The gag comes fast. Leather jammed between his teeth, his fury silenced.
The Prophet’s hand strokes my hair like I’m a lamb instead of a woman. I bite back my bile as he lifts a strip of leather and gently places it between my teeth.
“To help you endure,” he croons.
I wrinkle my nose, narrowing my eyes to a death stare.
My heart pounds like a drumline as he walks to the altar and lifts the cattle prod—shiny, humming with anticipation.
“No,” I whisper around the leather. “No, no?—”
He comes back. Smiles. And rips the dress from my body, leaving me bare before them all. Acid scalds my throat. It takes everything to hold it down.
Gasps rise from the women. Hungry moans from some of the men. But I don’t hear any of it. I’m locked onRory, his wide, wild eyes, while he struggles against the grip of half a dozen men. He thrashes like a man possessed, his muffled rage filling the room.
I hold his gaze. I hold it like armor. Like a shield.
The Prophet presses the tip of the cattle prod to my chest—right over my heart—and clicks the button.
The electricity rips through me. I scream against the leather. My body bows against the restraints. My bones feel like they’re made of lightning, my skin flayed by fire, my soul trying to claw its way out.
Rory goes berserk. Growling. Biting. Kicking. Murder in every sound.
But I don’t look away.
I train all my attention. On the fury in his face. The pain. The love he could never hide.
And through the burning, through all the muscle spasms and shattered nerves, one truth slams through me.
I love him.
Not just this version of him, the beast burning for me. I loveeveryversion of him.
The irredeemable monster in the dungeon who took my ass. The kinky guy with his toys. The primal, raw man who massaged me before confessing he loved me, and we fucked like wolves. The butcher who gets bloody for everyone. The cook who provides food for everyone. The crazy, kilt-wearing king who tanned a hide for me, hand-made sweet and sexy lingerie for me.
I love him angry. I love him bloody. I love him wild.
I love you, Rory.I confess it like a prayer in my mind, wondering if he could possibly hear me.
If I have to burn to prove it, then light the fucking match.
Because I love them all. And I’d take a billion lightning strikes for them…until my very heart stopped, knowing they’d make it beat again.
74
Vincent
“I’M GOING TO HAVE NIGHTMARES ABOUT THIS PLACE.”
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“Strong For Somebody Else”
“Waiting on the Sun”
The tunnel groans like something alive.
Dust floats in the air like ash, clogging my nostrils. It smells like mold and old metal. Tastes like it, too. My boots crunch over loose gravel and splintered wood. I keep one hand on the wall. The other rests on the grip of my handgun.
