Page 53 of Given to the Fae
His words are expected. Mine are toneless. I give him nothing.
‘So thin and bony. And the burns on your back look like worm droppings. Did you know that?’
‘No, my lord.’
‘Well, they do. Gods, you’re a revolting creature. Looking at you turns my stomach. Locke told me he’s glad releasing doesn’t involve fucking slaves because he’d never be able to do it, not with you. He can barely bring himself to touch you. Know what he said to me?’
‘No, my lord.’
‘He told me he’d rather put his fingers in a dead cat’s arse than your stinking quim. He only does it because he’s been ordered to by Bere.’
I try to hold in the wince, but that one stings and, by his sudden laugh, he’s noticed it. I’ve given him something he can use.
Oh, no.
‘I see! You have a little slave girl crush on the big bad master?’
‘No, my lord.’
‘Yes, you do! Do you touch yourself to thoughts of him, you pathetic creature? Do you release yourself when you’re alone?’
‘I’m never alone, my lord.’
Don’t cry.
‘Do you think to seduce him?’
‘No, my lord.’
He cackles. ‘Put your back to me.’
I turn though every piece of me screams not to.
‘Bend over and touch your toes.’
My eyes clench shut as I do it and he laughs low. ‘Gods, and I thought your tits were bad. Your cunt is as ugly as the rest of you!’
‘Yes, my lord,’ I force out, hoping my voice doesn’t betray me.
‘Stand up. Put your dress back on before I go blind!’
I do as he says and when I look up, I find him so close that I can’t help but take a step back. His mouth is stretched into an impossibly wide smile that makes me quake. He’s planning something and it’s not going to end well for me.
‘You and I are going on a little walk.’
‘Where, my lord?’ I ask as calmly as I can, but he doesn’t answer, just puts the hated leather collar around my neck.
When he pulls me, I don’t move. He can’t hurt me unless he wants to be hurt. He knows that.
‘Come with me now,’ he says with a pleasant smile, ‘or I’ll make sure the next creature to get a fatal dose of fate’s punishments is a child. How easy would it be for me to show one of those gutter snipes we saw yesterday a coin and tell them all they have to do for it is throw a stone at you? Would fate kill them, Kismet?’
‘I don’t know, my lord.’
‘You don’t know? What about a mother with a few wee ones ’round her skirts, or a frail old dear.’
‘Perhaps they’d deserve it,’ I bluff, but he just chuckles. ‘Let’s see.’
He’s serious. He’ll do it. I don’t want a death on my conscious just because they were desperate for a meal.
