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My head drops forward as she continues to observe me.
Wicked little claws chase over my bare chest, curling into my flesh before releasing to create small gashes, invisible to the naked eye. Each one burns like white hot fire, making me squirm. “What are you doing to me?”
She grabs my jaw and tilts my head up, pressing her figure against mine intimately. “I’m going to make sure no one wants you when I’m done. You’ll stumble through the streets of Ti’lith without a face anyone could bear to look at.
“If you’re lucky, that is.
“Rej’thorek will be disgusted by what you become under my thorough care.” Her claws trace my collarbone, grazing against my neck with a silent promise. “I’ll make you a proper slave, that’ll want for nothing but to please its master.”
I turn my face away and she chuckles softly, withdrawing.
“Or.” She seems to mull it over, mocking me with a finger to her cheek as she bites her lip. “Maybe I’ll keep you all to myself. My personal little plaything.”
I cringe from her next touch, but she drags my legs open anyway, regarding me with some distaste. She’s overseeing me like one would a beast at market. It reminds me of the Demon King, in a way, both entirely oblivious to my own agency.
I am a creature to be handled.
“He’s taken you several times,” she observes, no question in her tone. “And you didn’t put up a struggle.”
Heated embarrassment creeps into my skin, making me flush.
I try to speak when she puts a delicate finger to my lips. “Hush. There’s nothing you could say that I don’t already know. It’s not difficult to divine what passes through that little head of yours. It’s written all over your face.”
There’s a darkness in her touch that bites upon contact.
Even as I cringe from it, she seems amused by the pain she causes. Her expression darkens to unvarnished cruelty. “I know what to do with you.”
Her touch softens, and she peels open my lips as if to examine my teeth. I want to bite her finger off but I don’t know what she’ll do if I attack. The invisible cuts still burn like fire over my front, and if her claws can cut so deep…
“I’ll have a pillory erected in the center of Ti’lith, just for you.” Her claws drag up my thigh, leaving a blossoming burn so that I’m certain she poisoned them with something. “You’ll be clapped in, bent over for the whole of the city to see.
“A few might jeer at your predicament, but we both know what’ll happen eventually.”
My mouth goes dry.
“Someone will get bold. Maybe a fool of a zonak, first, or a trolvor or even an impatient gilak, but they will, and when they do, they’ll take you for everyone to see. They’ll fuck your pretty mouth and tear you up in pursuit of their pleasure.
“That will embolden others, and soon, you’ll be a plaything for every passing creature on the street, used until you’re overflowing with their seed. Until you can’t take anymore, and your soft little body gives out.
“When you’re useless, someone will have you taken down, and I’ll make sure they throw you to the Ur'gin pen so no part of you goes to waste.” She dons a playful little frown. “You, who were so eager to be spirited away from Protheka.”
My eyes flare at that. How does she know who I am?
“It’s all you’re worth, really.” I’m about to protest when her needling grip tightens in my flesh, a cry escaping me. She grabs a fistful of my short hair and drags my head back against the wall. “His affections are mine, you little louse.
“And I’ll be damned if you get in the way.”
She drops my head again, leaving me hanging as she rummages through a drawer for something. I can hardly imagine what she intends to do with me in earnest, but I can’t give into her threats, either.
I don’t expect Rej’thorek told me anything of importance about his life, but with how desperate she is to frighten me, I’m certain he does not reciprocate her wild passions. “He,” I begin, making her pause in her search. “He never mentioned you.”
A frigid expression comes over her as she rights herself.
I’m pleased, but only for a second as her quick knuckles make contact with my gut, slamming me hard against the wall. My eyes water, and the groan that escapes me is quickly smothered by a cold hand that clamps around my face. “Shut up,” she whispers, her lips brushing my ear. “You don’t get to speak on things you don’t know.
“You were a pet to him, nothing more.”
She releases me with what seems like disinterest, returning to her rummaging. I’m not sure what she’s searching for, but she passes a myriad of wicked devices. Spikes and whips, a long, polished pole that makes me clamp my knees together again.
