Page 8 of Dark Fae's Desires
If what he says is true, that Gramps can’t storm the palace to rescue me, I simply cannot leave my fate in the hands of a bunch of mages. We could be here for years, if they are evenly matched. With a grim face, I sit again.
Suddenly, the grief of losing my men, of being torn from my family, hits me and I choke back a sob, but then openly weep, not really caring how weak it makes me look.
“Useyourpowers,” he snarls and then goes quiet again as a bright white light appears outside my cage.
My eyes go fuzzy with the sudden light, and I blink.
“Savannah,” Anders drawls, pulling back the bolt of magick he’d used to blind me. “Come to your senses yet?”
“Never!”
He tuts. “By now, your blood will be calling for me. You feel it, don’t you, Savannah?”
I refuse to answer that.
He chuckles. “As much as I would enjoy fucking you right now, I think I’m going to wait. The longer the blood oath remains unfulfilled, the worse it will be for you. You will crave me, need me to take your next breath. You will go mad without me by your side. You will do whatever it takes to be with me. Then, I will spread your legs and fuck you until my cum fills your hole and then I will disappear again, leaving you down here, begging for me to take you again.”
“Is that how your fantasies go?” I snarl, clenching my fists tight so that I don’t reach out for him. My blood wants me to. It’s taking everything that I have not to put my hand out for him to take. I’m shaking with the effort.
Laughter resounds around the dungeon, causing Anders’s face to constrict with anger.
“Shut your mouth, filth,” he barks out, looking to his left. Then he looks back at me. “I will be back for you in a little while. The more you see me, the more you will want to be with me and the more I will deny you.” He chuckles. “Yes, this is perfect torture. See you soon, little bitch.” He waves his fingers and then vanishes from sight in a puff of smoke.
Tears well in my eyes, which I blink back quickly.
He isn’t wrong with any of what he said. I can already feel the loss of him.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, and then inhale, closing my eyes to focus again. “Are you ass backwards trying to tell me to manipulate Ambrosia into letting me go?” I ask into the blackness.
“Ass backwards?” he repeats in a puzzled tone. “The pretty peacock,” he rambles on. “Pretty, pretty peacock. So colorful.”
Great. Seems his lucid period has vanished.
I stand up and start to formulate a plan. If my empathicpowers work, and they do–I can feel the horror and desperation tearing through me from my dungeon-mate–will the deeper power work? I’ve never used it. I have neverwantedto, but if there is a slight chance I can actually do this, then I have to try.
Chapter 3
Savannah
Growing tired of waiting for Ambrosia to show up again, I have no doubt that she will. She wants the throne too badly to stay away for long. I will have one chance at this. If I screw it up, I will never get close enough to her to try it again. I think I have to be touching her; I can’t see how else I can do it. I have formulated a plan that will force her to reach for me.
And then I just have to do it.
Failure isnotan option.
Scrunched up in my corner of the cage, my eyes go heavy, and I fall into a slumber, worn out from the battle, the fear of my predicament and the feelings from my dungeon-mate.
Dreaming strange dreams about people I don’t know such as a beautiful black-haired woman with glowing green eyes and a handsome man with the same eyes and short, black hair. He towers over her, smiling at her side. They toast, and as their goblets clang together, I wake up with a start.
Rapidly blinking my eyes to adjust them to the darkness, I scramble over to the other side of the cage.
“You!” I call out. “You were just in my dreams.”
Silence.
“I know it was you! How did you do that?”
Nothing.
