Page 102 of Wrongfully Magicked
“Of course, sir. It would be my pleasure.” I can’t hold back a tremor of fear at the malicious glee in his voice. He gestures toward two of the guards, and they leave the room, only returning a second later with a thick length of chains.
Garvey grabs a sturdy chair, placing it in the middle of the room with a thud, then rubs his hands in full villain fashion as he motions for Cassius to deposit me on it.
The basilisk hesitates, and I discreetly prod him forward. When he doesn’t move, I shove my fingers between his ribs hard enough that he grunts, and he reluctantly complies.
We discussed this possibility earlier and planned for every eventuality. We can’t afford for him to hesitate now. Cassius pauses at the chair, grunting as he lowers me with the greatest of care, like I’m a prized treasure to him, and it’s enough to take my mind off the fact that I’m about to be decorated in chains.
Again.
I don’t have to call my magic and build up the energy like last time. No, my flames are raging under my skin, searing my insides with the need to explode out of me. My power has never felt so volatile or out of control. I’m not sure if it’s because I’mback home and struggling to hold the horrors of my past at bay, or if my magic just wants vengeance.
“You’ll have about ten minutes or less before she burns through the drugs in her system,” Cassius warns in a grumbly voice as he straightens and steps away.
I immediately miss his cool, calming touch.
As the chains near, a wave of sickening magic washes over me, and I gulp in dread—magic restricting cuffs.
It’s going to take the full twenty minutes for me to overload them…if I’m lucky.
I nearly grunt under the weight of the chains, my shoulders bowing, and the dickhead Garvey takes great pleasure in clamping the manacles so tightly around my wrists that pain streaks up my arms and my fingertips tingle with numbness.
“That should do it!” Stuart stands and circles the desk, already dismissing the MID agents as he makes his way toward me. He cups my face, tilting my head back, and it’s all I can do not to lunge forward and take out a chunk of his flesh.
Fuck it!
Lightning fast, I latch my teeth into the fleshy part of his thumb. I yank my head back and forth, savaging his hand, and a spark of pleasure burns in my chest when my fangs lengthen and dig into bone.
Blood spills down my chin, and I glare up at him in triumph. He punches me in the ribs twice, hard enough for the bones to creak, then once more in the side of my face before my jaw unlocks.
I give him a bloodthirsty grin, welcoming the pain. “Aw, cousin, it’s good to be home again. It’s wonderful to see things haven’t changed.”
I barely finish speaking when Garvey slams the butt of his rifle into my shoulder where it connects to my neck. He hits the bundle of nerves in a way that induces maximum pain. I grunt asagony radiates along my skull, while white-hot pain shoots down my spine, incapacitating me for nearly a full minute.
If I hadn’t been chained to the chair, I would have dropped to the floor.
When I can breathe again, I can’t resist taunting him. “A love tap. How sweet! Did you miss having me in your torture chamber, big guy?”
A snarl twists his lips, and he lifts his gun to slam it into my face, only to halt when Stuart holds up his hand. My cousin runs the backs of his fingers down my cheek, and it’s all I can do not to jolt away from his creepy touch. I must not have covered my flinch enough, because a delighted smile curls his lips.
He reaches down and grabs my throat tight enough to cut off my air. “Don’t worry, cousin, dear. We’ll be sure to give you a warm welcome home. Your room is ready and waiting for you.”
Heat ravages my insides, churning at his nearness, and a bead of sweat slides down my temple. I swallow hard, struggling to hold everything back.
It’s not time to fry his ass to oblivion yet.
A slow roast so he can feel every inch of his body cooking is nothing less than what he deserves.
When I don’t give him the reaction he wants, he clicks his tongue and laughs. “Don’t worry, little cousin. You’ll be singing a different tune by morning.”
Soren takes a step forward to intervene, tiny wisps of smoke steaming up from his clothes, but Porter stops him with a subtle shake of his head. With murder in his black and silver eyes, the hellhound turns away and continues his search of the room, inching ever closer to the desk.
Soren lifts his head, sniffs the air, and I know he must be close.
We need a distraction before Stuart sends the guys away.
I metaphorically pull up my big girl panties, then spit in Stuart’s face before he can release me.
Fury sparks in his brown eyes, and I can practically see a film of insanity descend over his face. I smirk at the bastard and raise a mocking brow at him. “Ah, too bad you can’t kill me, right?”
