Page 96 of Owned By the Fae
‘On,’ he grates out.
I get on the bed.
‘On your hands and knees,’ he says.
I shudder a little bit as I remember how the healer did things today, but before I can move, he stops me and gestures to my neck.
At the bruises from Fiana, I realize. I shrug. She must not have told Rikoth to hide them as she has in the past. Perhaps she forgot, but more likely, she no longer cares that anyone knows what she does. She is Varrik’s favored elite now, from what I’ve gleaned from listening to the servants.
‘Kallum,’ I say.
Another lie flows from my tongue easily, and I see his eyes narrow.
I meet his gaze. ‘I asked for it,’ I elaborate numbly.
He doesn't say a word, and I turn, getting onto the bed on all fours as he told me and counting the stones of the wall.
I feel his fingers part me, and I wince at his breath on my core. He begins to lick me to readiness. He seems to prefer it, and he makes it feel good, but I despise the intimacy of it. I should just ready myself, but I suppose some foolish part of me doesn't because when he has to do it, he spends more time with me.
Pathetic.
When I'm wet enough to his satisfaction, he pushes into me, stifling his groan as if he doesn't want anyone to know he enjoys it. I brace myself, knowing that his pace will be quick. He wants it to be done fast so that he can leave again to go and be with Fiana.
I say again to myself that at least it's him and not one of the others, but it's a hollow comfort now. He finishes in record time, and I'm thankful that it’s over and that he didn’t force me to come. I hate it when he makes my body betray me even further. He pulls out of me and pushes my dress down to cover me as if he’s trying to pretend it didn’t happen, that his seed isn’t dripping from me.
He goes to the door. He looks furious. Much more than usual. I still barely stop myself from begging him to stay with me, to hold me.
But he hesitates at the threshold, his hand on the latch, and casts his eyes around the room. They linger on the mirror, on my reflection in it.
For a moment, I’m afraid he guesses my thoughts. His eyes find mine and in place of his anger is a sorrow that throws me.
‘I didn’t want this,’ he whispers. ‘You know that, don’t you? I never wantedthis.’
‘Yes, Dane, I’m sure that when you contacted Varrik, you didn’t think allthiswould happen.’ I scoff. ‘And, yes, I do know you never wanted me. You’ve always made that very clear.’
‘That’s not ...’ He shakes his head. ‘You don’t?—’
‘You’ve done what you came to do,’ I interrupt.
I turn away from him, not willing to assuage whatever guilt he’s clearly carrying, and a moment later, I hear the door. I don’t turn back around; instead, I go to the ewer that’s on a stand by the fire. The servants have left me a pot and a bucket of water now, so I can at least make tea and wash properly even if no one comes.
I clean the evidence of Dane away, knowing that the healer won't be here again until tomorrow now, so I don’t need to leave any evidence for him to inspect.
Afterward, I curl up by the fire, and I shake my head at myself, hoping that I dream of the Harbinger tonight so I canfind out what it’s been doing. It’s been quiet, and I wonder if it’s avoiding me. I also have a dawning suspicion that it’s keeping something from me.
If it’s hiding things, I’m sure it has its reasons, but I’m beginning to fear that the time for escape is never going to come. Successfully leaving the fold is something that's getting more and more difficult to imagine as the weeks wear on in this room. Despite Grey and Kal’s visits and their attempts to find answers, each day grows worse.
I drink the tea that Dane left on the table, glad at least that Varrik will never have a babe from me no matter what.
It tastes better than usual, and that reminds me of how much I hate this place, Dane, and what Varrik is making us do. Except that I don't hate Dane at all. I wish I did. It would make things simpler.
I hear the door again, and I errantly wonder if Kal has come back with more information about what he and Grey discovered tonight. I frown. Why would he come through the …
As I catch a glimpse of the dainty hand on the doorframe, I know it’s not a friend, and my heart sinks. But why is she back again so soon?
I steel myself not to show any of my feelings because I know that she'll magnify any emotion on my face tenfold.
I stand up in the middle of the room, facing her and not cowering. I keep my eyes on the wall behind her, and Fiana smiles at me. She doesn't even speak. She just snaps her fingers, and I fall to the ground, writhing in pain. I bite my tongue so that I don't give her the satisfaction of my cries, but my body feels like it’s on fire.
