Page 21 of Darkness Consuming
Chapter Eleven
The Warlock
Cameron
Twenty-five days. The only reason I know it’s been twenty-five days is by the number of molding dinner plates that are towering at my side. They teeter and clatter together every time I shift in my small spot on the floor.
The closet is stifling. It’s cramped and dirty. On the first day he threw me in here, I thought I’d be sick from the constant hot air. Thank the goddess I wasn’t because I’d be stuck in here with the disgusting mess. On day two, I realized my power is a hum of quiet energy in this place. It’s painful and weak when I try to call on it. On day three, I broke one of the plates and when he arrived with my next meal, I rammed the sliver of porcelain into the King’s stomach. The wound didn’t deter him for even an instant. He didn’t kill me; beat the shit out of me, but didn’t kill me.
He didn’t kill me because I’m tied to her.
She’s alive and near. I can tell she’s near. My chest aches with a hinting pressure every time she comes close to my little prison. I push my fingers over my slick forehead and attempt to think this through.
The aching feeling within my heart reminds me of our bond. I physically feel her. Footsteps tap just above my head. It’s a pacing sound that makes energy course all through me. I stand from my small spot in the three by three space.
I have no idea how to get her attention. The magic within my veins swarms to life but it’s a dull and tiresome feeling.
Fuck it.
I guess the King’s fine china is going to have to be sacrificed. My grandmother raised me better than this. She’d be so disappointed in me.More—she’d be more disappointed in me. Her gold and white vintage tea sets flash before my mind as I take the plate in my hand.
“Sorry, Gran.”
With as much force as I possess, I chuck the plate in the air. It hits hard against the dark ceiling. I tilt my head down as chunks of the porcelain rain down on me. It pelts against my hair and shirt and I barely give it time to clatter to the floor before I throw the next one.
My boots crunch over the debris. A small, logical part of my mind tells me I’ll have to lie in this mess I’ve made, but a more insistent part of me knows this is my one chance. Over and over again, I chuck the plates into the air. The sound of the smashing china against the walls of my iron imprisonment seems to fuel my determination. So much so, that I don’t even notice when she opens the door.
Warm but dim lighting glints across the falling pieces and it’s then that I realize I’m not alone during my little temper tantrum. My boots grind the broken bits into the metal floor as I turn.
Her wide eyes assess everything about me. I swallow awkwardly when her gaze trails down my dirty clothes to the white china that litters every inch of the floor.
Hesitantly, she reaches out to me. Without a word, I take her hand and I stumble when she pulls me from the room. The warmth of her body soaks into me when she hugs me to her soft curves. My hands tense in midair for a moment before I finally wrap my arms around her.
Goddess, she feels amazing. She smells amazing. Every single thing about her is nothing short of amazing.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers against my chest.
I hate that she feels guilty because of the King. I know she hates him. No one in their right mind would have willingly helped me retrieve the book unless they hated the King.
I try to pull back but she keeps me held against her.
“It’s not your fault, Violence.” When I say I tried to pull away from her, I mean I tried with minimal effort. I love the way she feels. The soft curves of her body calm me for the first time in weeks.
Those guys from the Wild Hunt hate me for touching her. That thought alone makes my hands push lower down to the small of her back.
It’s the most natural thing in the world to hug another person. For some reason it feels different though. It makes my heart pound just from feeling her skin against mine.
I thought I was going to die in that fucking closet. I thought he’d eventually murder me in the most gruesome and torturous of ways.
And right now, I’ve never felt more alive.
