Page 36 of Vines of the Underworld

Chains and ropes decorate the stained masonry of the walls, and rows of terrifying tools glitter in the flickering light of the sconces. I almost faint when I notice an iron maiden and a spiked chair.

“All of these are inspired by your people, Celeste,” the Dreadful One whispers in my ear, guiding me to a wooden pillory. I try to resist and yank my arm free, yet his grip is relentless. “My kind would never think of harming each other in such clever ways. Yet my mother found these devices fascinating.” His voice is dripping with threat. The heavy frame of the pillory locks over my neck and wrists.

The Hunters were right. This male is a monster.

I am bent forward, exposed, and helpless. The Fae latches the device and moves to face me. His fingers lift my chin so our eyes meet.

Once again, I am hypnotized by the cold, cruel beauty of his gaze, and see my death sentence among those blue-green flames. He bites his lip in something that looks a lot like anticipation and disappears from my view.

I can hear him shuffling behind me. Oh my God, what kind of terrible torture instrument is he holding…

“You know, Celeste, deep in your soul, there is a raw, untouched corner where all primal emotions lie. Pain, aggression, lust, and pleasure have not changed much since you were nothing but beasts. Primal magic lingers among these primal drives. Concealed well, untouchable. That is why the Siphons never came for you. Yet my brethren discovered something that my mother had suspected long ago. If you stimulate these primal emotions in the magically gifted few—the Anchors—you will tap into their magic. Brace yourself, human. It’s time for my first experiment.”

I stiffen, feeling my dress travel up above my waist. I shake the pillory, trying to pull my hands out of the holes and free myself, but I know my attempts are futile. I hear the male take a sharp breath with a hiss, probably noticing my ruined lacy panties.

And then I hear the crack of a whip.

I bite my lips when the first lash lands on my exposed backside. I feel the sting across my right cheek, yet it is not as painful as expected from a six-foot eight-inch demon with a warrior build. He’s holding back, probably testing how much I can take before unleashing himself upon me. The second lash makes me squirm helplessly. A short, sharp scream escapes my lips, and the third lash catches me unprepared. The onslaught continues, and my tears wet the ancient stone floor.

“Embrace the pain, Celeste, let it lead you to the sanctuary where your magic lingers,” the demon suddenly stands before me, tucking a dark strand behind his ear, its pointy tip adorned with a stunning black earring. He leans down and studies me up close. A forked tongue darts over his full lips, and he smirks. My eyes follow the casual grace of his moves, and I notice a blatant bulge between his legs. Is he aroused?

Another crack, but I have no strength left to scream. I feel the lower part of my body hanging helplessly in the merciless chokehold of the torture device. My feet slip, and I slump, all my body weight supported by my wrists and neck. The pressure on my nape becomes too intense. Chaotic lights float around, and the ground below my feet spins. My tormentor senses it, too, and ceases his assault. Steely arms wrap around my waist, and the click of the devilish mechanism announces my release.

His experiment has failed, what will be my punishment? A shower of magical sparks and fatigue crushes over me. The sleeping spell hits me, and I rest my face against the soft velvet of his jacket, trailing off in dreamless sleep.

I wake up in the cell, sprawled on a rough, straw-stuffed mattress. It rustles when I move, and a rich, thick blanket is thrown over me, preventing the cold from seeping into my bones. I wrap it around my shoulders and risk a look around. More candles burn on the floor now; their waxy tears trickle between the rocks. I pull away from the tiny flames, terrified by the possibility of starting a fire while locked behind the massive bars. Prisoners' safety was obviously not a concern when they built the place.

I can make out a bowl full of some unknown berries and a piece of fresh-looking bread. The bucket of cold water is refilled, and I crawl toward it, numb pain in my backside reminding me of my humiliation earlier. I splash my face, then grab the food and withdraw to the farthest corner of the cell.

A dark figure watches me from the gloom, announcing the arrival of new terrors. His aquamarine orbs shimmer coldly, and his black wings are spread. Oh, God, how massive he looks.

His hauntingly perfect features remain impassive while he watches me eat. The lock clicks open when I take my last bite, and he enters, magnificent and terrifying, and I fully understand why they call him the Dreadful One.

The air around him vibrates with power, and he doesn't need words to make my body obey him. I leap onto my feet and follow him through a maze of sconce-lit tunnels, deeper into the dungeons.

The Dreadful One halts before a massive wooden door, a rusty chain with an ancient lock drops to the stone floor after he barks a command.

Then he turns to me, the flickering light making his face appear more angular. A cruel smile curls his full lips, displaying elegant yet feral-looking canines.

"What is beyond that door?" My voice is hoarse, and I’m surprised by my bravado. He seems impressed, too, and he quirks a brow, amused.

"Those who passed beyond are not to be disturbed, Celeste. Even your primitive people know that. My mother had committed many crimes," I search his phosphorescent eyes for any sign of emotion, yet he is so alien, so unreadable, "but raising the dead to do her bidding was one of the worst. They all came back changed. Mindless beasts, lost in bloodlust." I take a hesitant step back, yet his will holds me in place. He hands me a vicious-looking curved sword, and I almost drop it. The steel's cold weight feels so unusual in my hand.

"I want to see you desperate and terrified, fighting for your life. I want to see you aggressive and mindless, slicing throats, spilling guts. How fascinating it would be to watch how fear and self-preservation instincts tear down the glaze that culture and civilization have forced upon you." His turquoise gaze glows with excitement, and I feel my knees shaking. "My theory is that a life and death situation will make your magic shine like a lighthouse over a stormy sea!" he triumphantly declares and pushes the heavy door open, inviting me in with a dramatic gesture.

"You have no idea how far I am willing to go to make this right, Celeste," his voice is dangerously low behind my back, "to liberate my world. Now get in there and hand me over the power you received by some divine error!"

The change in his tone is strange, but I have other problems at hand. My feet follow his command, and a terrible stench makes me choke on my vomit. A snap of his fingers sends a couple of light wisps in. They hover high above the surface as if scared and repelled by the stench, just like me.

The door behind me closes, and the ominous sound lingers too long, reverberating against the stone walls of a rotund chamber.

Eyes are on me—cold, unblinking, dead eyes.

"The resilience of your species is one of the most fascinating mysteries of the Serpent, Celeste," I hear the muffled voice of my captor beyond the door, and I suddenly see red. That bastard!

Shuffling and dragging footsteps pin my attention back to the reeking gloom of the empty hall. I squeeze the sword with both hands, my head whipping left and right.

How many walking corpses are in here with me? My blade raised, I am determined to skewer anything within my reach.

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