Torn
Page 62

“She’s awake,” she said, speaking out into the hall.
My grip tightened on the handle. “Where am I?”
The female didn’t answer as she drifted further into the room.
“Where am I?” I repeated.
She raised a single eyebrow. “I don’t answer to you, cow.”
Cow? I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “You guys really need to come up with better insults.”
Her laugh was cold. “You should put that pitcher down before you hurt yourself.”
“No, thank you.” I glanced over her shoulder. The door was still open. I could make a run for it. I just needed a distraction. Once I was out in the hallway, though, I had no idea what I would face.
She cocked her head to the side. “We are having food brought to you. If you misbehave, you will net the consequences.”
“Ooh. Scary.”
The female’s lip curled. “I think we should starve you. Maybe then, when hunger is gnawing at you, you will gladly open your thighs—”
I threw the pitcher and then took off. Well, tried to take off. My muscles weren’t exactly cooperating in a timely fashion. The pitcher smacked into the side of the fae’s head, and her outraged shriek hit the air at about the same I got my legs to actually move. I stumbled around the chair, heading for the doorway.
The fae crashed into me from behind, taking me down. I hit the floor, and it knocked the air right out of my lungs. She flipped me over, and I took a swing. My knuckles glanced off her cheek, knocking her head to the side.
“Bitch!” she spat, grabbing my arm, and then it happened so fast.
Her teeth dug into my skin, and fiery pain erupted. Screaming, I pounded the side of her head with my free hand. She was biting me! The bitch was actually biting my arm. I hit her again, along the temple, and she let go. Bright red blood trickled down the side of her mouth.
She licked her lips. “Tastes like wine.”
I rolled out from under her, scrambling to my feet as a pair of legs entered the room, blocking my way out. I was fully prepared to bum-rush whoever was standing in the way.
“Do it,” the female shouted. “Or I will break her in two.”
“The prince will not be pleased to see her injured,” a male said.
I tried to lift my head but was stopped. Cool metal hit my throat, and a loud click thundered in my head. Panicked, I reached up and my fingers slipped over a metal band—a band connected to something. A chain. Holy shit—a chain.
“Like a dog. A breeding bitch,” the female fae said a second before pain exploded alongside my head, followed by intense, white light and nothing more.
~
Waking up happened differently this time. There was no quicksand or struggling to open my eyes. I was knocked out one second and then I was sitting up in a rush. I swung my legs off the bed, ignoring the ache along my head. A white bandage circled my left forearm. I made it another three steps before I was pulled back.
My hands flew to the band around my neck. It was smooth with the exception of a small keyhole. Wide-eyed, I spun around. The length of the chain rested on the blue bedspread. It was thin and light when I gripped it.
Oh my God.
I pulled on the chain, seeing that it was connected to the upper-right bedpost. I rushed over to it, swallowing down the nausea. No. It wasn’t connected to the actual bed. There was a metal hook in the bedpost, like it had been planted there just for an occasion like this, and it was locked in place.
Oh my God.
“Son of a bitch.” I yanked on the chain. Metal rattled, shaking the bed, but I got nowhere. He had me chained to a damn bed! “I’m going to kill him. I’m so going to kill him!”
Fury coated the inside of my mouth. I couldn’t believe it. Wrapping my hands around the chain, I yanked with everything in me. Wood creaked but didn’t give. I guessed I should’ve been grateful that the chain wasn’t heavy. Tears of anger burned the back of my eyes. I pulled on the chain until my palms ached, until the tears hit my cheeks. This can’t be happening. Over and over, I repeated those four words, but it was happening. This was reality.
Behind me, the door opened without any warning. I dropped the chain and turned, breathing heavy. There he was. The prince. Drake. And it looked like him—dark, shoulder-length hair and olive skin. It was a small relief that he no longer looked like Ren.
“I’m going to kill you,” I promised.
He arched a brow. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
Drake chuckled as he walked toward the bed, stopping just out of arm’s reach. “You haven’t touched your dinner.” He gestured to the nightstand. A covered plate sat untouched. “You should eat.”
I reached for the plate, and Drake seemed to sense that I had no intention of eating. He was wicked fast, snatching the tray away before I could beat him upside the head with it. My hands closed around empty air. “Unchain me,” I commanded.
“I don’t think so.” He placed the tray on the table where the pitcher had been. “You’re awake for all of five minutes and you abused one of mine.”
“One of yours bit me.” I lifted my left arm.
“And she has been dealt with.” Drake faced me, crossing his arms over his chest. “I do not want you injured.”
“Really?” I laughed harshly. “You have no problem injuring me.”
“That was before I knew what you were.”
“Oh, so beating the crap out of other females is okay? Feeding on them against their will?” I said when he looked like he was going to speak. “And I’m pretty sure you injured me earlier—”