Page 5 of Gift from the Nexus
I hear it all. There’s no silencing it.
This is all my fault. I failed her. I failed them.
Closing my eyes, I breathe through the onslaught and fortify my walls.
Five…four…three…two…one…
I’m so sorry.
Hold on, princess, we’re coming.
Two
Willow
I swore to myself, a man would never make me cower in fear again.
That was a lie.
The frigid temperature of this room does nothing to fight off the sweat glistening across my practically naked body. I’m burning up, yet my blood feels cold, frozen in my veins, and the uncontrollable, involuntary tremors surging through me cause the coarse stone to scrape across my skin.
It’s not painful.
Yet.
It’s an annoying feeling as if I’m lying on a hard, scratchy carpet that leaves behind a never-ending itch I can’t reach. Once I start thrashing around, it’ll tear my back up like I’ve been slung across the concrete.
When Gish and his Nexus first dragged me in here, I didn’t notice the fine details of this table. I was too focused on their actions. Now, as I dig my fingertips painfully into the stone, I feel the sunken grooves, the riverways carved into the surface.
I know what’s about to happen to me.
It’s happened so many times before in my life.
If there’s anything I can give my father credit for, he’s very meticulous, precise. He’ll know exactly where to slice, how deep to cut to make sure I bleed the most but don’t bleed out. Not that it would matter now. Not in this realm. I know a healing vial or a healer would have me back to tip-top shape in no time, and he could do it all over again.
“When your mother pulled this same nonsense after she ran off on me, she was returned with a mark much like this one.” My father states boredly, pressing the tip of the knife against Draken’s mating mark.
My dragon rushes to the surface, fighting tooth and nail to break free when the sharp edge nicks the silver teeth imprints, and the moment she does, the cuffs send absolute agony searing across my wrist. The sizzle of my skin is louder than my screams, and the smell of my flesh burning instantly fills the room. The scent causes a wave of nausea to hit me, and I can’t stop gagging as I choke back tears and bile.
The onslaught is so sudden my vision blackens, and I force my lungs to take deep breaths until I can see again. Mentally and physically, I was prepared for the sting of the blade, not for my hands to nearly be burned off.
I can’t stop the whimpers falling from my lips. I have no choice but to lay my hands flat, as still as possible, because excruciating pins and needles shoot up my arms every time I flex my fingers, and the skin that’s still attached to me but stuck to the cuffs pulls tightly.
“I figured with your emerging, you’d attempt to fight back. That’s why I made sure we enchanted these nifty little contraptions to burn you every time you attempted to use your magic, element, or shift into whatever little mongrel you emerged as.” My father tsks while mindlessly tracing my mark with the tip of his knife.
Elementra, this is only the beginning.
Slamming my eyes shut, I take another deep breath and force the tears, the bile, the pain, the hurt, everything, down when I feel blood running underneath my concealed bracelet. Think of them, only them.
Div—
“Don’t, Willow. Don’t call upon your magic in any way. It’ll burn you every time.”
I release a long-drawn-out breath as CC’s voice fills my mind. For a moment, I forgot they were with me. The undistinguishable sound gives my heart a little hope. I won’t endure this, again, completely alone.
“Why didn’t you warn me if you knew that’s what the cuffs were going to do? And how can we still speak like this if using my magic will trigger them?”
This is truly not the time for a conversation and ambush of questions, but I need a distraction. I don’t want to think about how badly I’m hurting, how I feel my melted skin and blood drip onto the table, or how my father is still gazing at my mating mark with pure, unfiltered disgust and hatred.