Page 121 of Wrath of the Fae

He thinks he can hurt me. I survived the worst pain imaginable for two fucking years. Nothing he can do will ever come close.

‘Let's get those wings out,’ he sings, walking towards the table and selecting the iron water. ‘See how stoic you are as I slowly slice them from your body.’

He pours it over my breasts. He can have my screams. That’s all I’ll ever give him.

But then he soaks his fingers in it.

I thrash as he pushes them inside me. My body shakes and convulses.

I have no idea how long this goes on for. The burning. The cutting. I’m battered, bruised and exhausted by the time he slides off the hood in sheer frustration. I smile as I see the sweat on his brow and utter rage at my unwillingness to bend.

I breathe slow and steady, determined to remain conscious. I even offer him a smile.

‘You won’t hold out forever,’ he says. ‘Besides. I know of two things that will make you compliant. You were always such an obedient little whore for me when I threatened your sweet sister Ahri. Let’s see how you get on with the idea of losing another sister.’

‘Good luck with that,’ I reply in barely a whisper.

Rhea is far from his grip, and I know that Lucca and the others will soon be here. This empire of his is days, if not hours, away from crumbling. It doesn’t matter if I get buried under the rubble in the process.

He stands before me with his back straight, guiding his disgusting hands up my sides before cupping my breasts. His pleasure-filled moan makes me want to throw up all over him. And I would if I had anything to throw up. His lips curl in a sneer before he starts undoing his trousers.

‘Before I go, let’s reacquaint ourselves, shall we?’

‘Wait…’ I manage, looking at his hands as he frees his pathetic weapon. ‘Jonah… Wait!’

‘I am your King, sweet sister. Call me your king.’

I whisper.

‘What was that?’ he asks, stepping closer. ‘I didn’t quite catch what you said.’

I whisper again, mumbling the words he wants to hear.

He steps closer, the tip of his weapon resting on my abdomen.

‘Still didn’t catch that.’

‘I said…’ I groan, my hands twisting around the iron chain holding me in place. ‘My King…’

‘Yes?’

‘You’re a dead man.’

I grip the chain hard and pull myself up, throwing my legs around his waist so I can pull him into me. My ankles lock behind his back. His eyes go gloriously wide. Those eyes. Those fucking eyes. Evil peers through them. They always have, and they always will. He stole my virginity once. I will not allow him to have it again. I will not allow him to have me. Not unless I have something of his first.

I lunge, my teeth bared, and sink them into his eyelid. He hits and punches me, but I’m locked around him hard. My tongue and teeth rummage in his eye socket, and I growl with darkness as I bite and rip.

Jonah lets out a high-pitched screech as I taste blood, and with a final wrench, I rip out his fucking eye. I let him go as guards storm into my cell. They catch their fake king as he falls back, clutching his bleeding eye. He looks up at me, utterly horrified.

I have his eyeball between my teeth, and I make sure he sees as I bite down, squashing it like a grape. Disgust etches across his blood-streaked face as he staggers in the soldier’s arms.

I swallow it and let out a twisted laugh that rumbles the ground and shakes the walls. The guards step back, terrified at what they see before them.

I have no power. Nothing comes to me through this iron, but there is something inside me fighting against it.

‘Y-you’re insane!’ Jonah stammers.

I look at the soldiers.

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