Thankfully, he still hasn’t told anyone else.
Since I don’t trust myself to speak right now, I just give the guards a nod and then hurry down the stone steps while double-checking that I’m still keeping all of my emotions on my side of the mate bond so that Draven can’t feel what I feel.
The temperature drops as I run the final distance down into the dim stone dungeon.
Three male Unseelie fae are locked in the cells down here.
I just pick the closest one, summon a black flame of despair, and slam it right into his chest.
Pleasure floods my entire body.
After the long absence, the feeling is so intense that a moan actually slips from my lips. My knees buckle and I crash down on the ground as that incredible feeling of comfort and warmth washes over me like a perfect summer wave.
Kneeling there on the stone floor of the dungeon, I keep increasing and decreasing that black flame of despair in the prisoner’s chest until all I can feel is that perfect pleasure. It thrums inside my soul like golden sparkles. And suddenly everything feels okay again.
With that comfort wrapping around me like a warm hug, I can finally breathe properly again. There is no grief. No regret. No pain. I’m okay. Everything is going to be okay.
When the prisoner starts sobbing in despair, I at last force myself to sever the connection.
Cold harsh reality crashes back into me.
Panicked, I summon another black flame of despair and slam it into the next prisoner.
Those steel bands that had started to form around my chest immediately disappear as pleasure once again fills me. I drag in a deep breath. Just one more time. I just needed to do it one more time in order to make the transition smoother. Now, I’ll be fine.
But the moment I break the connection once more, my mind immediately begs me to do it again. Just one more time.
So I do.
And then I do it again. And again.
The prisoners in the cells cry and shake and squirm on the ground as I force emotion after emotion into their bodies just to feel that comforting warmth one more time. And every time I do it, it gets harder and harder to release it. Harder and harder not to do it again.
All of them beg for mercy, saying that they only raped someone or killed someone. That they don’t deserve this hell. But they do.
And regardless, I can’t stop.
Because every time I do, all the grief and regret that I’m drowning in after Orion’s twelve-hour torture session just feel heavier and heavier compared to the wonderful sense of comfort that my magic is giving me.
Eventually, their hearts give out.
Cold grief and searing regret crash over me like a landslide. And this time, there is no one left to use my magic on. So I just curl up on my side on the stone floor and wrap my arms around myself.
My entire body shakes. My heart feels like it’s getting crushed and my lungs feel like they’re being strangled. I can’t breathe. I can’t function. All I can feel are those awful emotions that hit me like a vicious beating.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I just lie there on the floor, feeling like something is punching and kicking the life out of me. I feel like I’m going to die. Without that comforting pleasure from my magic, I’m going to die.
But I don’t.
After a while, the intensity of my emotions starts to fade slightly. Gradually, my mind is able to sort through the panic and recognize that I’m not dying. The grief and regret still pulse inside me, but I manage to force them back to the corners of my mind again. And that acute need for my magic decreases into just a steady hunger. It’s there. But it’s not taking over all my other thoughts.
Dragging in a deep breath, I push myself up to my knees and then run my fingers through my messy hair. My gaze drifts to the three criminals in the cells. Their lifeless eyes stare out at me, still wide with panic.
My stomach turns.
Oh Goddess, I’m going to be sick.
Never again, I promise myself. I will never overindulge likethis again. I will never lose control of myself like this again. I will never let it get this bad again.
