Twisted Captive

by Patricia D. Eddy

  Manacles wrap around my wrists, pinning them behind me, and then the guards roll me over and continue to kick and pummel me as Aurelia screams.

  “Let him go! Please!” she begs. “He is no threat to you. I cannot leave this place. Ever. You have seen to that! Let him live!”

  “He is a dragon, my sweet Lia. His magic? It will give us power for centuries. Perhaps even allow us to leave this realm and return to our own. With you. Of course.”

  “I will accept you!” She turns and grabs his vest. “If you release him, we can be married before the sun sets.”

  “No! Aurelia, no!” My voice is hoarse and weak, and I use my legs to push my prone body towards the stairs. The guards stand back and let me try to reach her, which should terrify me, but all I can think about is Aurelia.

  Blood drips into my eyes, and I cannot wipe it away. Aurelia’s gaze locks onto mine, and the sorrow and regret in those hazel depths tear what’s left of my heart into pieces.

  The Prince grabs her by the hair and drags her down the stairs behind him. Her legs scramble for purchase, and she claws at his fingers with her bound hands.

  “If you harm her,” I growl as the guards haul me up and slam me against the wall, “I will gut you.”

  “I would like to see you try,” the Prince says, throwing Aurelia at my feet. She tries to rise, but he presses his booted foot down on her back and she whimpers my name. Her fingers graze my ankle, and a spark races through me at the contact.

  But then the Prince shifts his foot onto her hands, and she screams as a bone snaps.

  With a lecherous grin, the Prince punches me in the stomach. “Take him to the dungeon and ensure his beast is well contained. My father and I will be down as soon as I teach my future bride a lesson about what happens when she keeps secrets from me.”

  As they drag me away, I have to watch the Prince lift Aurelia to her feet and press a kiss to her broken fingers. She’s shaking violently, and I call her name, over and over again, hoping for one more moment of connection. But the Prince turns her away from me, and all I hear is her sobbing, “I am sorry. So sorry,” over and over again.

  The tall Fae guards—both with long blond hair and features that should not exist outside fine art—throw me down flight after flight of stairs, and without my dragon to protect and heal me, I break several ribs, my ankle, and my nose. One of my shoulders dislocates, and I stifle my scream. I will not give them the satisfaction of hearing my pain.

  Thirty floors later, I smell the damp earth. We are underground now, and I can barely hold on to consciousness. The guards uncuff me, but they are too quick, and fasten chains around both wrists. I pass out when my dislocated shoulder pops back into place, and when I wake again, my arms and legs are spread wide and my clothing is gone. The metal collar burns, its charm now in full control of my body.

  I was wrong before. My dragon is not dead. He has not left me completely. But when I reach for him, I hear only pained whines, and I feel nothing. My beast is a part of me. Has been since the day I was born. But now…he languishes just out of reach, begging me to free him before death claims us both.

  If only I could.

  I will die here. My leather bag is gone. I cannot remember if the guards took it or if it slipped off my shoulder when I ran for Aurelia.

  My entire body is consumed by frigid fire, burning and freezing me at the same time. I know only agony and pain, and even focusing on my mate for the briefest moment will soon become impossible.

  By the time the Prince and the King come for me, I fear Aurelia will already be lost. And if not, they will torture me and use my pain to force her to submit. To bind herself to them forever.

  I let my head hang down, the charmed metal digging into my throat. Each breath is harder than the last, and I think perhaps…it would be better if I simply died now. Stopped fighting and slipped away.

  Then, at least they would not be able to take my power.

  But that is the curse of being immortal. Unless my head is severed from my body or my heart is cut out completely, I will live. And every second from now until eternity promises nothing but pain.

  Chapter Eleven

  Aurelia

  When the Prince came for me, I was still asleep in his bed. My dreams were full of Roarke. All the times he visited my stall on Market days. The jokes he would tell to make me laugh. The single time I risked going on a picnic with him in the forest. His scent.

  And his dragon. Flying away from my tower prison with such grace after promising to return the next night.

  My own dreams betrayed me.

  “You little harlot!” the Prince shouts as he jerks me up by my bound wrists and hauls me out of his bed so quickly, I land on the floor. “Your rescuer is here. I think you should watch as I destroy him.”

  My mind is so addled from sleep and thoughts of Roarke that I do not understand until the Prince drags me out the door of his chambers and to the top of the stairs. There, he picks me up and sets me on my aching feet, then wraps his fingers around my throat.

  That is the moment I sense Roarke.

  I cannot see him yet, but I know he is close. “Roarke! Run!”

  The Prince tightens his grip. Not enough to hurt me, but enough to let me know he could cut off all of my air so easily. I claw at his hands, but he merely uses the rope to pull my arms away.

  And then I see the man I think…I know…I have fallen in love with.

  The Prince makes me watch. Forces me. I try to close my eyes when the guards start beating my love, but then I hear the Prince’s words in my head—a command I cannot ignore.

  “You will open your eyes.”

  And I do.

  The small bites of food, the nectar…I have felt weaker each time. As if my mind—my thoughts—are slowly becoming his. He can control my body with only his words now?

  He pulls me down the stairs, not caring that I lose my footing, and when he tells the guards to take Roarke away, he nudges my chin up and forces me to look in his eyes. “That collar, my sweet Lia, binds his dragon. He cannot fight our charms, and we will draw upon his power for all eternity in the most painful way possible,” the Prince sneers. “He is powerless. This is what you pine for? How can you want that when you have me?”

  He leads me back to his chambers, and I follow meekly. What is the use of fighting any longer? Roarke will die, and I will become the Prince’s bride. My broken fingers throb with every beat of my heart. If this is how he treats a woman he is courting, my life as his bride will be so much worse.

  “You must serve the rest of your punishment now, Lia,” he says patiently as he hands me over to his two personal guards. They push me against the beam, only this time, they angle me so the hard corner of the beam digs into my back. Ropes lash me from just under my breasts to my knees. My breaths are shallow; I’m tied too tightly to inhale deeply.

  The Prince strokes my cheek with a finger, then dashes away one of my tears.

  “You are a monster,” I hiss.

  With a small shake of his head, he glances at the guards. One of them digs his fingers into the hinge of my jaw while the other forces a thick piece of cloth between my teeth, then ties it around the beam, pinning my head to the sharp edge and gagging me at the same time.

  “That is for your foul tongue.” He leans in and brushes his lips to mine. Looking me up and down, he sighs and lifts my bound hands. “I do apologize for these.”

  My scream is muffled by the gag as he squeezes my broken fingers, and my vision turns glassy.

  “I never meant to harm you, Lia. You must believe me. You do, yes?” Touching his forehead to mine, he repeats his words, only this time, he does not speak aloud. “You believe me. I never meant to harm you. If you had not disobeyed, you would not have been hurt.”

  “If I had not disobeyed, I would not have been hurt.”

  Deep inside, I know that is a lie. But I cannot help myself from agreeing with him. From trying to nod my head, even though it is a futile gesture boun
d as I am. The Prince smiles at me, and his face transforms into something beautiful.

  It is all a lie.

  My heart knows this, even though my eyes deceive me. He tosses the end of the rope to the guards, and they raise my hands over my head, tying a knot to a hasp well out of my reach. The movement thrusts my breasts forward, and in the cool air of the room, my nipples pebble under the thin white silk.

  “You are a vision like this,” the Prince says. “Your pain is intoxicating. I could live off of it for centuries. And I will.” He kisses the tears from my cheeks, and I cry more for him, unable to stop, which only makes his influence over me stronger.

  “By the time I return, Lia, you will have forgotten all about the dragon.”

  The guards leave, followed by the Prince, and my head pounds, my thoughts at war with one another. Nothing makes sense to me, least of all, the Prince’s words.

  What dragon?

  Roarke

  The Fae move so silently, I don’t hear the King and the Prince enter the room. Then again, I can only hear my own thready heartbeat in my ears. The guards have not moved from their stations at the door, and I have remained silent.

  I pour every ounce of energy I have left into sensing Aurelia. The tether between us is frightfully tenuous, but it has not frayed completely.

  Aurelia, please, my darling. You must find what is hidden deep inside you.

  A small spark warms me, but only for a moment, because the King grabs a chunk of my hair and pulls my head back to meet his gaze. “A dragon in our very midst. How fortuitous.”

  “Fuck you.” I spit in his face, and he steps back and wipes his cheek with a chuckle, then nods at the guards.

  “You may begin.”

  The snap of a whip is quickly followed by blazing pain licking across my back. They strike time and time again, until my skin splits and blood runs down my naked body.

  Pain can be overcome. I send my mind soaring above the trees, my dragon in control. My brothers, Kipling, Camdyn, and Dameon, rise up to meet me, and we play as younglings over the wildlands that are now part of Alaska.

  I have not seen them in a century, and I ache to know if they are even still alive. We were hunted for so long, separated, and alone. Until I’d heard their call.

  I stay in this dream for hours, only dimly aware of what is going on around me. I know the guards have moved on to other forms of torture. I can vaguely sense the temperature in the room dropping, blunt impact to my thighs, my ribs. But walling off my mind keeps the worst of the agony at bay. The wind ruffles my hair as I soar over the tops of trees and dip down to skim a wing tip through the water.

  Whatever happens to me now, I will endure until the end, and perhaps then, I will find peace.

  Chapter Twelve

  Aurelia

  The sun streams through the Prince’s window, and still, I remain bound. He slumbers in the bed, close enough I can hear his snores.

  I caught fragments of sleep between the hours of agony, but each time, I jerked awake to feel his hands on me. Cupping my cheek, kissing away my tears.

  A day has passed, I think. Or most of one, since he ordered me tied here.

  Several times, I have dreamed of a massive dragon. Four of them, actually. One, I recognize. I know he is mine, even if the Prince has done his best to force me to forget him. His name…why can I not remember his name?

  I must make some sound, because the Prince opens his eyes and smiles at me. I hate that smile. Hate him. Yet, a piece of me longs for him and I do not know why. “You are awake, my sweet Lia,” the Prince says, rising and moving towards me. He is naked, and I blink hard as his body seems to fuzz in and out of focus.

  When he reaches my side, he kisses my cheek, then whispers a few words that cause the ropes and the gag to fall away.

  I fall as well. My limbs are numb; I am too weak to move, too weak to do anything but cry out as my broken fingers send shocks of pain up my left arm. “Now, now, Lia. Is that any way to greet your future husband?”

  My mouth is so dry, I cannot speak, but I gaze up at him with all the hatred I can muster. His pale, spindly arms and legs seem so different when he is clothed. Bulkier. Stronger. His nose has changed as well. Sharp and angled, almost hooked. His chin is weak and even his hair is not the same. No longer thick and tumbling over his shoulders, it resembles poorly spun thread, and there is a greasy shine to it.

  “The Fae have the power to make themselves look beautiful at all times,” my grandmother says as she sits across from me at our small table. “You must always try to see past their disguises to the beings inside.”

  I blink, hard, and the Prince’s visage changes back to the handsome—if not vile—man I have seen for the past three—or is it for now?—days. But when I repeat the motion, his mask falls away, revealing the ugliness both inside and out.

  Am I truly resisting him? If so…how?

  He lifts me in his arms and sets me on the bed. “You have completed the punishment for failing to spin the straw into gold. There is still the matter of your errant thoughts, and your deception. Hiding the dragon from me will earn you much pain. But I think we will delay that for a time. Perhaps until after we are married.”

  That damnable cup of nectar presses to my lips, and I shake my head. “Not thirsty,” I manage, even though I am certain I cannot go much longer without water.

  “Yes. You are.” He presses his hand over my heart. “You are very thirsty, Lia. You are desperate for what I will give you.”

  The sensation builds until it feels like he is ripping a piece of my mind from my head and the thought of not drinking tears me apart, but still manage a weak “no.”

  “She dares refuse me?”

  His words are as clear to me as if he spoke them aloud, but I know he did not because his lips are pressed into a thin line.

  “What have you done with him?” I search my mind for my dragon’s name. He is my mate. He loves me. He told me there was something inside me I needed to find. “Where is Roarke?”

  My triumph at defeating the Prince’s charms is short-lived. He laughs, throwing his head back in a full-body chortle that makes my blood run cold.

  “You were, perhaps, hoping to be rescued, Lia?” he asks as he banishes the cup with a wave of his hand. “I think not. Your only hope, the pitiful creature you think you love, is completely under our control, and I believe you need to see just what that means.”

  Yes. Bring me to Roarke. Let me see him.

  The Prince throws me over his shoulder and carries me down so many flights of stairs, by the time we reach the bottom, I want to vomit from the incessant pounding in my head. A heavy stone door scrapes open, and I hear the King’s voice.

  “Take another piece.”

  A piece? Of what?

  I do not have to wait long for the Prince to set me on my feet so I can see my worst nightmares come to life.

  Blood covers the floor. Spatters, long streaks, and a pool directly under my mate’s ravaged body. One of the King’s men, a large Fae with pointed ears and a scar running down the side of his face, takes a silver blade and slides it along Roarke’s upper thigh. A thin layer of skin peels off as I slap my hand over my mouth in horror. An inhuman wail escapes his throat, hoarse and weak, and he jerks against the chains holding him.

  A burst of strength infuses my limbs, and I spring for my dragon, slipping on the blood, but managing to wrap my arms around his waist. “Roarke,” I whisper in his ear. “Fight this. Please. Let your dragon destroy them.”

  Another guard wrenches me away from him, and something buried deep inside me breaks free. Roarke meets my gaze, and his bloodshot eyes widen. “Aurelia,” he whispers. His voice fades away, or shifts somehow, and then he’s in my head. “Hide your power from them. Now!”

  His head drops and his entire body sags in his chains as I’m thrust back towards the Prince, and I shutter my thoughts, putting a lid on my rage and doing my best to appear completely and totally broken.

  It is
not difficult. Sobs tear from my throat, as the Prince grips my arms so tightly, he will certainly leave bruises. The King tips my head up, and I cry harder, hoping my tears obscure the hatred in my eyes.

  “Your dragon’s pain is the strongest we have ever felt. We could easily kill him. Take out his heart. But why when we can keep him alive for all eternity and make him suffer every single day?” He strides over to Roarke, taking the knife from the guard and thrusting it deep into my dragon’s side.

  “We will use him as an example for all the people of the realm. Bind him in the center of the Market and bring him to the brink of death over and over again. Such a powerful warning against ever lying to the Fae.”

  “Please, stop this,” I beg. “I will fulfill my bargain. There is no need—“

  The King snarls as he passes the blade back to the guard and stalks towards me again. “I could flay all of the skin from his body—and may very well do so—because of your disobedience. His pain? All of it? Is on your head.”

  “No,” I sob. “I will not resist. I will marry your son tonight if you will release Roarke unharmed.”

  “Nothing will stop the Prince from taking you as his mate, you foolish girl. I have no reason to even allow you to voice your demands. Return her to her room, my son. Then it is your turn to siphon the pure, unadulterated pain from this wretched creature.”

  The King turns away, dismissing me, and I lose control, screaming obscenities as I kick the Prince in the balls, then jump on the King’s back and wrap my arm around his throat. He sputters, wheezing, and stumbles, but with a wave of his hand, all of the air is sucked out of the room, and I am the one who falls to the floor clutching my chest.

  Roarke’s pale lips start to turn blue, and his entire body convulses in his chains. My vision darkens, and just before I pass out, the air is returned, and I suck in a loud, shuddering breath. The Prince’s guards take me—one pinning my wrists together in his hands, the other holding my ankles, and carry me from the room as Roarke screams my name.