Page 155 of Taken By the Fae

I turn to him and hope the sharp look on my face tells him I’m not impressed with his proximity.

“The more you fight them, the worse it’s going to be for you.” He frowns. “If you work with them, let them—”

“Stop,” I mutter. “What you’re asking… I won’t let them do to me what they did to you.” The thought of allowing these people to mess with my body in an attempt to make me human again—it makes me want to hurl, and cry, and scream loud enough for someone,anyone, to hear me. But there’s a good chance we’re in the middle of nowhere, locked in some bunker underground a thousand miles away from my friends—from Tristan. My chest tightens. I’ve been gone a long time. Tristan must know something is wrong. I was supposed to go back to the hotel… however many nights ago that was. Hot tears burn my eyes, and I blink before Carter can see. The last thing I need is to give any of them more ammunition against me.

“I can’t help you if you won’t cooperate.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want your help before you fucking hear me?” I shake my head. “I don’t know what your angle is—we aren’t kindred spirits or some shit because they’re trying to screw with me like they did you—so it’s time for you to leave.”

A muscle ticks along his jaw, and he grips the metal bed railing. “You’d be wise to allow me to show you kindness. What I’m doing is far more than what you’ll see from anyone else here.”

I growl at him. “Back off.”

He ignores me, leaning so close I feel his breath on my face. “I was alone in here.” He lowers his voice. “When they put me through countless tests and experiments until the reversal worked.” He swallows hard. “It was torture. Every single day, I wished it would end—that they would make some fatal mistake and kill me, just so I wouldn’t have to endure it any longer.”

The tears are back, but now they’re brought on by the suffocating fear clamping down on my chest. “Then why are you making me do this?” I whisper.

He steps away from the bed, his expression softening. “Because after it was over, it worked. They fixed me.”

I shake my head. “You were fae, Carter. An asshole one, but from what I’ve seen today, that had nothing to do with your inhuman DNA. You didn’t need to befixed. You weren’t a monster.”

He offers a thin smile. “I appreciate your candor.” He reaches over and releases the bindings around my wrists.

My pulse jumps. “What are you doing?”

“No offense, but you need a shower.”

“Gee, thanks,” I mutter, rubbing my wrists.

“Are you going to behave?” he checks, watching me carefully.

I arch a brow at him. As much as I’d like to take another shot at kicking his ass, he’s right. I need a shower; I feel disgusting. Odds are, now that I’ve tried escaping, they have more Experiment members outside my door in the event I get out.

He walks around the bed and stands at the door. “Ready?”

I nod and stand slowly, giving myself a minute to catch my balance. I grimace as I pull the IV out of my hand, dropping it on the bed, and step toward him.

When my knees bang together, too weak to move, Carter comes to my side and slips his arm around my waist. I haven’t felt this weak since I became fae and refused to feed. No… this is actually worse. They must’ve upped the dose of toxins they’ve been pumping me full of after my escape attempt.

With Carter’s arm securely around me, now would be the perfect time to feed on him, but if I try it this time and fail, I may not get another chance to get out of this room. I have to be smart about this, come up with a plan before I act again.

“Lean on me,” he says, and I do, because I have no choice.

You should get used to that. Carter's words from before echo in my ear, and the reality of them makes me want to sob. I have no control here, and they’re going to use me until they get the results they want or it kills me.

Carter helps me out of the room and down the hall to a bathroom. It has a sink, toilet, and shower. No windows or mirrors—nothing I can use to escape.

“I’ll stand outside,” he says.

I manage a nod and grip the counter by the sink for support.

“Are you okay?”

My knuckles whiten. Of course, I’m not okay. “Get out.”

He doesn’t question me again. The door clicks shut behind him, no doubt locking me inside.

I stand under the warm spray of water, staring at the white tile wall in front of me. My arms are tired, and my legs are struggling to hold me up. I’m in no condition to be taking care of myself. I wash my hair and body, and by the time I finish, everything hurts and I’m crying. This situation doesn’t feel real. I’m praying that I’ll wake up any second, shaking and in a cold sweat from this nightmare, but the longer I stand here, it becomes apparent this is my reality, and there’s a good chance I’ll never see my friends and family again.

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