Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
If it was up to me, I would have let Slade kill him. He had insulted me horribly and I had never liked him—he was an odious, entitled man who treated his servants like dirt and spread nasty rumors about his peers. But I knew what trouble my brother would have ruling back home if the repulsive Noble died.
“Slade, wait!” I put a hand on his arm and felt the dark power inside him, thrumming like a second heartbeat. “You can’t kill him,” I told my new husband. “He owns half of L’Crist! If he dies, it could cause a civil war!”
For a minute, I didn’t think he was going to listen. Hornsby’s beady eyes were bugging out of his skull and he was gasping and choking, scrabbling at Slade’s fingers locked around his neck.
“Please!” he wheezed, his face turning purple. “Forgive…Sorry…”
Slade’s big body tensed and I was sure he was going to let his Darkness out entirely, like he had the night before, and just bite Hornsby’s head right off his body.
But then he took a big breath. With a visible effort, I saw his eyes turned from solid black back to gold and he loosened his grip on Hornsby, though he didn’t let go entirely.
“I ought to rip your fucking head off!” he growled, glaring down at the trembling Noble. “Nobody disrespects my wife!”
“No, please kind Sir!” Hornsby choked. His trousers had a big wet spot on them, I noticed with some satisfaction. “I did not understand!”
“No, you fucking didn’t,” Slade growled. He looked at me. “Are you sure you don’t want me to kill him?”
“You can’t,” I repeated. “It would cause trouble for my brother!”
“Don’t know why you care about that little asshole,” Slade muttered. “Fine—I’ll let him go with a warning.”
“What warning?” I asked, but he was already reaching under his suit jacket and pulling out what looked like a black handle. I stared at it, unable to identify what it was until Slade pushed a button on the end of the handle. With a humming buzz, a foot-long laser blade appeared, glowing a deep purple in the dim store.
“Tell me, asshole,” my new husband said. “Which hand do you sign your noble name with?”
“I…I…I beg your pardon?” Hornsby managed to get out in a shaky voice.
“Are you left or right-handed?” Slade said patiently. “Tell me now or I’m going to fucking guess.”
“I…I’m left-handed!” Hornsby gasped.
I shook my head.
“He’s right-handed,” I told Slade. I had seen him sign documents when he made treaties in court with my brother and my father. Since he owned so much of our little planet, he was a force to be reckoned with in Court—even by the king.
“Uh-huh, so you lied to me after you insulted my wife.” Slade’s hand tightened on Hornsby’s throat again. “You’re going to pay for that, you little fucker!”
“No, please—not my hands!” Hornsby begged.
“No, not your hands,” Slade agreed, giving the other man a shark-like smile. “Just your fingers. Stick them out—let’s see them, you fucker.”
“No, no!” Hornsby wailed. “Help!”
But his cries fell on deaf ears. I saw several of the sales associates come running…but when they saw Slade, they slowly backed away. They must know him, I thought feeling sick. They must know who he was…and what he could do to them if they interfered with his punishment of Hornsby.
Speaking of the odious Noble, he had curled both his hands into fists and was refusing to hold out his fingers for the laser knife.
Slade’s eyes had gone dark again.
“I’ll only tell you once more—hold out your fucking fingers and I might spare a few,” he told Hornsby. “If you don’t, I’ll take both your hands at the wrists. Your choice—either way you lose, asshole.”
“All…all right. All right, damn you!” Tears running down his cheeks, Hornsby finally extended trembling fingers.
Slade didn’t hesitate. With a short, practiced stroke he severed all four of the fingers on the right hand, leaving only the thumb.
Hornsby wailed and began wringing his hand in agony. The severed stumps were smoking, leaving trails of dark vapor in the air that smelled nauseatingly of roasted flesh.
“Now the other one,” Slade commanded, squeezing Hornsby’s throat even tighter. “Hold out your fingers, asshole. Or I’ll take your whole fucking hand—I swear it by She of the Four Faces!”
Whining and moaning, with tears and snot running down his face, Hornsby at last extended the fingers of his left hand.
This time Slade took the thumb and all the fingers—except for the pinky. They fell to the floor with tiny thumps like flesh-colored crayons and rolled every which way. I saw the Ducal signet ring with its sparkling ruby go flying as it slipped from the forefinger and clattered down the aisle.
Hornsby wailed hoarsely and Slade released him at last.
“Pick them up and go to the nearest Med Center, why don’t you?” he growled, kicking one of the fingers under the low rack holding the rubber genetalia. “The laser probably cauterized all your arteries and veins so I doubt you can get them reattached, but you can try.” He looked at me. “Ready to go, baby?”