Page 62 of Gilded Curses

When Zeth’s eyes met his, Orin bowed his head in thanks. It wasn’t nearly enough; when all this ended, and they were free of these monsters, he’d find a way to try to repay the demon for returning.

He didn’t know what could compensate for losing a hand, but he’d try.

“Finally!” Desmond exclaimed. “That took far longer than any of us anticipated. I was getting rather bored.”

Orin tensed when Zeth’s eyes swung away from him, his nostrils flared, and his clawed fingers curved into fists. His black skin rippled as his muscles bulged. If Zeth went for Desmond, Orin would have to intervene, even if he’d prefer not to.

When Zeth bared his teeth at Desmond, he revealed fangs that could easily rip the man’s throat out, but somehow the demon kept himself under control. Orin suspected he was thinking of his wife and son, who he loved and planned to return to.

Such thoughts were enough to keep any man in check. Before coming to the Cursed Realm, Orin never would have understood that. He did now.

“But thankfully, we have more entertainment ahead of us,” Desmond said as he turned back to the Elites. “Every loser must pay.”

Orin’s teeth scraped back and forth as Loth twisted his hands in his shirt. “I can’t watch this,” the brownie whispered.

Orin didn’t want to watch either, but he wouldn’t turn away. Zeth deserved for them to bear witness to this; it would fuel them when the time came to make these monsters pay.

One of the servants brought forth a hatchet and handed it to Desmond. When he held it high, the honed edge gleamed in the sun, and a cheer ran through the crowd.

The Elite who’d bet against him had gotten over their resentment as they practically salivated over the hatchet. Someone brought a tree log from the woods and set it twenty feet away from him. Someone lit a torch to use for cauterization afterward.

One of the guards went to grasp Zeth’s arm, but he jerked it away from the man. The demon kept his shoulders back as he strode toward the log with his chin raised and his eyes raking over every one of the assholes on the blankets.

Not one ounce of distress emanated from him; it was all pride. He wouldn’t give these bastards the satisfaction of fear. He wouldn’t scream when the blade cut through either; Orin was certain of it.

“On your knees,” one of the guards commanded.

Zeth refused to do as he ordered. Instead, he slammed his hand on the log and stared defiantly ahead as if he saw none of them.

Orin didn’t blame him; he wouldn’t kneel for these dickheads, either. Okay… maybe he would if it kept Sahira safe, but they’d have to shove him to his knees for it to happen.

Desmond grinned from ear to ear as he strolled away from the Elites with the hatchet on his shoulder. There was a little sway in his step as he leaned from side to side while walking. It wouldn’t astonish him if the freak started whistling.

Instead of walking over to Zeth, Desmond sauntered toward him. He was only a foot away when he stopped and held the hatchet out to Orin.

“It’s freshly sharpened, so it should cut clean through,” Desmond said.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Orin frowned as the guards closed in on them. One stood so close their arms nearly touched.

Orin’s gaze went from Desmond to the hatchet and back as a sick sensation filled his belly. They didn’t expect him to cut off Zeth’s hand, did they?

Of course they do.

He kicked himself in the ass for not seeing this coming and for it taking so much time to sink in. He’d underestimated the dagadon, something he hadn’t believed possible, considering he already thought the worst of them, but they’d surprised him with this when they shouldn’t have.

This was another part of their sick, twisted games.

“I won’t do it,” Orin stated.

“Of course you will,” Desmond said. “Because if you don’t, I can assure you, the little witchy vampire you’re so fond of will beg you to save her while I’m fucking her.”

With those words, Desmond decided to stop pretending he was married to Sheree. No married immortals would say or follow through on such a thing; they were entirely devoted to their spouses.

What proved this more was the big smile on Sheree’s face. The sick bitch would probably watch.

Desmond gave the hatchet a little wiggle. “One of you will lose a hand today, Prince Orin. And since we all know you won’t take yours, you will take the demon’s.”