I will never sleep or even go into this room again, I promised myself, closing my eyes against the memory of the injustice that had occurred on the opposite side of the door. Feeling the immediate need to cleanse myself, I started for the bathroom. I needed to take a shower to scrub away the residue of everything I’d just endured. I had to sanitize every last unwanted touch, each cruel smirk and licentious comment from my body.
I wasn’t sure how long I stayed in the shower, but by the time I began to feel slightly clean, the windows were so fogged up, I couldn’t see through them and I also couldn’t detect my reflection in the mirror. The steam hung in the air like white smoke, vacillating from side to side like ghosts.
Stepping out of the shower, I glanced down at myself and noticed my skin was a bright cherry red. The redness was courtesy of both the unbearably hot water and the scouring I’d done on myself with a washrag. Every inch of me stung, but I forced myself to ignore the pain. Instead, I changed into the extra set of clothing Betta had procured for me a day or so earlier.
I’d been surprised when Betta had offered me the change of clothing because she wasn’t supposed to bring me anything except my meals. Regardless, I’d had little interest in wearing the baggy, hospital-issued-looking blue pants or the white T-shirt, so they’d just sat in the cabinet. Instead, I’d continued wearing the outfit I was dressed in when Luce abducted me—my maid of honor gown. As to the issue of keeping it clean, I simply washed it in the shower every evening which had done a great job of destroying the fabric, but I couldn’t say I cared. I just preferred to wear something that reminded me of being back at Kinloch Kirk where I felt safe, and most of all … loved.
But I couldn’t put that dress back on now. Not when I could still remember Gus tearing it off me while Will unzipped his pants. Truth be told, it pained me even to look at it now, lying in a crumpled heap in the corner of the bathroom, as if it, too, had been treated as irreverently as I had. Reaching for the extra change of clothing where it sat in the cabinet, I dressed in the ugly pants and baggy shirt. Then I found myself walking back into the living room like a zombie.
I stood there for a few seconds and stared at the nondescript furniture, the washed-out colors of which seemed to fade into the boring carpeting and dreary beige walls. I continued forward, my feet shuffling over the cheap carpet, providing the only sound in the otherwise pristine silence. But, if anything, I was grateful for the silence. I was glad I didn’t have to hear the sounds of the bed creaking below me or the cacophony of heavy male breathing and grunting.
I backed myself into the far corner of the living room, which was also the darkest area of the room. Leaning against the wall before sliding down to the ground, I rolled myself into a protective ball by pulling my legs into my chest. And then I just sat there. Doing nothing, looking at nothing and thinking about … nothing.
I didn’t know how long I rocked back and forth, feeling like I was lost in a heavy fog, a murky haze that numbed the pain in my body as well as my heart. I felt nothing at all. And I wondered why I didn’t feel anything—not anger, sorrow, indignation—nothing. There was just a void inside my head that was now absorbing my entire body—like a vacuum, into a weighty emptiness.
Although I’d initially considered the numbness a positive because it allowed me to separate myself from the situation at the time it was happening, I wasn’t sure if it was such a positive now. Why? Because it never went away …
Over the course of the next two weeks, I went through the motions of living, but I wasn’t really living. Yes, I was aware that Betta came and visited me, bringing my breakfast, lunch and dinner, most of which I didn’t bother eating. But I couldn’t focus on her or her conversations. The void inside my head was like watching my life through a dirty window—I couldn’t quite delineate anything around me, but I knew it was there, just the same.
As the visits from the various men of the tribe continued during all hours of the day and night, I became increasingly grateful for the void. It allowed me to escape the grim reality of what was happening to me. Without the void, I wasn’t sure how I would have survived without going completely crazy. But then I had to wonder if maybe it would have been better to sacrifice my sanity, to live within the depths of my imagination and never come out.
“I’ve come to check on you,” Luce announced cheerily. It was during one of his regularly scheduled visits, which occurred every day. It was always the same: he would enter my prison, and even though I wouldn’t say one word to him, he’d prattle on about this and that as if we were old friends discussing the weather. Then he’d ask me how I was feeling despite knowing that I had nothing to say to him and, therefore, wouldn’t bother answering. Before leaving, he’d approach me and hold his hand on top of my stomach, using his magic to ascertain whether or not I was pregnant.
And at the very idea that I could be pregnant, the nothingness inside of me would reassert itself full-bore. It would flood my body with a tranquility and calm that prevented me from pondering the subject for long. Armed with the relative safety of the abysmal void, I could put up with Luce and all of his ministrations. I could just sit or stand there, staring straight ahead, unable to see or feel anything.
“Hmm,” he muttered, just like the last handful of times he’d done this. He moved his hand around my stomach, as if he might get a better reading from a different angle. Then he sighed with visible disappointment, before saying, “Negative.”
That was the only word that sprang me from the nothingness for a brief second—the only word that allowed my soul to rise up in absolute triumph. That word allowed me to laugh in the faces of all the Guses and Wills, and myriad other men who ruthlessly used me for their own pleasure. “Negative” was the only word that made me laugh in Luce’s face, despite all the physical and emotional pain he put me through.
I could take comfort in the fact that despite everything, Luce hadn’t triumphed. My body was not and would not surrender to him.
“I do not understand it,” Luce said, shaking his head as he studied me from narrowed, angry eyes. “I imbued each of them with increased potency,” he explained, talking out loud even though it was clear he was addressing himself. I could only imagine he meant he must’ve magicked all the men who visited/assaulted me with some form of fertility charm to ensure their success in impregnating me. As to why Luce was so hell-bent on this mission, I didn’t know and, furthermore, didn’t want to know.
All that mattered to me was that no one had achieved the goal. Truly, no one had bested me.
And just like that, the numbness that had formerly reigned over me for the last two weeks suddenly shattered like a hallway full of mirrors during an earthquake. I was suddenly wide awake, aware. I felt like I’d just awoken from an incredibly long, oblivious slumber, only to be thrust into the stark light of reality.
How completely absurd, ludicrous, and comical that after everything Luce had put me through, all the emotional and physical rape, he hadn’t won. Throwing my head back, I started to laugh. My voice grew increasingly louder as my laughter continued to bubble from my lips, now uncontrollably.
At the sound of my irrepressible laughter, Luce immediately backed away from me and scowled until his angry, little face resembled a white prune. He glared at me for a few more seconds as I continued to belittle his powers with my raucous laughter. Then, apparently unable to take any more, he started for the door. Before he walked out, he turned back to face me. His eyes fuming, he said, “We will just have to ramp up our efforts; that is all,” before slamming the door behind him.
As soon as he left, the laughter died on my lips. Again, I had nothing to embrace but the silence and solitude that surrounded me. That, and the sad realization that even if my body wasn’t playing by Luce’s rules, I still had to. I had to because I remained a prisoner to my entire tribe, and I was, therefore, at their mercy. Mercy that, quite clearly, was lacking.
Sadly, if given the choice, I would have preferred death over living this way
. I collapsed against the wall in the kitchen and pressed my back against it, sliding down until my butt met the cold floor. Then I did something I hadn’t done or felt like doing in a very long time.
I cried.
Actually, it would have been more truthful to say I bawled. Tears gushed from my eyes like raindrops during a violent storm, and I started to hyperventilate. But nothing could stop the tears. I cried until my eyes grew sore and tired, and my cheeks stung. And when I thought I couldn’t possibly shed another single tear, I started to weep again.
I wasn’t just crying over my own miserable situation. I cried because I missed my sister and Kinloch Kirk. And because I didn’t know what had happened to Rand and the rest of Jolie’s people after Luce attacked them at her wedding. Yes, of course, I considered reaching out to Jolie via our telepathic connection, but it was way too dangerous. I was convinced that Luce had magical wards placed all around my prison with the intent to spy on any telepathic conversations I might attempt. Not to mention the fact that my powers didn’t appear to work within my confines anyway …
With no way to reach out to Jolie, I reassured myself that my sister and Rand were safe. I tried to imagine the two of them playing with their beautiful baby girl, my niece. And somehow, that was enough. Somehow, I managed to teleport myself to a place far away, to a much more happy reality, far different from the one I now was experiencing.
As usual, thoughts of my sister and Kinloch Kirk branched out to thoughts about Sinjin, and I immediately pictured his piercing blue eyes. I could easily recall the way his left eyebrow arched up whenever I said or did something he found amusing. The truth was that I was so scared about the prospect of forgetting Sinjin—forgetting his perfect, masculine beauty—that I purposely envisioned every angle of his face, every one of his boyish smirks.
Of course, there was a part of me that secretly hoped Sinjin would search for me and save me from the agony I now endured every day and night. But as soon as those thoughts surfaced, I had to banish them. I was more than aware that thoughts like that were not only a waste of time, but they were also dangerous. They were dangerous because they bred hope, and hope couldn’t exist in a place like this. Hope had no business here because it was nothing but the treasure at the end of the rainbow. Hope wasn’t real.
“Sinjin is the protector of the queen, anyway; he isn’t your protector,” I scolded myself while shaking my head. I was annoyed that I’d allowed myself to succumb to such wishful thinking. “And he owes you nothing,” I continued while half wondering if talking to myself was the first sign that I was really going crazy. But there was no one else to talk to, so I continued. “He’s probably already forgotten about you,” I finished. Angrily, I shoved any other thoughts of Sinjin back into the furthest recesses of my mind. All they did was depress me.
I will never see him again, I told myself, and couldn’t deny the instant depression that overcame me.
I heard the sound of the front door opening and my heart started to pound as I immediately stood up. An overwhelming sense of dread settled over me as soon as I wondered who my visitor might be. When I recognized Betta, I was beyond relieved.
With a quick smile, she closed the door behind her and hurried to the kitchen counter. She unloaded a brown box from under her arm, as well as a tray with my dinner on it. She picked up the brown box and approached me, holding it out. “Put this somewhere safe,” she said.
My eyebrows furrowed as I glanced down at the nondescript box and flipped the lid open. It was a pair of sneakers. Looking back up at her, I was about to ask why she’d brought me running shoes, when I couldn’t ever leave my prison, but she immediately shook her head. She obviously didn’t want to discuss it. I figured she must’ve known that Luce’s magic was everywhere, and, therefore, any conversations between us would probably be overheard.
I just nodded, unsure what she was up to, but also not interested enough to further inquire. I opened one of the lower kitchen cabinets and pushed the box of sneakers into it. When I stood up again, I found Betta looking at me with a large smile.
“Tonight, I brought you lasagna!”
“Lasagna?” I replied while watching her place the white ceramic plate on the kitchen table. Then she handed me a fork and knife. My stomach instantly started to gurgle because I hadn’t been able to eat my breakfast or my lunch, owing to my permanent sense of dread and anxiety. Generally speaking, I found it difficult to eat.
“I made it myself,” Betta continued. Then she studied me for a few seconds with an expression of eager anticipation on her face. Once I realized she wanted me to taste the lasagna so I could report back to her, I immediately dove into it.
“Mmm, it’s good,” I said with a counterfeit smile, my voice sounding heavy because, even though I could tell Betta hoped to improve my spirits with her offering, there was nothing she could give me that would relieve my depression.
“I hoped you’d like it,” she said with a sweet smile.
Then I started to feel bad because it wasn’t Betta’s fault that my life had turned out so completely horrible. In fact, she was the only person I actually looked forward to seeing every day because she was the only person who was nice to me.
“I do,” I offered, wishing I could say more but the words wouldn’t form on my tongue.
“Glad you like it,” she said, before starting for the front door again.
As soon as she turned her back on me, it felt like my stomach plummeted all the way to my toes and I was overcome with sadness at the prospect of being left alone again. I’d never had an issue with my solitude before, but now I was actually scared to watch her leave. I felt like the impending weightiness of the quiet within my room would suffocate me, that it would force every ounce of life right out of my body.
“Do you have to leave so soon?” I barked, my voice sounding hysterical.
Betta dropped her gaze to the floor and nodded solemnly. “I’ve still got lots to accomplish before the day is through,” she said as she reached for the doorknob.
“Okay,” I said, dropping my gaze to my toes as I forced the loneliness back from wherever it had come. I had to remind myself that there was no way the silence in the room was going to suffocate me to death.
“I wish I could stay,” she offered in a soft voice.
“Thank you,” I replied, and feeling a stinging behind my eyes, I had to force the tears back. “For everything.”
She glanced back just once before nodding and opening the door. Then she disappeared into the dark night.
***
If I’d thought my life couldn’t get any worse, it did.
After three weeks of being the most available whore on the compound, I found myself in a new situation which was just as humiliating. No, I wasn’t pregnant. Luckily, no matter how many men Luce sent to me, it seemed pregnancy just wasn’t in the cards for me. And I certainly didn’t intend to spill any tears over that fact. The idea of a baby growing inside of me was almost as horrible as the thought of having sex again.
But returning to the newest shocker … this time it came in the form of a new visitor, Adam Elliott. Adam really wasn’t all that different to any of the other men that exploited my body except he was a Daywalker.
All my life, it had been drilled into me that Daywalkers and Elementals were considered equal, but separate. Consequently, it was deemed a cardinal sin for Daywalkers and Elementals to even suggest cross-breeding. Why? Because Luce and Nairn worried that joining the two would pollute the gene pool of each species’ magic.
“Why are you here?” I demanded while I took a few steps away from Adam. He, too, seemed stunned to be standing in the threshold of my kitchen.
“For the same reason every other man comes here,” he answered snidely. But judging by his wide eyes, I could tell he was nervous. He was also incredibly young—maybe only eighteen. Although that seemed young to me, it wasn’t so young where male Daywalkers were concerned. Most only lived until their twenty-first birthdays (well, with
the exception of one male Daywalker, but he was definitely the exception rather than the rule). After that, their bodies began to shut down and die. Once the decomposition process started, they were lucky to last a week, or two at the most.
No one knew what was killing the Daywalker males, although Luce and Nairn had gained some insight when they started performing blood transfusions on the dying victims using vampire blood. Well, that was until my sister and her people blew up the compound where the experiments were being carried out. At the time, I’d thought it was an absolute travesty, but I didn’t feel the same way now.
“Does Luce know you’re here?” I inquired, spearing Adam with an expression that said I expected his answer to be a resounding no.
“Of course,” Adam replied as he nodded. “He ordered me to come here.”
I just studied him for a few more seconds as I tried to ascertain whether or not he was telling me the truth. Seeing the earnest expression in his eyes, though, I concluded he was. “How is that possible?” I asked. I figured I could push my luck with Adam because he seemed just as uncomfortable with the prospect of having sex with me as I was with him.
“Luce and Nairn recently held an assembly to announce that we will no longer keep the two lines or species separate and distinct,” Adam started while glancing down at his hands apprehensively. “So they ordered all Daywalker males to visit the female breeders.” He eyed me for a split second before his gaze fell down on his lap again. “And you.”
“Are you saying Luce wants Elemental women to get pregnant by Daywalker men?” I asked, shaking my head because this was so unlike everything I’d had ingrained into me from the time I was a small child.
“And Daywalker women will become impregnated by Elemental men,” Adam answered with a brief nod.
“Why?” I asked, still completely shocked that we were even having this conversation.
The Scent (The Bryn and Sinjin Series Book 2) Page 8
