving them nothing.
It didn’t matter that I was trembling all over, or that my nipples were poking through the material, or that I was red from my cheeks to my stomach from the embarrassment. I forced my expression to remain impassive. I forced myself not to react to the catcalls, the jeers, the insults, the spitting.
Sariel didn’t care that they were spitting on him, either, ignoring their jeers and insults.
Every negative thing said about me elicited a growl or a snarl that settled the crowd a little, and every time it happened, my heart would give an encouraging jerk.
The riffraff’s insults weren’t particularly creative—”half-blood whore” had been spat at me several times already, like they all shared the same half-functioning brain cell.
A door banged open, and a loud voice echoed throughout the room. “All rise for the entrance of the Upper Council!”
Silence descended. My head snapped up towards the semi-circle jutting out of the wall above me, right above the door I’d entered. From where I was, I could only make out the high backed chairs of their seats. The seating was split down the middle by what I imagined was two or three stairs, and on either side were three red, velvet-upholstered chairs.
