Aric smiled as if I were a child showing him a report card with straightAs. “Come on, it’s just food. It won’t hurt you.”
That was a lie.
My hand trembled, and I quickly hid it in the folds of my stained dress. The female fae remained quiet, still standing by the door.
“Be a good girl,” Aric murmured.
Anger flushed me as my gaze flew to his.I’m going to kill you.A shudder rocked me as I forced myself to take a breath.I’m going to rip your fucking head off.Slowly, I lifted my hand and reached to the plate—
He tipped forward suddenly, and I couldn’t stop my reaction. Flinching, I pressed back against the stone, waiting for the blow.
This was why food equaled fear. Why hunger had truly become painful and something to dread. It was another form of torture, one both physical and mental. I was Aric’s messed up version of Pavlov’s dog, but instead of salivating at the sound of a bell, I saw food and experienced horror.
Classic fucking conditioning at its finest.
“Take the food,” he ordered when I didn’t move. “Take the food, or I will take from you.”
Ice dripped down my spine as I found myself stuck between a rock and a more messed up rock. Reach for the food and most likely get punched or kicked or slapped or grabbed? Don’t reach for the food and he’d feed.
I chose the former, lifting my arm once more.
His other hand whipped out, catching mine. My heart jerked to a stop as he squeezed—squeezed until the bones of my hand ground together. I gasped back the cry of pain.
“You do not learn, do you, you stupid cow?” His smile twisted into a snarl that made him look more rabid animal than human. “What are you supposed to say?”
What he wanted tasted of bitter ash on the tip of my tongue.
“Say it.”
I knew what was coming.
His lips peeled back. “Say it.”
I said nothing because all I had left was my will, and I clamored to preserve that even when I knew he was going to take that, too.
“Say it!” he roared.
I swallowed hard. “Make me.”
Letting go of my bruised hand, he grasped my chin, digging his fingers into the skin. He yanked me up onto my knees withhis grip. His eyes caught mine, and there was no looking away, no blinking as his pupils seemed to constrict to pinpoints.
Without the four-leaf clover, I was like any other mortal, fully susceptible to a fae’s glamour, and it took nothing for Aric to seize control of my mind.
And in a sick way, it was sort of a relief the moment I felt the icy brush against my consciousness. Because then, I felt nothing. No fear. No hate. No dread.
Nothing.
“Say it,” he whispered, but his voice echoed throughout me. “Sayplease.”
“Please,” I repeated.
Aric’s smile returned. “Good girl.” Letting go of my chin, he dropped the plate of food in front of me. “Eat.”
I ate, using my sore fingers to pull apart the cooling meat.
“When you’re done, you will be bathed,” Aric explained. “You reek of sweat and humanity.”
Pausing mid-chew, I glanced over at the female fae who remained silent by the door. Was that why she was here? There was a niggle of concern as if the idea of being bathed should concern me, but the sensation floated away, and I resumed eating.
