I'm a seasoned hunter who deals with blood and gore daily, but I still grimace as my mate twists her knife under the skin at the back of the changeling's mutilated hand. Its scream is piercing, so it's a good thing Silas did some caster shit to soundproof this room. Maven also did something to this monster to keep it from thrashing around. It can only move its head and face.
I don't know shit about magic, but I do know that the smirk twisting up Maven's lips is both cute as fuck and terrifying.
My sexy little raincloud has been enjoying the screaming for the last twenty minutes. But since the changeling currently looks likeher, I'm just…silently panicking.
Logically, I know that freak isn't Maven, but it looks just like her as it wails and shrieks. If it's bothering Silas, he's hiding it well, but it's making my inner dragon even more of a pest to deal with. My veins pump with fire and fury at the thought of anything like this happening to our mate, ever—it doesn't matter that this isn't her because the visual really isn't fucking helping.
"Let's try that again," my mate taunts smoothly when it stops shrieking. "Where is Kenzie?"
The changeling tries to spit at Maven but misses. Its head lolls to the right to pout at Silas and me. "You're really going to just watch as she tortures me like this? I'm an innocent who's just trying to hide from those awful bounty hunters! My situation is no different from hers—we're both from the Nether, after all."
It says it as if it's dropping a bomb. When neither Silas nor I react, it scowls, annoyed to learn that we already figured that out.
Maven tuts in disappointment and uses the tip of her dagger to languidly pry another vein out of the back of the monster's hand. Its squealing starts again, growing more frantic the longer she toys with it.
And yes, I know that thing isn't Maven.
But fucking gods above, it soundsexactlylike her.
Finally, even though my mate seems satisfied to be getting back at the creature that took her friend, I can't take it anymore and snap, "Just answer the fucking question already!"
The changeling whimpers. "K—Kenzie is dead."
"No, she's not," Maven sighs, grabbing the creature's other mauled hand and lifting it to study the wrist. "You're taking too long to answer my questions on purpose. You're probably hoping we'll get caught and punished for missing curfew. But if you want to waste time, two can play that game. Have you ever seen an amputation with a dull knife? It takes forever, but it's beautifully unbearable."
Damn, she's brutal. I like that.
But when she pulls another weapon from out of her boot—this one a blunt blade—I start to feel queasy. Not because gore bothers me, but because I don't think I can watch even a fake Maven lose her arm.
The changeling appears to be panicking, but then it sees me and sneers. "Of course, you don't care howtheyfeel about this. You never cared how Gideon felt about things, either. No wonder he decided it was better to strangle you and be done with it after he popped your cherry."
Back up.
What?
Heat sears through my body, and my very bones shiver under the wrath of my dragon, who is losing his shit over this just like I'm about to.
"What the fuck is it talking about?" I snarl, my voice barely understandable through my dragon's rage.
When Silas speaks, I catch a glimpse of fangs. He never loses control enough to sprout fangs unless he's royally pissed off. "Is that the bastard whomanipulatedyou into bed? Explain.Now."
I almost black out as my vision bows under my dragon's attempts to get free. It wants to burn everything to the ground, and when I smell smoke, I know I'm close to combusting.
I can't let that happen, though, or I'll hurt Maven.
Her jaw clenches in annoyance, and she doesn't look away from the changeling. "I told you it might share things it has no business sharing. Ignore it or get out."
"I am not fucking ignoring this, and we're not leaving you here alone," I snap. "You promised answers, so tell me all about thisGideonmotherfucker."
"Now is not the fucking time for this," Maven warns.
That's the wrong thing for her to say because Silas loses his patience and scoops up the changeling's sword. Pressing the edge of it against the monster's neck until it draws blood, he glares at Maven.
"Enough games. Talk, or its head will roll before you get your answers."
Is he seriously going to keep Maven from finding out where her friend is? I scowl at him. "Don't fucking threaten her. Put down the sword right now, or I'll?—"
"It's fine," she cuts me off, surprising me. "I would do the same thing if our roles were reversed. It's only practical."
