Torn
Page 61

He inhaled.
My entire body jerked as an icy burn traveled down my throat and exploded in my gut. He was feeding—oh God, he was feeding. With each breath he took, the precious commodity was stolen from me. The feeding was draining, stealing away my energy. A heavy weight settled in my stomach, barb-tipped and razor sharp. It tore through me, and distantly I recalled Val saying it could be pleasant, better than sex. I called bullshit
on that, because it felt like he was sucking out every ounce of my being.
Darkness crept in, crowding out all light and sound, and then it was more than just energy he was stealing. I fought to stay aware in my body. Too much was at stake, but the burn was everywhere, and I was shrinking away from it, pulling myself back. My hands slipped off his arms, and pieces of my will vanished, crumbling away until my body went lax, my arms falling to my sides. I saw the inky blackness filling the veins in my hand, spreading outward.
And then I saw nothing.
Chapter Twenty-One
Waking up was like dragging myself out of quicksand. Every time I thought I’d reached the surface, I was sucked back down until I was finally able to pry my heavy eyelids open. Bright light greeted me, an intense warm sunlight.
Was I dead?
I turned my head to the left and saw a large window. Gauzy white curtains were held back by sashes. I quickly deduced that I was, in fact, still alive.
And I was on a bed.
A large bed.
Jerking upright, I gasped as a rush of dizziness nearly dragged me back under. My throat ached, as did several other places. My hip felt like it needed a replacement. I squeezed my eyes shut, counting slowly as everything that had gone down with the prince resurfaced.
He’d been masquerading as Ren.
He’d fed on me.
I opened my eyes and looked at my right hand. The veins there were more prominent and a darker blue, but the black was gone, along with most of the poison. The sluggishness would linger for several hours. That I knew from personal experience.
Ren.
My breath caught as I stared down at the pale blue bedspread. I didn’t know if he was alive or dead or . . . worse. All I did know was that he wasn’t safe. The prince—Drake—had said that he was alive for now, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust those words. Sorrow welled up until a knot formed deep in my chest and tears burned my eyes.
If he was . . .
My fingers dug into the comforter as I exhaled harshly. I couldn’t let myself feel grief right now. Too much was at stake, and I was not safe. I needed to figure out where I was and how I could get far, far away from this place.
I lifted my gaze, scanning the ornate bedroom. The room was huge, with lavish furnishings. Two oversized chairs that reminded me of thrones sat in front of a large window. Across from the bed was a massive oak dresser. A standing mirror was in the corner next to an open door that led to what appeared to be a sizable bathroom.
The room smelled of rich balsam.
Gathering up my energy, I scooted toward the edge of the bed and peered down at the shiny hardwood floors. A plush white throw rug that looked as soft as a lamb covered half the floor. Carefully, I swung my legs off the bed. It was then that I realized my feet were bare. My boots and socks were gone, as was the iron stake hidden in my left boot.
I was weaponless.
“Shit,” I muttered.
With a shaky hand, I reached for the torn collar of my shirt. My necklace was gone, too. Double shit. I was susceptible to manipulation now. Tendrils of fear grew within me, washing over my chilled skin. The only way I could protect myself was to be careful, and to not let the fae make eye contact with me, but that was equivalent to the pull-out method when it came to not getting pregnant.
My hand closed into a fist and fell into my lap. As my feet hit the soft rug, a dozen horrible thoughts assaulted me. How long had Drake been masquerading as Ren? Instinct told me it was after the night I had told Ren about what I was, and he’d subsequently disappeared. I was praying that was the case, because the longer Ren could’ve been under their control, the worse things were.
Drake had touched me. He had kissed me, and I . . .
“Oh God,” I moaned, squeezing my eyes so tight that I saw tiny bursts of light.
Acids churned in my stomach as a mixture of betrayal and shame collided with anger. I was so going to kill the prince. I was going to find a wire brush and scrub down my body first, and then I was going to kill him with it.
I stood and took in my surroundings. Shuffling over to the door, I unsurprisingly found it locked. Another closed door led to an empty closet. There were no windows in the bathroom, but there was a ginormous Jacuzzi tub.
There was a small table between the throne chairs. A fancy, ceramic water pitcher that I doubt was ever used sat in the middle. Stepping around it, I checked out the window. No locks. I peered outside, and my shoulders slumped when I saw that I was several stories off the ground. There was no way I’d survive the jump. I scanned upward. Tall trees surrounded the property. The dull grass down below didn’t look like it had been touched in ages. Through the trees, I thought I saw muddy water.
I was definitely out of the city.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Turning around, I frantically scanned the room for a weapon of sorts. The pitcher was the only thing I could find. I grasped the cool handle, surprised by the heaviness. I tensed as the door opened.
A tall woman stepped inside. Even though I was without the clover, I still saw through the glamour. She was a fae, all silvery smooth skin and pointy ears. Her pale gaze moved to the bed. She frowned and turned to where I stood.