Half Links. Like Eli said. I’m in the Underbroke below the teva fields. But he didn’t prepare me forthis. I need to find Kelter.
The crooked-haired one steps in front of me. “Back off, Trudence. She’s not one of us.”
My head clicks into place. I slide myself up the wall, pushing to a stand. “That’s right. Back off. One touch to my skin, and you’ll be screaming in pain.”
Trudence grants me a twisted smile. “That didn’t seem to be a problem when Fable dragged you in here. And trust me, he did not shy away from that fine skin of yours while you were out, Mini.”
Dammit. He could touch me while I was unconscious? More proof that it’s a choice, one I don’t know how to control.
I try not to let my voice quiver, not react to the name she gave me, as if my own didn’t matter. “Don’t assume it’s not an intentional attack.”
Trudence dives past the uneven-haired woman and tackles me tothe ground, her breasts almost in my face. I can’t grab onto her, but she’s already crying out from the contact, her face begging for relief.
She finally manages to roll off me, then lies at my side recovering. Her dry cackle raises the fine hairs on the back of my neck. “Look at that. Mini wasn’t bluffing.” She props her head up in her palm to better peruse my body. “I don’t know how you’re unlinked and have magic that doesn’t require the touch of your hands, but I think it’s delightful. You’re a weapon. We can use you against the greedy ones.” She smiles down at me. “Do you know how long it’s been since I was chosen?”
I control my breathing with trembling muscles.
“Here she goes again,” the one who blocked me says. She tucks the longer side of her hair behind her ear and rolls her eyes.
“Shut up, Paisel. You were chosen last week,” Trudence snaps.
“Chosen for what?” I try to wriggle backward to gain some distance between us. Her rancid breath stings my nose.
“As Trophy, of course,” she lilts. “The newest male addition to the Underbroke selects his opponent in a fight to the death. The winner selects his Trophy from one of us”—she gestures to the others—“and keeps her until she bores him. But I lost my link when I was thirty-five. I’ve been here for years. What fresh Half Link man wants an old pussy like mine?”
“None if it stinks like your breath.” With great, graceless effort, I sit up and press my back against the wall again, now noticing the exit is unguarded. What horrors must wander beyond these walls if the women choose not to leave? “That’s what you all want here? To be chosen as a fuck-trophy, used until you’re not wanted anymore?”
Paisel tugs at her chopped hair, lips pouted. “What else would we care about? We wait months for our turn, practicing on each other, strengthening our tongues, working on our flexibility. Deena has the stamina of a wild creature, and Lira has the best moan.” She points the two out to me, both busy with other women. “The last one of us that could moan like her never came back after being chosen. We see her with the men on the other side of the arena sometimes, getting passed around. Being shared is the ultimate Trophy status. It means he’s satisfied enough to let others have a turn. And Half Link men—let me tell you—they’re insatiable, a thousand times more needy than us.”
My head spins. They all lost their links and resorted to this? To living only to be chosen then tossed back? Passed around?
“Butyou, Mini,”—Trudence sits up and leans over me. Spit flies from her mouth—“are just another pussy to compete with, assuming you have some control. Because what man would want his cock inside your little chamber of pain? So either help us practice, or the inevitable will happen. Do you think you’ll still be chosen if you’re a bleeding, broken mess without teeth and holes where your nipples once were?”
I shudder on the inside only, no desire to show weakness. “What if I help you get out of here?”
“Why would we want that? Zandrite has shown us incomparable compassion. He took away the pain of our dead links, of anyone we’ve ever loved. Now we follow the desires of our bodies, whether it be fucking or fighting or anything else. This is how we’re meant to live. Shameless, acting on lust and pleasing ourselves and others. What more could we ask for? It’s not like we get another link. One forever, even in death.”
My stomach churns. This is cruel. They can’t remember what it’s like to truly feel. Isn’t the pain of loss better than mindless sex for the sake of pleasure?
I pause on that. How different is that from wanting to fuck Eli while knowing he has no interest in loving me or ever being loved? So I don’t have to feel.
But without ever wrapping my heart around someone else’s, how could I expect to make all the pain in life worth living?
I can’t.
And I won’t be a Trophy.
I stand again and run for the opening, slamming my shoulder into bodies in my path like a madwoman. But they’re all madwomen. And huge. And I can barely keep my balance with my arms still tied. I fall to the ground, my forehead to the dirt, beat and surrounded.
A man’s voice interrupts my self-loathing. “Is that the new arrival down there?”
“She tried to run, Fable. Something’s wrong with her,” Trudence says.
I turn my head to the side and peek through all the ankles.
Fable frowns at the circle around me, his amber eyes gentle compared to the threatening strength in his frame. His height is intimidating, and he doesn’t even have his boots on like he did in the snow. He tilts his neck,sending golden hair into his face. “Zandrite is looking for her. Apparently, his special guest is rather attached to this one.”
I peel myself from the dirt and stand with no lack of stumbling, unsure if I’m safer with these women or with Zandrite and his guest.
