Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
“Do what you gotta do. There will be no tears tonight. Or ever. No accusations or blame, either. Just...be there for me afterward, okay?” Maybe they would have that talk about what had happened between them, after all. Hearing a pledge of devotion from him wouldn’t be the worst thing.
He slitted his lids, as if she’d just shrieked obscenities. Um. Okay? Silent, he straightened, revealing two metal bands clutched in his grip. He fit each one around her throat and snapped them together. Then he lifted a table end, making her vertical.
Her chin caught on the suddenly too-tight neck band, which restricted her airway. Not enough to choke her, but enough to keep her on edge.
He eased onto the stool, rested his elbows on his knees, and peered up at her. “Start the clock,” he called without glancing at those on the dais. “We begin now.”
“Clock started,” Tonka returned.
“First question.” Roux unsheathed the dagger, gripping it by the hooked blade rather than the hilt, and flicked his tongue over an incisor. “Do you hate me?”
“Uh...yes? No?” He’d seriously asked the others that question? “I don’t know.”
The next thing she knew, agony like she’d never known somehow entered through her nostrils, as if she’d sucked it down with her last inhalation and it infiltrated her every cell. Those cells seemed to explode in her veins. Her lungs flattened, breathing impossible, and her vision blurred. But just as soon as the pain began, it ceased, taking all the complications with it.
“That was the easy part?” she screeched. “How did you do that?” Better yet, what had he done?
“I’m able to manipulate the atmosphere surrounding me. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it since I couldn’t produce sleeping gas. But I can make the pain toxin. And harpy? The ability is supercharged here. With a simple thought, I will make you and only you inhale a poison unlike anything you’ve ever encountered.” His blank expression never changed, but the red in his eyes never dulled, either. Even more telling, blood dripped from the hand holding the blade.
Her chest clenched. He hadn’t cut himself with the other combatants. That, she knew. So why do it now?
Because he insisted on hurting when Blythe hurt? He must.
The knowledge affected her. Something softened in her chest even as her determination hardened into stone. There’d be no more screeching on her part. Whatever he dished, she would take. Happily.
“Next question,” he said. “Do you plan to kill me?”
“I don’t know,” she repeated. “I’m still debating it.”
Pain hit again, and yeah, it was even worse, exactly as advertised. He let it last longer, too.
“When did you find the firstone dagger?” he asked.
“Find it? I didn’t. I—” The next wave of poison was pure agony, as if every inch of her insides had been scraped raw and bathed in acid. Sweat trickled here and there. Blood leaked from nearly every orifice; it even poured from the wounds the chains caused as her body involuntarily flailed. Multiple bones cracked.
“Fourth question,” he said. “Did you ever truly desire me?”
Blythe struggled to concentrate. His question struck her as odd...maybe? She knew nothing but a creeping dread as she anticipated the fourth wave. Need to respond. No, no, need to think!
How much longer on the clock? What had happened to her determination?
“Respond to my final question,” her tormentor insisted.
“F-final?” She had to endure the pain once more? Had a tear slipped down her cheek? What had he asked? She had a vague memory...oh! Desire. “I got wet, didn’t I?”
More pain. More than she’d ever endured in her life. Her mind cracked, and so did another handful of bones. She might have bellowed. Or whimpered. She couldn’t be sure. Knew nothing but agony.
“It’s done,” her tormentor shouted. This wasn’t Roux, she decided. This couldn’t be Roux. This was a stranger. The one who’d hurt her. “She has proven victorious.”
Suddenly, the chains fell off and she fell forward. Powerful arms caught her before she hit the sand and cradled her against a firm body. Beneath her cheek, a strong heartbeat galloped.
“I’ve got you,” the stranger said, his tone broken.
Only a moment later, softness pressed against her back and the steadying arms vanished.
“Drink,” he commanded.
Blythe thrashed, shaking her head violently. Drink from the one who’d delivered such anguish? No. She needed Roux. The Astra. Her Astra. She wanted his stare and his intensity and his strength and his innocence and his ferocity and his rusty laugh and his unintentional jokes. Where was he?
“Drink.” A harsher command with frayed edges. “Feed.”
No!
Something warm and wet dripped upon her lips. The metallic scent drew out her tongue, and there was no stopping it. At the sweet taste of warm blood and crackling power, Blythe almost grabbed onto the source and bit down. But still she fought him. Need Roux!