I gasp and jerk my head back, slamming it into the beam. Splinters dig into my scalp, but the pain helps me focus and dispel the effects of whatever magic the Fae impart through food and drink.
How does he know?
With a roll of his eyes, the Prince presses his palms to my temples once more. “This other male…he is not Fae. He does not stand a chance against us.”
I cannot betray the man who vowed to save me. Forcing my mind to go blank, I hold onto my rage, my hatred of the Fae and everything they are. “Can you hear my thoughts now, you bloody bastard?”
Die, you piece of excrement. If you had any redeeming qualities at all, you would not have to trick a woman and force her to become your bride. You may own my body because of your father’s trickery, but you will never have my love. Nor any of my respect.
The Prince grabs my jaw, leans in, and presses his lips to mine. I scream against his kiss, flailing against the ropes binding me in any way I can, but they are too tight. This is wrong. So very wrong. Everything in me knows this is not the man I am supposed to be with, but when he forces his tongue inside my mouth, I hear his words in my head.
“You are my bride, Lia. And you will stay with me forever.”
I have no tears left to cry, but my eyes burn all the same. The Prince is right. I will be trapped here for the rest of my days. And Roarke—No!I cannot let myself think of anything but how much I hate the Prince in this moment. Not if he can hear my thoughts.
Except when I close my eyes, I see a strong, graceful dragon flying away from the tower, and when I open them again, the Prince is gone, and I fear I have just condemned not only my own soul, but Roarke’s as well.
* * *
The Prince leavesme bound to the beam facing his bed long enough my body goes numb. He has returned a handful of times, always with a bit of honeyed cake or cured meat or some of the charmed nectar that makes me feel strange. Like something is waking up inside of me, aching to be released.
Each time he tries to be sweet. To show me he is something other than completely evil. But though his words are calming, soft, and reassuring, his thoughts bleed through. We have some sort of connection—either that or I have lost my mind completely—and I can hear him whispering to me between the words he says aloud.
“What is your name?”
It is foolish. The Fae have the power to read minds. Humans do not. But I have to try something. Anything.
“I could release you, sweet Lia,” he says as he offers me a strawberry. I am beyond refusing food, even though I feel his influence over me asserting itself with each bite. “Bathe you.” He waves his hand, and a gust of wind opens another door I have been staring at all day.
The deep, stone tub wrenches a moan from my chapped lips. Steam wafts from the water within, and my aching muscles scream at me for relief.
“I am prepared to die bound to this beam,” I mumble, my tongue too thick for my mouth. “Nothing you will ever say will convince me to love you.”
“You will change your mind,” he declares as he strokes a hand over my hair. “I am a reasonable man, Lia.” He loosens the knots that bind me and catches me when I fall. My wrists are still tied, but he gathers the excess rope and carries me to the stone tub.
My muscles scream as he sets me in the hot water, and though he binds my hands to a hasp secured to the wall, he does not otherwise touch me.
“The water is heated by Fae magic. It will remain at this temperature for hours.”
I am so thankful for the chance to rest, to be warm, that I do not protest when he helps me lean back and washes my hair.
Nor when he wraps me in a towel.
Nor when he—for a moment—unbinds me and slides a white silk dress over my body. It clings to my curves and brushes my sore, bare feet.
Nor when he ties the ropes around my wrists again and then knots the end of the rope around his ornately carved headboard. “Rest, my sweet Lia. And think of me when you dream.”
The compulsion to sleep is so strong, and I am so tired and sore and completely without hope that I give in. Even though I am in his bed with his scent striking a discordant tone that skitters along my spine and threatens to drive me mad.
“What is your name?”As I drift off, I try again, and just before I slip under, I think I hear a mumbled reply. But I cannot understand the Prince’s response. I close my eyes and let the darkness swallow my fears that soon, I will actually start to care for this monster.
Chapter Ten
Roarke
Ihave visited close to one hundred cottages and shacks since I left Aurelia in that godforsaken tower, and I am no closer to finding out that bastard Prince’s name.
In desperation, I show up on Crux’s doorstep. “I need to speak to the drunkard.”
