Page 18 of Under a Wicked Moon
Long minutes later, the silence sat heavy between them.
“Not much to say tonight, huh?” Her voice came out hoarse, but all reasons to have caused it to sound like that—screaming from torture topped the list—made him crazy with need to punch something or kill someone.
“Your mood over there is mercurial today.” She shifted around to get comfortable, released a long sigh, and rested her head back. The move exposed the slender column of her throat and the metal collar circling it. “It’s moot to ask you how you’re doing, I suppose.”
“Why are you hoarse?”
She worked her jaw back and forth once. “I had a cold the past two days. Much better now. I don’t know how humans do it with the stuffy nose and the painful throat for days. Awful business.”
“That’s impossible.” They didn’t get human illnesses.
“Apparently, if you feed us that tasteless swill and keep us housed in the dark while constantly sedating us, our immune systems go to crap. Go figure. A human sniffled and coughed on me the last time I was taken to the…” She swallowed hard and stiffened before finishing softly, “The room.”
Her eyelids drifted closed. “Looks like they need to step up their game to keep you in better shape. My memory is hazy since I last saw you. Pretty sure they did something awful, and I’m not sure I want to remember. I don’t like the shampoo they made you take a bath with. Smells like a cheap air freshener.”
He pulled up the front of his shirt and sniffed. “Smells like the same shit they hosed me down with as a welcoming bath on day one. Maybe while I was knocked out they did it again.”
Ky got up and sat next to her on the floor. Not touching, butnear enough that the heat of her teased him. Her body vibrated with energy next to his. Her sweet scent slugged him right in the gut.
He wanted her.
Badly.
She turned, angling herself to stare up at him. Her thick, dark hair hung over one of her shoulders unbound. Her skin, pale and smooth, glowed in the red light from the only bulb allowed on in the room. Everything became hazy.
…
His body sagged as if someone pulled the plug.
“Ky? You okay?”
No answer.
“Ky?” she asked louder. She scooted next to him on the floor and felt for a pulse. Present but faint.
He was out cold.
There had been no twitching like the collar jolted him. He simply passed out.
She swallowed hard as she looked him over. There was blood on his shirt. A lift of fabric wafted a hint of the fake-floral-scented soap but revealed no obvious injury. Still, she hovered her hand above his skin. Somehow, she knew they’d cut into him. On purpose. Maybe they took something out or put something in. An uncontrollable shudder racked through her. Bile burned the back of her throat.
Had they done this to her, too? She massaged her left side, feeling nothing, as was the gift and curse of rapid healing. But intuitively she knew. They had done something there, like him.
Externally he might look healed, but internally he wasn’t rapidly healing like he should. Perhaps due to malnutrition and general abuse.
The inherent magic deep within her stirred. It wanted out.It wanted her to ask it to mend his internal damage that his weakened body wasn’t taking care of. How she knew this, she wasn’t sure. The magic enabled her to know. And he was dying.
He’d never know if she did this. The humans would never know. Using it wouldn’t cause her to glow or anything obvious. Its use would be undetectable by any non-magical person. But it would drain her if she needed to fight today.
“Ky,” she whispered. She shook him gently.
He didn’t stir.
Her moan of despair echoed through the room. “Don’t die. I don’t want to be alone in here.”
Shouldn’t have admitted it out loud. This gave the humans a new weakness to use against her—him—but she didn’t care.
Don’t die. Don’t die.
