Page 84 of Wings of Lies
Chapter
Twenty-One
Ididn’t wake up. Only because I never went back to bed. It wasn’t for a lack of trying. I focused on my mom, closed my eyes, and tried to dream-walk to a memory of her, but my mind wouldn’t shut up.
The last dream-walk left me with a lot to think about.
Aspen flung off his blankets, standing. He yanked his sword belt to his hips, buckled it, and barreled off into the brightening forest.
Guardian, my ass.
I stood too, removing my blanket in a less forceful manner. I ran a hand through my hair, removing the bobby pins and rubber band. At my nape, my fingers yanked on a ginormous knot. Wavy strands tangled around my hands, ripping out, making me cringe. Looking at the loose strands, I grimaced at the dirt and grime under my fingernails and in the creases of my fingers.
Gross.
I bent down to wipe off the dirt on my bed when something slammed into my butt, making me face-plant. A rough hand wrenched my head back, pulling me from the ground.
The lovely itches that enjoyed tormenting my skin came to life, but this time, I didn’t hear the musical sounds of ice. No, what I heard was the dark and seductive music that came alive when I wanted to strangle Oliver.
Brock whispered into my ear. “Sometimes, when the prince goes hunting, I enjoy sharpening my knives on our prisoners.”
A tiny coil of black flame circled my pinky. That shouldn’t happen with the cuffs. But that was twice my powers had breached them.
Brock jerked my head back, exposing my neck and pressing a dagger to my skin. “Did you hear me? You wouldn’t mind that, right?”
This was one time I didn’t want to feel the seductive rage of my power. Not when it had the habit of making me indifferent and impulsive with my words. Brock didn’t let insults slide. He wanted to punish and abuse with every chance he got. In the back of my mind, I knew that. Yet the compulsion of my power leaking through the cuffs said I didn’t care.
“Actually, I don’t think there’s a time I’ve ever enjoyed your disgusting Fallen hands and their wrinkly creases.”
See, rational Lucy would’ve steered clear of poking that wound. The Lucy who suffocated on her breaths would’ve kept her mouth shut. But not this Lucy. Nope. I couldn’t even feel the fear of what Brock would do because of how easily I succumbed to the addictive song.
He started to saw into my neck as he ripped at my hair. I bared my teeth against the pain, hissing out spittle.
“If I could, I’d kill you right now. I’d carve off each appendage as slowly as I could, and seeing as your new cuffs block all your powers but healing, I’d let you heal. Then cut again.” He pressed harder on his knife as he moved it, smiling as blood trickled into my shirt. “Then let you heal.” He took away the knife and waited for my skin to knit back together the slightest bit before pressing it back into the wound.
Dots speckled my vision as I fumed with both pain and rage. Right before I either erupted in the dark flame attempting to consume my finger or pass out, a blur of black slammed into Brock and ripped him away.
“What did I tell you about touching her?” Aspen seethed. His fist gripped the collar of Brock’s shirt, bringing them nose to nose.
“The queen saidmostly.”
Aspen scoffed, shoved Brock away, and slammed a string of squirrels into his chest. “Cook these,” he demanded.
Brock sent him a heated glare, but Aspen didn’t see it as he turned to me. His eyes latched onto my neck, making the blue of his eyes spark. “There’s a river,” he said, gesturing behind him. “To clean that and wash yourself.”
Aspen held my gaze for a long moment before crouching down and pulling out a key. “Give me your ankles.”
I glared at him, having difficulty coming down from my rage.
“Come on, Lucille. Turn over.”
His voice seemed different now that I remembered the sound from before, when he’d say,“Stay here, stay put, stay safe.”
I glanced at his neck, finding the chain and the peeking ruby wing. The deadly music and rage quieted, replaced by a fragile confusion.
I turned to my bottom and placed my ankles in front of him, watching as he unlocked one and re-cuffed it to my other leg. Maybe away from Brock, I could work up the courage to ask him about the memory, if he’d even tell me the truth. He went from spewing words of safety to taking me against my will.
He pocketed the key with his eyes drilling into the cut on my neck like it personally insulted him.
