Page 82 of Discovery of the Vampire
"That's because they didn't," he said. "They were nothing to me. Just as you are nothing."
He closed the distance between us with inhuman swiftness, his hand gripping my arm in a vice as I screamed.
But it was too late.
The world warped around me—a sudden, disorienting shift—and the chill of early morning dissolved into a gray void, an in-between place, a dimension neither here nor there but infused with power that tore through my skin and ruptured my bones as I screamed again.
Marcus's grip turned brutal, his smile never reaching his eyes. They burned with an insatiable desire for control and retribution.
"You keep disappointing me, Esme. Here I thought, for a moment, you had a bit of spine." His voice was silk over steel as he forced me onto my knees. My stomach lurched as the ground beneath us dissipated into an endless expanse of nothingness. I expected to fall right through, but instead, I landed heavily at his feet, my bones still solid after all. Pain exploded behind my eyes, and everything went black.
I awoke hours or days later, I had no way of knowing, and found myself kneeling at the djinn’s feet. I didn’t know how I was upright, but my spine was stiff as a steel rod through no effort of my own.
Marcus leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. “There she is…I’m glad you could join our conversation again.”
Fighting to keep my eyes open, I glared up at him.
“I don't like to be disappointed, Esme. Yet, thereissomething about you."
Through my tears of terror, I saw his head tilt to the side, not a hair out of place as he studied me kneeling prone at his feet.
"Yes. I still think you can be useful to me. But you need to learn that I will not tolerate laziness, and that, unlike you, I carry through with my promises."
"No," I begged him. "Please. I'll find your damn book. I just need more time." I tried to get up off my knees, but I couldn't move.
"Time," he mused, softly. "It usually means very little to me, you know. But with this…eh, I've wasted enough of it. And as for the promise I made you—” He sighed heavily. “—this is something I must carry out, so you know you can trust me. That I always mean what I say. Do you understand? That when I tell you something, it's true." Bending down, he cupped my cheek. "I need you to know that you cantrustme, Esme."
It was a bunch of bullshit. I'd learned the hard way to never trust a djinn.
Something on my face must've given away my thoughts, because his fist slammed into my face with the force of a hammer against stone. Pain erupted in my jaw as my head snapped back, helpless in its recoil. A cascade of stars scattered my vision, turning the dim room into a glittering abyss. I scrambled to throw up my shields. I didn't know if Brogan could sense me, wherever we were, but I wanted to protect him from this, if I could.
Marcus, his cruel eyes alight with a twisted curiosity, stood back, observing me like I was a rare exhibit at a mad scientist's gallery of curiosities. My head fell forward, and from the corner of my eye I saw his fist come at me again. This time, pain exploded in my cheek. Then my temple. Again. And again, as I knelt there, unable to move or defend myself. Each punch was strategically measured, not enough to shatter bones outright, but engineered with a perverse precision to prolong my agony, drawing out every second of my torment like a conductor with each note of a symphony.
"And Brogan, the vampire whose blood now runs through your veins," Marcus's voice was a purr, both inviting and repulsive. "He'll be the first to feel my wrath, and you'll watch each moment of his long, painful death, knowing it's because you failed to give me what I need." It wasn't a threat. It was a promise, as he'd said.
His foot lifted, crashing into my stomach, and I coughed, struggling to suck in air as the pain spread like wildfire.
"And then," his eyes locked onto mine, glowing with an internal flame, "we’ll see how much blood the rest of them can sacrifice before they join your man-whore.”
His fist found my chin again, snapping my head back with a force that made my neck scream in protest. I tasted blood, coppery and warm, trickling down the back of my throat. I felt my shields slipping, and tentatively, I reached out for Brogan, grateful when I felt nothing. Heard nothing.
Gradually, I retreated into my mind, removing myself from the visceral reality of my body's suffering, seeking refuge in memories and thoughts distant from here and now.
You can trust me, Esme,the djinn's words echoed mockingly, a twisted solace in his promise of violence. I wanted to laugh, and maybe I did. There were a number of sounds coming from my throat, none of which I recognized. I wondered if his anger was so all-consuming that he would forget his promise and allow death to take me.
Dios mío.The pain was a constant, relentless tide, and I swam deeper into the waters of my consciousness as I pictured Brogan's face, remembering the way he danced under the club lights, his cocky smile, and the first time he kissed me. I clung to the feeling of his presence, the soft murmur of his deep voice as he pressed his body against mine and made me his.
As I floated in my fantasy world, I lost all track of time. The hard ground beneath my knees, the chill of this nowhere place seeping into my bones, yet somehow, it all felt far away, as if I were watching it happen from outside myself.
Then, abruptly, the storm of pain ceased, and gradually, as if guided by some distant beacon, I floated back to awareness. My mouth hung open, my skull felt shattered, my ribs hurt, and I wasn't sure how I was still breathing at all.
My eyes, blurry and swollen, met Marcus's. He stared down at me, but he wasn't seeing me. His eyes were glazed over and his face wasn't contorted with rage as I might have expected, but instead held a myriad of emotions—longing, hunger, and something akin to regret.
Before I could process this change, he grabbed me, his grip on my upper arms firm yet strangely devoid of hostility. Once again, we hurtled through time and space as I struggled to breathe. My stomach flipped, my surroundings blurred, and then?—
We crashed back into reality. I struck the ground heavily among the cobblestones, the familiar smells of New Orleans filling my lungs as I gasped, fighting to stay conscious. The old tombs of the cemetery rose around me, and Marcus’s silhouette loomed over me, his figure blocking any view of the sky above.
When he spoke, his voice was filled with suspicion.
