Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I’m drawing a diagram of the castle into my journal when there’s a sharp rap on my door. Then it opens.
I slam my journal closed.
“If you’re done with your doodling, Whitbine is here for your examination.” Valen is cold, his haughtiness filling the air around him.
“Today?”
He only glares at me. Paler than usual, he looks particularly tired. Dark circles under his eyes and dried blood at his hairline. His or someone else’s? Besides mass murder, what does he do while he’s gone from this horrible place?
So, yes, today. Fuck. My mouth goes dry as I stand and toss my blanket over my notebook.
He sighs. “Come along. I don’t have time for your navel-gazing.”
I don’t argue. There’s no point. He can make me do anything he wants, and there’s no way I can stop him. He’s proven that again and again. The less time I have to spend with him, to interact with him, the better. Not that Whitbine is any better. In fact, my skin crawls at the thought of Gregor’s interrogator.
Valen walks beside me. I’m careful not to touch him, my arms wrapped protectively around my middle.
“Have you come up with any more clever ways to end your life?” he asks.
I glance at him.
“Not that jumping to your death was particularly clever. I expected more of you, little rabbit.”
I don’t know why he wants to goad me. Hasn’t he done enough? I try to ignore him as we reach the stairs, my apprehension growing with every step closer to Whitbine. Then I remember what Whitbine said at the ball. His change in methods.
I stop and press a hand to the cold stone wall for support. “You’re going to leave me alone with him?”
He smirks. “I didn’t realize you were desperate for some private time with Whitbine. I suppose if you insist, I—”
“Stop!” I finally meet his gaze. “I know you get off on torturing me and being as cruel as possible, but I need you to tell me you won’t leave me alone with him.”
“You’d prefer to be alone with me?” he asks, still taunting.
I can only look at him, stare into his eyes as I try desperately not to fall apart. He stares right back, his icy exterior revealing nothing.
Regret fills my mind. Regret that he caught me before I could fall all the way to my death. In a way, I did. I’m at the bottom, slowly bleeding out what little life I have remaining. There is nothing else for me, only waiting to die and wishing for it sooner rather than later.
His jaw tightens for a moment, then he takes my elbow.
I yank away from him, and he lets me. With an aggrieved sigh, he gestures for me to continue down to the Green Flame Level. “I won’t leave you alone with him. In case you weren’t paying attention at the ball, you belong to me. I don’t let paunchy little bitches like Whitbine play with my toys.”
It shouldn’t be a relief, but it is. I’m still sick to my stomach, my forehead covered in clammy sweat. I could take issue with Valen treating me like property or calling me a toy, but I don’t. It’s not that I’m choosing my battles, it’s that I’m already beaten. I have no leverage, there is no play, there is only what scraps Valen throws me.
My feet become leaden the closer we get to the interrogation room, and I reach it all too soon. Whitbine is waiting. Dressed in clinical white, his light hair slicked back neatly, he greets me with a saccharine smile and reaches for my hands.
I cringe away from him, and he gives a jovial laugh. “Always so skittish with your friends.”
I swallow the sourness rising in my throat.
“Lord Specter.” He gives Valen a small bow. “Thank you for bringing her. I will get to the bottom of her memories, I assure you.”
Valen leans against the wall and crosses his arms. Letting his head fall back, he closes his eyes. “Get to it,” he intones.
Whitbine’s smile twitches away, his gaze going dark. “I believe High Lord Dragonis instructed—”
“The high lord briefly entertained your never-ending excuses and pathetic attempts to undermine me. That is all. Now you can either do what you’ve been instructed to do, or this session is at an end.”
Whitbine scowls and pulls a pill from his pocket. Instead of handing it to me this time, he says, “Open for me,” with a clear expectation.
I shudder, hating every second of this, but I open my mouth as bidden. If I don’t, he’ll touch me and force me to take it anyway.
“There, isn’t that better?” he asks once I’ve swallowed.
“No.” I answer, his compulsion working its way through me, a silent command embedded in it. How I would love to look at this blood under a microscope, not that I’ve found a single scientific instrument anywhere in this underground mausoleum. Then again, I’ve already seen vampire blood under a microscope, haven’t I?