Page 108 of Ransomed to the World
He gave her wrist a brutal twist, her bones creaking.
Annora only smiled, her voice light and singsong. “Careful, or you might break it. Whatever would other people think?”
He hissed, his smile more of a baring of teeth. His chest was heaving with rage. “I’m going to love keeping you in line, half-breed. You’re an abomination. No one will interfere or care what I do to you once we’re married.” Excitement shimmered in his eyes, and he pulled her close, licking his meaty lips, his arousal grinding into her hip. “It won’t take long to break you.”
Disgust twisted in her gut, the thought of him touching her revolting. It sickened her to realize that he had a taste for violence, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many other women he’d brutalized and broken.
At least her uncle had spared her that…couldn’t have his clients dying when she killed them for touching her. That would be bad for business.
She would enjoy taking this piece of shit apart a little bit at a time.
Magic skated against her, and she glanced down when her dress quivered alarmingly. Instead of flowing fabric, the dress looked like it was made up of thousands of tiny spiders linked together, squirming as they vied for space. She could feel their furry little bodies wiggling against her, and the brush of thousands of feet on her skin. Dozens of bites pierced her flesh, and a few of the bolder spiders scurried down her arm.
“Sorry, but you’re going to have to try harder than that…really get your hands dirty.” Annora didn’t even bother trying to flick the spiders away, instead giving him a pitying look. “Your illusions are top notch, I can actually feel them on my skin, but they really don’t compare to being locked in a small space with real spiders for days on end. The pain from the bites is pretty realistic, but they’re only an annoyance. You’re missing the venom that makes the experience pure agony.”
He gaped at her, and she tutted, reaching over to close his mouth. “Daxion really hasn’t told you a thing about me, has he?”
He jerked away from her, disappointment and confusion playing across his face at her complete lack of fear. The best way to put a stop to this ploy would be to rattle him so much, he began to doubt their plans for her.
There was no fucking way in hell she would marry him.
“You wouldn’t be the first man to think he could break me. My uncle tried everything he could to bring me to heel, but he failed.” Disbelief warred in his eyes, and the jerk hiked up his chin, positive he would succeed where her uncle failed.
“We’ll see,” he sneered.
Annora nodded, stepping closer to him. “Yes, we will. I think I was twelve when he tried to skin me alive. Well, the first time, anyway. He just didn’t have the skill or the patience for it. He got better and better at it each year, but there is a delicacy to the human skin that takes years of practice to master.
“He could never perfect the skill. He would ultimately get frustrated as the skin tore or he cut too deep and took a chunk of flesh. It doesn’t just take hours…if done right, it takes days, and it’s a struggle to keep the person alive. He even had special blades created specifically for the job.”
Karl went from curious to morbidly fascinated, hanging on her every word.
“Eventually, he got bored and would finish the job by using a blowtorch to melt off my skin instead.” She grimaced as she recalled the agony. “You know the worst thing…? It’s the smell of burned hair and charred flesh. You see, he would starve me for so long that sometimes, my brain would smell the scent of cooked meat, and the hunger would claw up my insides.”
For the first time, true belief darkened his eyes and he stumbled away from her, but she stuck with him relentlessly. Darkness rose inside her, relishing the sweet taste of his fear. “My uncle did love his power tools. A nail gun was a special torture he saved for when I disobeyed. He would strap me down to a big, thick piece of wood,” Annora held her hands apart to show him the thickness, “then he would proceed to shoot nails into my flesh. Hundreds and hundreds of them. It would take hours to get it just right, so I couldn’t even move an inch. By that point, not a section of me was unmarked.
“Once done, he would hang the board upside down, suspend me from the ceiling, and wait for gravity and my own weight to rip me free. Most times, it took a day or so. It was the constant noise of my blood dripping that would drive me insane.” Annora became lost in the memory, clicking her fingernails to count off every few seconds in time to the soundless drips she could still hear. “It was relentless,never-ending, and fucking annoying as hell. Watching your life drain away a drop at a time becomes an obsession, a distraction from the pain. Eventually, it’s all you can hear—the constant, endless drip.
“Drip.”Click.
“Drip.”Click.
“Drip. Until your flesh finally rip free and you crash into a pool of congealed, decaying blood. The smell of death and rot is worse than you can ever imagine.”
She let her grin turn slightly maniacal. For each step he retreated, she followed. “So you go ahead, break my bones...that’s such an amateurish move, and really lacks creativity. A piece of advice—invest in a hammer. It’s easier to crack the bones that way.” She studied him for a moment, looking him up and down. “But you might want to start working out first. It takes a lot of stamina to break every bone in a person’s body. Hours of meticulous work so you don’t miss one.
“Are you sure you have the stomach to keep me in line?” Annora couldn’t resist taunting him when his face went pale. “My uncle may have been just a human, but he had a special talent and a vicious imagination when I refused to obey him. Don’t get me wrong…after weeks of torture, I eventually broke and did what he wanted, but every time, it took longer and became that much more work for him.”
“My god…you’re fucking insane.” This time he actually looked afraid.
“Quite possible.” Annora gave him a predatory smile. “Did my father not tell you? I heal from mortal wounds, so it takes a lot more tobreak me. I wonder if you have a strong enough constitution.”
Annora leaned closer, almost able to taste the darkness that waited under his skin. “You have some power, so you might be able to heal fast enough when I fight back, but I’m stronger. Much, much stronger—or did Daxion fail to mention that too?”
He frantically shook his head, completely rattled, stuttering as he spoke. “When…when we’re married, you…your power…it’ll be mine. We’re to be married this evening.” But his confidence was shaken, and he looked doubtful.
Ringing sounded in her ears at his announcement, and she stopped playing with him as things fell into place.
Marrying her off was the real trap, not the wards.
