A Shade of Kiev 3(13)
She ran her hands along my right arm until she reached my middle finger. I let out a scream as she broke it with one sharp motion.
Maybe Rhys wanted to get rid of me after all. Maybe he found out about Kiev and this is his revenge.
I thought again of Tiarni, and how I’d been forced to watch as he’d pried away her fingernails one by one.
He is sick enough to do this to me.
My thoughts were ludicrous. There was no way Rhys could have found out. But all ability to think was slipping away from me.
The queen moved onto my index finger. Another crack filled the dark hall as she snapped that one too. Darkness clouded my vision. I was close to passing out. The guard behind me slapped my face.
“No drifting off to sleep.” The queen glared up at me. “We’ve only just begun. If you stay awake long enough, and if I sever you in just the right places, you might even last until the frying.”
Grinning, she moved on to my third finger.
Then she shrieked and scrambled back away from me, dropping her knife on the floor as though she’d been burnt. The ogres holding me in place let go at the same time. My eyes rolled as I tried to make sense of what was happening.
There came a sudden gush of wind, and then I was lying in sand. I blinked and sat up. I was back on the beach outside the gates, with Rhys staring down at me.
I swore beneath my breath, cradling my broken hand against my chest. Tears of pain streamed down my face.
“How did it feel when you thought that I might not come for me?”
How do you think it felt, you bastard? I wanted to yell at him, but I felt barely strong enough to whisper. I closed my eyes and winced, biting my lip against the pain.
“It was crushing, wasn’t it?”
“What was the point of all that?” I gasped. “Why didn’t you come for me before the bitch broke my fingers?” I groaned.
“Now, you won’t forget how doubting me is associated with pain. It’s not a nice feeling. And you won’t want to feel it again.”
This man is insane.
“I don’t understand.” A fresh bout of pain shot through my arm, lighting my nerves on fire.
He bent down and unclasped my injured hand from my chest. He cupped my hand between his. A few seconds later, the pain was gone. I flexed my fingers. They moved as if nothing had happened. Then Rhys ran a finger along my cheek and lower lip. The wounds stung as he touched them, and my skin became smooth. He held out his hand and pulled me to my feet, gripping me by the waist to steady me.
“Physical pain comes and goes,” he said. “It’s inconsequential. A means to an end. But the mental pain you experienced will remain with you forever. I don’t think you’ll ever forget what just went on in there.”
You don’t say.
He began guiding me toward the edge of the ocean.
“Where are you taking me now?” I asked irritably.
“Now, I want you to feel what it’s like to not doubt me.”
Chapter 13: Mona
We reappeared in a pitch-black forest. The sound of rain on the canopy of leaves above was deafening, although the broad-leaved trees offered some shelter.
“Where are—”
I caught sight of Rhys slipping behind the trunk of a tree.
“Rhys?” I motioned to follow him.
“No, stay where you are,” he whispered back. “I’ll be right here.”
A howl pierced the night air. There was a rustling about ten feet away from me in the bushes, and the sound of sniffing. A few moments later, a massive black wolf bounded into the clearing. Its orange eyes glared at me as it bared its fangs.
“Over here,” the wolf growled.
A werewolf. But this beast was larger and more fierce than any werewolf I’d ever seen before.
There was more rustling in the bushes and half a dozen more wolves entered the clearing—all just as huge.
“What is it?”
One of the wolves began to approach closer, sniffing the air to catch my scent.
“A witch.” A deep voice spoke from behind me.
I turned around to see Rhys walking out from one of the trees.
“You,” the wolf hissed, glaring at Rhys.
“He’s the one I saw by the mountain,” a second wolf growled. “He took Isiah and her pack.”
We’re kidnapping werewolves now? When will it end?
“Yes, that’s me,” Rhys said calmly.
“I’d suggest you leave now,” the wolf snarled. “Unless you enjoy the feeling of the flesh being sucked from your bones.”
“Your witch, on the other hand,” another wolf said, “can stay as long as she likes.” Its mouth salivated as it looked at me.
The werewolves began to close in around us. Rhys gripped my shoulder.
“Stay back,” he muttered.