Page 152 of Trove’s Purpose

This was going to take a while. And unless she liked blood all over and inside of her – possible – she would want him healed before demanding he use them on her. And even if she did, he could demand the healing, claiming that he couldn’t use his fingers to their full potential so long as they were hurt in that way.

He had time. He could figure out a way out of this.

He just had to deal with a little torture first.

“Ready?” Rinnicks asked, holding up the pliers with an evil, deranged smile.

Trove met it with a happy one of his own. “Are you?”

His casual attitude brought her up short. He was, once again, acting completely opposite of what she expected. And this time, it made her angry.

“You think I’m joking?” She snarled, grabbing his fist.

“I’m sure you’re completely serious.”

“You mock me!” She growled, pulling at his fingers. Of course, he did not open them for her. He kept them tightly closed, resisting her. “You will give me your claws, or I will break your fingers first, but either way, you will lose them”

“I might,” he agreed easily, “but I will fight until I lose my fingers entirely first.”

She glared at him hatefully. And he just smiled.

“And then I really will be useless to you,” he laughed, amused by the idea. He’d spent so long dreading being purposeless, it seemed almost ironic that he was basically asking for it now.

But it was just pain. He could tolerate pain. He’d fight to feel more of it if it meant not being forced to touch this creature.

Rinnicks glared at him. He smiled back at her. A clash of wills that he didn’t actually care about winning. He was ready to lose. Accepted it already.

But Rinnicks wouldn’t win either. And she couldn’t handle that. It would only make her angrier, more determined.

Whatever it took. So long as it took as long as possible. He only needed to drag this out.

With a roar, she drove the point of the pliers into his arm. The metal cut easily through flesh. Dug deep into the muscle. He groaned through clenched teeth, letting out a low growl of pain. His fists tightened as she twisted them, his dark blood trickling down his arm, the pliers, her hand.

“You will obey me, or you will suffer,” she said, grabbing his hair and pulling, jerking his head back. “Now, open your hand.”

He chuckled painfully. “You think you’re the worst I can suffer?”

She yanked the pliers free with a squelch of blood and flesh. The cold air on the open wound made him hiss in pain, but it was quickly quenched by the heat of his blood dripping down his body.

“Give me your hand,” she demanded, raising the pliers again. This time, over his clenched fingers. She would bring them down over the digits, and she could very well break bone, might get close to amputating them.

His fingers clenched tighter. Ready to stand against the onslaught. Still smiling, because in refusing her this, in making her render him useless, he was winning.

She brought the pliers up.

He braced himself, ready for the agony.

The air was shattered by a loud, distant bang that shook the entire room, rattling the walls.

“What?” Rinnicks looked back towards the door, angered and confused.

Trove choked, nearly laughing.

A second explosion, bigger than the first, made the entire bed rock. Definitely not how Rinnicks would have imagined that happening tonight.

“So dramatic,” he said affectionately.

Rinnicks leapt from his lap, rushing to another drape along the wall. She thrust it back revealing the control panel beside the door. She tapped it impatiently.