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His hands were rough when he ripped the fine dress down the middle, exposing my stomach, my breasts, every inch of me, his eyes igniting.
“So fucking perfect.” He murmured, tossing the gown to the side, and I stopped breathing altogether when he pulled a whip down from the wall, the metal tip glinting in the torchlight.
“Please.” I yanked at the shackles, the metal cutting into my flesh, blood turning my wrists and ankles slippery.
“The night I found you…I have not been able to get that night out of my head. How you looked. The lashes on your back.”
He stepped between my spread feet, then slowly ran the cold metal end of the whip over me, tracing my calves, my knees, the insides of my thighs before he paused, the sharp tip pressed against my sex.
“You’re a virgin, aren’t you, Anaria? I haven’t had a virgin in a very long time.” His voice never changed from that even, calm tone, the whip traveling higher. “We Fae have a heightened sense of smell, as you know. You smell sweet, Anaria. Sweet and innocent, just waiting to be ruined.”
His breathing turned ragged. “And how I would enjoy ruining you.”
I closed my eyes, blocking out the ravening lust on his face, the glazed look in his eyes.
“You should have listened to me. You had a good life here. I made sure your days were filled with everything you were denied in Varitus. I gave you freedom, showered you with every luxury you could have wanted. All you had to do was obey. But you couldn’t, could you?”
“No.” The word slipped out.
“Well, then, this is on you.”
The blow came too fast, harsh and brutal as the whip lashed across my stomach, ripping the breath from my lungs. I fought, yanking at the chains, the shackles slicing deeply into my wrists, my ankles.
I was still gasping for breath when he asked, “Who did you meet in the alley?’
“No one.”
“Who did you speak to, Anaria?” His sharp teeth glinted in the torchlight. “The shopkeeper was quite talkative. She said you met someone. A female. But she died before I got a name. It’s my job to ferret out traitors to the throne. Who was it?”
“I will never tell you anything.” I met his dead eyes. “You can beat me all you want, but I’ll never tell you who I was talking to.”
Foolish, perhaps, but IwantedSolok to know I met someone today. And even though I was tied down and helpless and he was holding the whip, there was nothing he could do to get the information out of me.
I smiled when his face transformed with rage.
“You will sing for me, Anaria. You will tell me everything I want to know, and by the gods, you will beg me for mercy.” There was a whistle, then blinding pain streaked through me, my breasts on fire. He rained blows down on my hips, my thighs, my stomach, until his breathing became as erratic as mine, his pale face flushed with color.
Solok did not know me. He did not understand.
He’d never counted how many times I’d endured this. How many times his own sister had tried to break me. How many times I’d defied her.
“Beg me for mercy, Anaria.”
“No.”
I wouldn’t give this fucker a single thing. Not a word. Not a scream. Not a whimper. He would get nothing from me, even if it meant I went to my grave with my mouth sealed shut.
“Take this collar off.” I hissed viciously. “And then we’ll see who’s begging for their life.” He blanched, and I saw the truth, then.
Without this collar, Solok, right Hand of the Fae High King, feared me, and that one, simple truth infuriated him.
And set me free.
His blows grew harder, faster, the smell of blood drenching the air, until his face was splattered with it and my body was numb beneath the coating of pain I wore like a shield.
His arm gave out, and I hadn’t made a sound.
“I will take you apart, little thief.” Solok panted; his eyes wild. “I will tear you apart and piece you back together, until the king calls for you to be harvested. Four days. Do you really think you can hold out that long?”
