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Up until now, standing in front of me, Hagan had blocked my view of the room. Still holding my head up by the hair, the bastard took a step to the side, freeing my line of sight.
An animalistic roar rose from my throat as blind rage erupted through me at the horrible vision before me. I fought and strained against my restraints in a futile attempt to go to my woman. Shackled to a spanking bench sitting sideways in front of me so that I could see her profile, they had turned her face towards me and strapped her head to the headrest. She couldn’t hide her pain from me, be it now or later when they would abuse her to hurt me. Her beautiful, long black hair had been desecrated. But what had me going feral were the large, black, purple, and yellow bruises covering her behind and the back of her thighs.
Hagan burst out laughing at my vain efforts. And yet, despite my seething rage, Mercy’s eyes locking with mine brought me back to reason. With a subtle shake of her head, probably due in part to the strap holding her in place, she reminded me not to feed our enemy with my helpless anger.
My blood still boiling with fury, I forced a calm expression on my face but didn’t hide the hatred in my eyes, as I turned to look at Hagan.
“When I get free, I will destroy you. Even Death will beg me to put an end to your agony.”
His smile faltered, a glimmer of fear flashing through his eyes.
Coward.
Lifting his chin with bravado, but less confidence than moments before, Hagan shoved my head down as he released my hair. I stiffened my neck, keeping my head high and my defiant stare trained on him.
“You willnotget free, Xeldar,” Hagan said, thinking to insult me by using only my last name as one would for someone of inferior status. “After your death, your sons will step down or face challenges. The old order will be restored.”
Movement at the edge of my vision drew my gaze to another presence.
I snorted. “Restored with Ambassador Zorak as your new master? He would make you his bitch.”
Hagan backhanded me. The taste of iron filled my mouth. I laughed and licked the blood beading at the corner of my lips. It angered Hagan further as he struggled to find an appropriate comeback.
“Lorik has no interest in Braxia. He just wants that cunt,” Hagan said, pointing a finger at Mercy. “But right now, it’s time formeto makehermy bitch. She will learn to respect her betters.”
Looking over my shoulder, my stomach dropped, and cold sweat trickled down my back as Hagan reached for something on the large counter behind me. I could already guess what it would be, his comment on respect having given it away. The urge to fight against my restraints and plead for him not to harm her died in my throat as my eyes connected with Mercy’s. The resolve within put me to shame.
“Be strong,” she mouthed silently. “For me. For us.”
But how? How could I be when the female who held my heart would be beaten bloody as I watched helplessly? And yet, for her, I would manage, somehow.
Teeth clenched, hands fisted, I held her gaze and silently mouthed back to her, “I love you.”
Her eyes misted, and a watery smile stretched her lips. I tried to focus on the emotion they conveyed and not the swelling of her cheek where she’d been struck, or her split bottom lip where blood had coagulated.
“Let’s see how proud you are now, little whore,” Hagan said.
From the corner of my eyes, I saw him flick his wrist, unfolding the long whip in his hand. Refusing to look away from my woman, I swallowed hard and poured all the depth of my emotions for her into my gaze, lending her what strength I could.
The whip whistled, striking her back with a snapping sound. Mercy’s body tensed, her eyes closing for a second as she winced in pain. Reopening them, she sought mine again, bracing for the second blow.
“That’s for talking back to a man,” Hagan said, striking again. “That’s for calling me stupid.” Another hit. “That’s for humiliating me in public.”
By the fifth lash, silent tears had begun trickling down her cheek. My stomach churned and roiled, each strike like so much acid in my veins. By the seventh lick, I’d tuned out Hagan’s rambling. Despite her best efforts, pained whimpers escaped her each time the ropy leather made contact with her bare back, but especially on her already bruised legs. Bile rose in my throat when the thirteenth blow struck her. As per the old law, half the twenty-five lashings had to draw blood. Hagan would no longer hold back.
This time, I couldn’t help glancing towards him. The maniacal hatred in his eyes filled me with dread as he brought down the whip with brute force. My heart skipped a beat as Mercy’s body jerked over the spanking bench, a cry of agony tearing from her throat. Shaken with spasms, her eyes rolled in her head as she battled to retain consciousness.
Don’t, my love. Don’t fight it. Let go.
That way, even if for a short while, she wouldn’t feel the pain.
“CAREFUL!” Lorik shouted, aiming a blaster at Hagan’s face. “I have given you leave to punish her, not kill her. You will control yourself or forfeit the remaining lashes.”
Hagan bared his teeth at him. For a desperate moment, I hoped he would push the Guldan into killing him, but my nemesis was too much of a coward to press his luck. With his superior strength, he could have easily overtaken Lorik. Why did he submit to him, anyway? Why not kill the Guldan and just do as he pleased with Mercy and me?
Although reluctant, Hagan obeyed, pulling back his blows. Still, each one broke skin, wresting a tortured cry from my woman, and stabbing at my heart. Rivulets of blood trickled down her sides. At last, thank the Ancestors, Mercy fainted from the pain with four lashes remaining. Hagan wanted to wait until she came back around. But Lorik, clearly eager to be done with this, told him to finish or relinquish.
“You’ve completed your punishment, now leave us,” Lorik said.
