Mark of Love (Love Mark Fantasy Book 3)

by Linda Kage

  Broken and bruised, stripped naked, shaved bald, cut open, fondled, and worrying about breathing every conscious moment because it felt as if the leather horse-bit thing that he called a retractor and forced into my mouth was constantly choking me, I seriously began to think death sounded pretty damn peaceful.

  Until Indigo’s voice echoed through my head.

  Live!

  He’d sacrificed himself and died so that I might go on. I couldn’t dishonor him by perishing here on this torture device.

  I just had to keep breathing.

  Just keep breathing, I thought to myself.

  Just keep breathing.

  Chapter 35

  Quilla

  At the end of the first day on the extractor, it felt as if they’d bled me for a lot longer than eight to ten hours. Felt more like eighty to a hundred lifetimes. I was half-conscious as both men worked together to pull the lever and flip me back around until I was on my spine and facing the ceiling instead of the floor.

  Barely a groan escaped my lips as I landed, jostling cracked and broken bones. The biggest relief was having the retractor taken from my mouth. But when I tried to work my newly freed jaw closed and wet my mouth with my saliva, the pain was too much to bear. I ended up keeping it half open and just swallowing blood to soothe my dehydrated throat.

  The men carried me to a cot by the wall. If I could have laughed, I would have when they shackled one of my ankles. Escape at any time in the near future was out of the question. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  Everett soaked a rag with water and brought it to my mouth. I sucked gratefully after gradually working my mouth all the way shut. And for some reason, that dirty rag full of water tasted like the most amazing thing I’d ever drunk.

  He cleaned my cuts next, tending to them, so I didn’t get infected and sick. I needed to be healthy enough to bleed for him again in another two days.

  Then he hand-fed me, bringing bite-sized pieces of food to my mouth, except even those were too big for my jaws to handle, so he had to mash stuff up and spoon-feed me. If I’d had the energy to defy him, I would’ve refused. But that survivor instinct in me just kept struggling. Every time I wanted to quit, it forced me to keep breathing, keep swallowing. And so I accepted everything he put into my mouth.

  I’m pretty sure I wet myself at one point. I didn’t feel myself go, but I felt the cold moisture afterward and I could smell the urine. Everett had to clean that up too. And I didn’t even care.

  Every other dignity had been stripped from me. What was one more?

  I slept through the night without waking. I probably would’ve stayed out the entire next day, too, but I kept getting awoken and fed and nursed as Everett saw to my wounds.

  A fever wracked my body that night, but Everett nursed it back down with a magic brew he’d gotten from somewhere. Afterward, I fell into another mindless sleep, only to be jerked back to consciousness by a hand fondling my breasts. They were sore and bruised already, scratched to hell from being jammed against the metal strap of the extractor. Didn’t matter how gently someone touched them now, they hurt.

  And he wasn’t gentle.

  Eyes flying open with a hiss of pain, I woke just in time to find Everett ejaculating on my stomach.

  “Wha—?” I’d healed enough to move and try to sit up, but I was still too weak for much strength, so when he pushed me back down and held me there with one hand while he finished, I just closed my eyes, turned my head aside, suffering through.

  “Ready for another day of extracting?” he asked when he was done and tucking himself away again before wiping the semen off me.

  “You won’t…” I slurred, finding it difficult to talk after the damage he’d done to my mouth. My jaws still ached and my wounded tongue wasn’t working so well. “Won’t get away with this,” I tried telling him anyway.

  “Darling,” he said with a smile as he took my sore chin in his hand to force me to look at him. “I already have.”

  I attempted to spit on him, but I ended up just kind of drooling out the side of my mouth. It did run over his hand where he was holding my jaw, though, which caused him to curse in dismay.

  And in return, he beat me until I blacked out.

  When I came to, his assistant had arrived, and they’d already strapped me down to the extractor. Unfortunately, I was awake for the insertion of my mouth retractor and the turning-over process so I could face the map.

  Which was so painful it knocked me out again.

  I spent the rest of that day in and out of awareness.

  It didn’t take me long to decide I preferred extraction days though. I remembered less on those days, and I didn’t like remembering. I didn’t like being cognizant.

  Everett was always there whenever I was awake. And I think he was growing a bit too fixated on me. He never fully raped me, but he liked to fondle. A lot. And he jacked off on me daily.

  What was worse, he started to grow kind when he fed and nursed me, stroking my bald head and telling me how much he’d take care of me because I was his now. He owned me. He swore to me that if I survived after this was over, he’d hide me from King Ignatius so the two of us could be together forever. He promised I could be the first woman in his harem when he became ruler of a newly formed Teller.

  It was probably for the best that my tongue swelled up too large for me to formulate words after the second day on the extractor, otherwise, I would’ve told him I’d die before ever willingly staying with him. And he’d no doubt find some new way to humiliate me and exert his control if I did. I really didn’t need any more pain than I was already experiencing.

  On extraction days, he was back to being clinical and cruel, showing no mercy as he made me endure excruciating moment after excruciating moment, laughing at me when I moaned or whimpered too much and hitting me if I managed to jerk out of the way and upset an incision when I was being cut.

  But I preferred his brutal, ruthless side much more than his creepy, stomach-roiling amorous side. I felt less vile and sullied on the inside during torture times.

  Days turned into weeks. I had nothing to help me keep track of time, but I’m pretty sure about fifteen days had passed when we received another visitor.

  I was on the extractor, bleeding out my lifeblood onto the map under me and trying to remember my own name.

  Quilla, I finally decided.

  Yes, I was Quilla. Quilla of House Graykey. And my parents had been…

  My parents had been…

  For the life of me, I couldn’t remember the names of my parents.

  Oh well, it’d been years since they’d been alive. Maybe I could remember other people I loved. People I’d known more recently. Like the redhead.

  Shit. What was her name?

  She was my aunt. Yes, I remembered that. And on Earth, she was married to my other aunt—hell, I couldn’t remember her name either—but those two women had been my true parents. They’d raised me to be strong. To be a survivor. To live.

  Live, a familiar voice encouraged inside my head.

  The man. He’d given me the will to live.

  I could picture his face. Dark hair and dancing blue eyes with the impish grin and pure heart. He’d loved me. And I…

  I loved him too.

  But what had his name been?

  Indigo, I realized with sudden clarity. I tried to say it aloud, but nothing more than a moan emerged.

  Indigo.

  My one true love who’d died so I could be alive today.

  I tried to say his name again.

  Everett leaned down near my ear. “What was that, love?”

  I cringed, hating his nearness. I loathed his voice, and his smell, his disturbing laugh, his rough hands, and his dead, dead blue eyes.

  I wished he was dead.

  But then he gasped and pointed at the map. “Holy shit,” he murmured. “Would you look at that?” Then he shouted. “Afton! Get over here and look at this.”

  I blinked through blurry eye
s and squinted until I made out red dots slowly beginning to appear on the map with names sputtering to life above them, and finally, some started to move as if they were walking around.

  “It’s working,” Afton murmured in awe. “It’s actually working.”

  “Of course it’s working!” Everett shook his shoulders and whooped. “It had to work. Son of a bitch, we should celebrate. We need to—go!” he ordered, shoving the younger man toward the door. “Get a jug of wine. We’re having a drink, and then we’ll send a raven to the king to report our success.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” Afton hurried out the door, slamming it shut behind him with a whoop.

  “Fucking amazing,” Everett whispered, bending close to the names. “And look! Right there. Three Graykeys grouped together in Lowden. What are those names?” Squinting, he bent closer. “River, Reeva, and Rhage, huh? Damn, it looks like the Q generation’s starting to pop out babies already. Or are they yours?” His hand stroked my hip. “Hiding some children from me, are you, love?”

  I swallowed, wishing I could shove his touch away.

  Voice going hard, he wrapped his hand painfully around the back of my neck and squeezed. “Did you spread your legs for someone else, you fucking whore?” He sounded angry and jealous as if I’d cheated on him. “Are they my nephew’s issues? The betraying little bastard. Did he drop his seed in my Graykey cunt?”

  Meaty fingers dug into the side of my throat, strangling me, just as a knock came on the door.

  “Dammit,” he muttered before letting me go with a vengeful shove to the back of my head and lifting his voice. “Come in.”

  The door opened and footsteps entered. Multiple footsteps. Alarm littered Everett’s voice when he cried an indignant, “Hey! You’re not Afton. Who the fuck are you people?”

  “Kneel before the King of Lowden.”

  “Lowden?” Sounding confused, Everett complied anyway, falling to one knee, even though he technically only served the High Cliff crown.

  Even in my dazed, pain-inflicted state, I squinted, wondering what the heck King Tomrick from House Gill would be doing, coming here.

  “Your Majesty,” Everett started. “This is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting a visit from—”

  “Yes, I know,” interrupted an urbane voice that sounded somewhat familiar, though mostly not. “But when I heard about the little experiment you were conducting over here, I thought I’d wander over and have myself a peek. After all, I believe my kingdom would benefit most from eradicating all Graykey scum. Don’t you?”

  “I’m sure you’re correct, Your Majesty. In fact, I’ve just discovered three living not far from you, just outside the capital of New Gill.”

  There was a pause. And then King Tomrick murmured a quiet, almost deadly, “You don’t say.”

  “Yes,” Everett reported eagerly. “And they’re R generation Graykeys, too. Looks like the heathens are cooking up a new batch already after we defeated them in the Great Lowden War.”

  “Indeed.” The king’s words were clipped. “Show me.”

  “It’s over here. On this map.” Footsteps drew closer. I could make out the material of Everett’s trousers, but then another appeared next to his. The king wore shiny black boots and tight yellow pants.

  “Magical cuts in the blood are making it possible to locate, name, and track every blood-born Graykey. There. See. River, Rhage, and Reeva. Not too far from your castle. Remarkable, isn’t it?”

  “Well…” The king sounded a little breathless. “I believe your contraption may actually be working after all.”

  “It is.” Everett sounded pleased. “And the dots locating each Graykey just started appearing mere moments before you walked in the door.”

  The king’s alertness seemed to sharpen. “Did they? So I’m the only person who knows about your accomplishments?”

  “Yes. I mean…” Everett paused. “You and my assistant. He ran to get a spot of ale to celebrate our success.”

  “Hmm. I’d like to meet this assistant.” A stuttered moment of awkward silence followed before King Tomrick added a belated, “To congratulate him as well, of course.”

  “Er, of course, Your Majesty. He’ll return shortly.”

  “Excellent.” Feeling eyes on me, I jolted a little when cold fingers brushed the side of my arm before the king asked, “And the woman?”

  “The woman?” Protective wariness entered Everett’s tone.

  “The naked woman you have stretched out on this torture device,” the Lowden king clarified. “I’m sure you’ve noticed her. Is she the only Graykey test subject you have?”

  “Uh, yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Hmm. Which one is she?”

  “Which…” Everett sounded confused. “Which what, Your Majesty?”

  “Which Graykey,” King Tomrick ground out, beginning to sound irritated. “Her given name, if you please?”

  “I…”

  It struck me then, when Everett faltered for an answer, that he had no idea what my name was. He’d never asked me. And I doubt anyone had told him. He’d just never cared enough to find out. He’d gotten more intimate with my person than just about anyone ever had, became obsessed enough to decide he owned me and might keep me if I survived, and yet he’d never even bothered to learn my name.

  “She’s a Graykey,” Everett finally answered. “What does her given name matter?”

  “I suppose it doesn’t.” The king sounded cold and aloof. “I’m just the curious sort.”

  “Oh. Well, maybe the map could tell us.” Everett shifted closer. “Hmm,” he added after a moment. “That’s strange.”

  “What is?”

  “It looks like there are two Graykeys here.”

  “Really?” The king wandered closer. “That is strange.”

  “Yes. One of them says Quilla Graykey.”

  “Quilla, huh?” I felt that cool, calculating gaze on me again as he murmured a resigned, “Why am I not surprised?”

  “And the other…” Everett leaned closer. I could practically hear him squint when he said, “Is Quall…Qualmer Graykey, I believe.”

  Qualmer?

  Oh no.

  I sucked in a breath, and made a sound in the back of my throat.

  But how was Qualmer here? Why would Qualmer be here?

  Everett looked up. “Qualmer. That sounds familiar. Which one was he?”

  “Which one was Qualmer?” the king repeated mildly. “Hmm, let’s see. As I recall, he’s the one who kills you.”

  “He—what? Hey! What’re you—” He jerked suddenly to his feet, only to chop the question short with a gurgled grunt. Then his slain body slumped to the floor right next to the edge of my vision. I was able to move my neck just enough to look into my captor’s wide, unseeing eyes as he gaped up at me with a death stare, his neck sliced open with blood pooling out and spreading toward the edge of the map.

  And just like that, Everett was dead. After days—weeks—of torturing me, he died so fast. And someone else had stolen my sweet revenge, killing him first.

  I moaned, not upset he was gone, but kind of worried what this meant for me now.

  Was I being rescued?

  I had a strange feeling I was not. Because if Qualmer was disguising himself as King Tomrick—

  The door to the room opened.

  “Sir, I got us the finest—”

  The sound of breaking clay filled the air as the jug crashed to the ground and shattered.

  “Damn,” the king announced. “You dropped the ale. I was hoping for a refreshing drink after this.”

  “I—who—” Afton sounded sufficiently confused. “What’s going on? Did you just kill Master Teller?”

  “Yes, but he sends his regards and wanted me to tell you what a fine assistant you made while you served him. But now you must join him in death.”

  “What?! No, I—”

  Scuffling, grunts, and curses followed when the king struck, attacking Afton as well. This one wasn’t a
short murder, as Everett’s had been. His assistant fought back. Tables were jostled, scraping across the floor, things fell and crashed on stone cobbles, more groans and growls and obscenities followed.

  Finally, the battle wound down and the survivor ripped out a long, exhausted expletive. “Son of a bitch, that was more work than I ever like to put into anything. But damn, he was a fighter.” Then he let out a short laugh. “And a bleeder. The poor, loyal sap.”

  So, I guess Afton was dead now, as well.

  King Tomrick has killed again.

  Though, at this point, I was certain he wasn’t King Tomrick.

  I tried to twist my head to see him, wondering what he planned to do with me. As if sensing my attention, he huffed out a long breath.

  “Oh, Quilla,” he sighed as if he knew me personally. His boots scuffed against the floor as he walked closer. “Quilla, Quilla, Quilla. What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

  Around us, all the guards who'd been positioned against the walls simply vanished as if they’d never been there, leaving me alone in the chamber with the fake king. He kneeled next to the extractor and tipped his head to the side so he could meet my gaze. My sight was a bit blurry after the repeated blows and swelling I’d received, but I was barely able to make out his features and tell that they were moving and changing. Morphing into a different face altogether.

  He’d been wearing a glamour, I realized, and now he was removing it.

  Once he willed his disguise away, I recognized a boy I once knew in the face of the man before me. Except he was missing an eye.

  I tried to say his name, but the retractor and swollen appendage in my mouth made it impossible for me to form words. And the moaning sound I made caused painful vibrations to ring from my vocal cords through my jaw and across the wounded tongue. I gagged and winced, falling mute.

  Qualmer simply smiled at my failed attempts. “Hello, cousin,” he greeted. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

  Chapter 36