Page 48 of Empire of Dark

She had no clue I was here, watching her, her body half turned away from me.

What in the hell was she doing?

I shifted to the left side of the doorway as quietly as I could to gain a sightline to her face.

A flash of silver.

Her dagger in her hand, the tip of it sawing at her own forehead. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Bile surged up onto my tongue.

She needed to be free of this place, of me, so much so that she would mutilate herself?

“What the hell are you doing?” Ducking under the arched doorway, I charged into the room, skidding to a stop, my shins hitting her bent knees, my hand poised to rip the blade from her hand.

Wait.

Where was the blood?

The tip of her blade continued to scratch across her skull, her eyes closed. She didn’t have a clue I’d just come into the room.

I leaned over her. “What the hell are you doing, Ada?”

Her body jerked at the sound, but her eyes stayed closed. “I just want it out.” Her words a pitiful cry I could barely understand and she didn’t stop gouging at her forehead with the knife. Back and forth, the skin bunching with every slice.

Her skin didn’t break, but the bone underneath it shifted, cracked.

“No. Stop.” I grabbed her wrist, yanking the blade out of her hand, and I tossed it toward the doorway. It clanked hard onto the damp stone.

At that, her head shifted, slow, like she was five seconds behind everything happening around her. Her eyes finally opened and she twisted her face toward me, her look creeping up my body until she found my stare. Her green eyes were glazed over and I couldn’t tell if she actually saw me.

“Give it back. I have to get it out.” Each word heaved out of her chest with piercing pain. So much damn pain in every muscle of her face, in her eyes squeezing out raw teardrops.

Fuck me.

Tears and pain and my damn cock usually clenched, jumping to life. But pain like this wasn’t my thing. Never was. Not tears born out of soul-wrenching pain.

I liked screaming pain, pain mixed with pleasure. Fun pain. Pain from my hand.

Not this. Never this.

And hell. On her the pain gutted me, her tears shoving my damn cock into the control pit.

I dropped onto my knees, my thumb going to her forehead, running it against the skin that should be ripped to shreds by the point of the dagger but was miraculously smooth. “Get what out, Ada? What are you trying to do?”

Her eyes closed, tears pinching out of the corners of her eyelids. Her head bobbing, she could barely keep it upright as her voice eked out in a strained whisper. “The pain. It is too much.”

My thumb stilled in the middle of her forehead. “There’s nothing there—no blood, no cuts. How is that even possible? How can you be hurt?”

“I can. It’s from the inside.” Her words choked out. “It never healed right.”

“What never healed right?”

She blinked her eyes open and for one second her glazed eyes seemed to focus on me before they disappeared behind her eyelids once more. “It didn’t…” Her eyes squinted tight, more tears squeezing free as the pain—brutal—rolled through her body.

So vicious I could feel it in the air around her, feel its energy hot under my thumb on her forehead.

I was a lord of pleasure so I sure as hell could recognize pain.