The burns on my back throb, and the bruises that I know are forming around my neck and torso answer the call with their own pained pulse. I feel utterly depleted and afraid. I don’t know if it’s good or bad that the desolate wasteland that is my memory has no idea what’s lying in wait on the other side of these doors. Unfortunately, I’m certain that scum like these orcs only bow to bigger, scarier things, andthathard understanding has my battered body shaking with frigid fear and my empty stomach churning with acrid consternation.
A low whine comes from Ghat at the door, and his yellow eyes are fixed on me again. He draws in a deep, slow inhale, his dark gray skin almost glimmering in the fairy light. His muscles look even bigger and more formidable than they did before. His leathers hug the tree trunks he has for legs and the vile member that’s hard against his inner left thigh. Straps for more blades than I can count are built into the design of the orc’s trousers. He’s barefoot, his toenails black and long, and the small perception that they’re not wearing any other armor or clothing on their upper halves trickles into my mind. It’s as though they’re comfortable here, like wherever we are is home.
I pull in a deep breath as a boomingentersounds off from the other side of the double doors. I don’t smell any sulfur or ash, two scents that would definitely taint the air if we were in the lava mines. The atmosphere is dry and warm, or maybe that heat is coming from Eorn, the orc who’s still grinding threateningly against me. His brother opens the door, and I’m rushed in behind him. The tall doors slam shut at our backs, the sound almost deafening in the silence of the vast quarters we enter.
My blood runs cold at the sight of a large bed piled with blankets and pillows in various lush and expensive fabrics. Immense hand-painted tapestries hang on the walls, scenes of rich greenery and beautiful flowers covering their surfaces.
The Dawn Court,my mind supplies, but why I knowthatand not my name is starting to feel more maddening than the orc dick now pressed into my back. My fearful gaze lands on a dark blond fae sitting behind a wide, elaborately carved desk. His fingers are steepled in front of him, and his bright blue eyes take in my every shiver. His gaze drops to the orc arm wrapped around my waist and the yellow wet spots on my crumpled shift. When he settles his perusing stare on my neck, his dark brown eyebrow twitches almost imperceptibly. Ever so slowly, his eyes rise to my lips, pause for the briefest of breaths, and then the fae’s bright blue gaze finally settles on mine.
“You’re as beautiful as she claimed, Auset. I’m so glad tofinallymeet you.”
ChapterTwo
My ears perk up at the fae’s use of a name, but they don’t ring with any sense of keen recognition or remembrance.
Is that me...Auset?
He looks at me expectantly, but I keep my mouth shut and my forlorn voice silent. Muscle shifts under smooth bronze skin as the fae pushes out of a tall-backed chair that’s equally as ornate and carefully crafted as the desk it’s placed behind. He doesn’t look as formidable as the orcs do, but commanding power pours off of him in waves as he rounds the desk and moves closer. There’s no doubt in my being that I’m nothing but prey in a room full of predators. Eorn’s arm around my middle tenses ever so slightly as the fae moves in front of me. The hard dick digging into my back softens, and instead of that making me feel better, alarm skitters over my flesh like hunting chirp ants.
The fae lifts a hand intent on caressing my tearstained cheek, but I jerk away from the uninvited touch. Anger and fear war inside of me for control. I hold my breath and wait for him to react to my slight, to punish me. Slowly his hand drops from where he was reaching for my face, and instead he picks up a lock of my long hair. He caresses the light strands, tugging softly when he reaches the end of the tangled length flowing through his fingers. I can see in this light that my hair isn’t simply the silvery-blonde I thought it was in the darkness of the room of cages. No, I don’t even know if silver or blonde are the right words for the moonlight-colored strands that aren’t quite white or light gray, with the faintest kiss of the fairest blue. Somehow it’s all of those things at different angles. A color I don’t have a word for—although with my memory issues, that’s not all that surprising.
“Chain her,” the fae suddenly orders, and my terrified eyes snap from my contemplative thoughts back to him.
His eyes are flat, emotionless, as the orcs immediately move me to the right corner and shackle me to an upside-down-U anchor in the ground. The metal they fasten around my wrists isn’t pure iron, so it doesn’t burn, but there’s enough of it in the cuffs for me to immediately feel the drain on my energy. Ghat tugs harshly on the long chain that attaches to my wrists, and I fall to my knees, unable to support my weight against the effects of the cuffs and the orc’s cruelty.
The skin on my knees splits against the unforgiving grit of the floor, and Eorn drags his finger through the drops of blood speckling the ground beneath me, popping it in his mouth before he moves away. The bronze-skinned fae sits back in his chair, his attention now focused on the two orcs.
“Any issues?” he asks simply, but there’s tension in the question.
“No, Dorsin, it’s almost like they wanted her taken,” Eorn jokes.
“Too easy,” Ghat agrees with a rumbling laugh.
Their words don’t have a calming effect on Dorsin. In fact, he almost looks more on edge with their declarations. “And why didn’t you bring her straight to me?” he demands evenly, his eyes narrowing on the orcs.
“You told us not to be observed by anyone,” Ghat grunts, annoyed. “Tilleo was running drills when we arrived back. Wehadto stash her until he was done. We figured you didn’t want to cut your second in on what we’re doing and what we’re about to make off this?” he adds, a touch of challenge in his tone.
The fae, Dorsin, doesn’t say anything as he once again rises from his chair. This time, he strides to a long green antique buffet that has sets of tumblers and an array of liquor-filled crystal bottles decorating the top. My body reminds me of how thirsty it is as Dorsin grabs three glasses and pulls the stopper from a sparkling tall carafe. A deep crimson liquid fills each glass, and my teeth start to ache at the sight. It’s an odd reaction. Then again, it’s not like I know enough about myself one way or the other to know for sure.
For a moment, I think it’s blood, as Dorsin places the stopper back in the carafe. However, the color of the liquid is too dark and the consistency looks too thin. Shockingly, my taste buds wake up just from the sight of whatever it is. I can’t recall the taste of what’s in those tumblers, just like I can’t recall my name—or at least couldn’t before Dorsin spoke it into existence. However, I keenly crave what’s in the glasses all the same, and I suspect there’s more to it than dehydration.
“Why am I here?” I ask, my voice rough and broken like it’s more akin to grinding grains of sand than the voice of a girl with moonlight for hair.
The three males in the room all look at me, none of them bothering to answer the question as they greedily peruse my position on the ground.
“Why can’t I remember anything? What did you do to me? If you tell me, maybe I can help somehow,” I try again, but there’s no power in my commands. I’m as weak and incapable as I was when trying to keep the orc from licking up my thighs. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so bloody terrifying.
“Did you dose her with something?” Dorsin asks the orcs as he hands them their drinks.
“Only the hawx claw we discussed so she’d be out for the grab and transport.”
Dorsin nods, his stare far away in thought as it scans over me. The wordpleaseis on the tip of my tongue, ready to spill out along with the other pleas crawling up my throat. I want to beg for them tolet me go, to not hurt me, to tell me what’s going on, but I swallow down the appeals. Like a dry pill, they scrape against my throat as they plummet uselessly back to my depths. I know it’s pointless to beg. I can see it in the fae’s calculating eyes. They’ve brought me here for a reason, for ransom it seems, and if the sum isn’t to their liking, my future here is going to be filled with nothing but pain and petitions for it to stop. I need to find another way for this beast of a being to hear me…to care.
“A toast then,” Dorsin declares, giving me his back as he raises his glass in the air. “To months of planning, days and hours of execution, and a lifetime of riches to come!”
He tosses the contents of the glass back with ease, and the orcs follow suit. The sound of crystal on wood is the only noise in the room as they set their tumblers on the desk.
“My brother and I deserve something to play with tonight—”
