Courting Darkness (Page 20)

My mind was strong, my will stronger. But torture had a way of driving the best person mad. And what Hyto was doing was torture. I slipped into the flimsy skirt and followed Hanna to the table, draping a blanket around my shoulder against the chill.

“I prepared food that might be easier on your stomach—soft bread and soup, and a baked apple.”

I ate, quickly, then used the restroom—as it was—and turned to her. “Each time, my chances of returning lessen. Please, if I don’t come back, hide my bones and give them to my loved ones. Because they will be here. They will rip that monster to shreds. And I want them to have what’s left of me.”

She pressed her lips together, but nodded, and mutely stood back, waiting for me to exit the chamber.

“I’m ready.” I sucked in a deep breath and we headed back to the chamber of horrors, where Hyto was waiting for me.

This time, Hyto met us at the entrance to the chamber. The moment Hanna handed me over and left, there was no standing on ceremony. He caught me around the neck, his hair through the loop on my collar, yanked, hard, and I went down on my hands and knees.

“Good little bitch. Let’s take a walk.” And forward he strode, his hair still through the loop on my collar. He moved faster than I could keep up so that I half-crawled, was half-dragged along the rough, rocky floor. Before we’d gone five yards the abrasions were burning on my hands and knees and shins. The skirt was already ripped. Would I be punished for that, too?

As we reached the throne, he sat down and yanked me to kneel at his feet. He turned his booted foot up so that I was facing the bottom of it. “Lick.”

“Yes, Master.” Shaking, I leaned forward and grimaced as I pressed my tongue to the bottom of his boots.

Hyto gave me a quick, sharp tap to the forehead with his foot and I fell backward. He laughed, roughly. “I’m bored. Amuse me.”

“What do you want me to do?” I couldn’t help it—I almost snarled, but I caught myself before the surliness came through.

He eyed me for a moment, and then, his gaze never leaving mine, he reached down and parted his robe. From between the folds of material, his pale, thick cock sprang up. “Blow me.”

I pressed my lips together, my stomach lurching. Of course he’d use sex against me—when throughout history hadn’t men used sex as a weapon against the women of their enemies? Abuse the wife, hurt the husband. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Reaching inside, deep into my core, I sought for strength from the Moon Mother.

He’ll never take my passion away from me. I’ll give him what he wants on the surface, but he’ll never have my heart. Never have my soul. Never have my joy or my desire. It’s all a sham. All a play. All a nightmare and I’ll wake up soon.

Close your eyes, my daughter. I am with you. The Moon Mother echoed deep in my heart, and a resigned sense of strength rose up within my soul.

“Yes, Master.” I crawled forward, dreading the scent of his musk, hating the sight of his body, but the minute I leaned forward and placed my lips over the tip of his cock, the world began to swirl around me.

The wild moon, rising high, ripped me out of my body. I was racing with the Moon Mother, free over the early morn, and we were on the hunt. It was just she and I, and I let my head fall back as I let out a violent scream, reverberating through the air, ripping through my pain and anger and fury.

We raced then, chasing after the hounds.

I want to rip, to hunt, to tear to shreds, to kill . . .

Soon enough, you will have your chance. You are a daughter of the Hunt; you are one of my chosen. I cannot always protect you, but I can cushion some of the pain.

We raced over hill and dale, into the sky, my Lady and I. We rooted out animals hiding in the forest, we ripped trees from their roots and sent them flying like a tornado. We crossed the heavens and I let out my anger and aggression on the clouds, sending them spinning as I whirled through the sky, feeling like a shooting star. Dizzy with the chaos and mayhem, I let out a wild shriek and dove through cloud bank and star stream.

And then, when I’d spent my anger, my Lady held me in her arms, rocking me, letting me cry . . . and then . . . I spiraled down, down, a helix, a vortex, a ribbon of color, and reentered my body.

“No wonder Iampaatar claimed you.” Hyto was staring down at me, his hands tangled in my hair as I opened my eyes and pulled away from him. A terrible taste filled my mouth, and I started to cough, swallowing quickly before I spit out his cum and got in trouble.

Breathing hard, he leaned forward. “I might keep you alive for a while, just for this. You know what you’re doing.”

“Yes, Master.” I kept my voice flat. The exhilaration of the hunt still raced in my blood. The thrill of being with my Lady out on the astral. I begrudged the fact that he enjoyed it, but at least I wasn’t left with the memory.

Hyto seemed to sense that he’d exposed too much emotion, because he pulled away and the intense aloofness returned. “Footstool. Now.”

“Yes, Master.” I frantically looked around for one, but there was none in sight.

“Don’t be an idiot.” He kicked me again, this time in the side, and I fell back, suddenly realizing what he’d meant.

Shuddering, I went down, on all fours, in front of him, and he propped his heavy boots across my back. “Now, don’t move. Not an inch. Let’s see how well you obey your father-in-law, girl.”

I couldn’t see him from the direction I was facing, could see nothing but stone and—out of the corner of my eye—the fire burning in the fire pit. How long would he keep me in this position? I knew he was punishing me for making him enjoy himself. He probably would have gone easier on me if I’d sucked at giving him a blow job.

After ten minutes, my back started to ache. I was a strong woman, but the combination of remaining on hands and knees while his feet—in those godawful boots—were digging into my back was starting to really hurt, especially against the abrasions he’d already put there. I winced but kept my mouth shut.

Fifteen minutes and I desperately wanted to shift, but I forced myself to remain in position. Twenty minutes, and he’d still made no move to let me up. By now, I had the backache from hell and wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand this. It wasn’t like playing horsey with Maggie while I was down on the floor, or even like sex play with my lovers. This was serious muscle-spasm time.

After a few more minutes, I decided to chance a glance up at him.

Hell. He was staring directly at me, lips curved in a half grin, half snarl, like a wolf waiting to attack. His eyes were glinting with a perverse joy and I realized he’d been waiting for me to break. I quickly looked away, but it was too late.

“So, you can’t take an order.” His feet hit the floor.

“I’m sorry, Master. I’m sorry.” I broke out in a cold sweat. This wasn’t going to be good, I knew it in my gut.

“You have a complaint? Maybe you don’t like being related to me?” He leaned forward. Despite every inclination I had, I forced myself to stay in position. Run, and he might kill me.

“No complaints, Master.”

His face inches from mine now, his eyes took on a cold, hard edge.

“The expression on your face tells me otherwise. So my hospitality is not to your liking, my daughter-in-law?” Suddenly he was standing, towering over me, all seven-plus feet of him. I instinctively scrambled away, but he caught me with that damned hair of his, holding me so tight I could barely breathe. After a moment, he used it to force me over a slab of rock, facedown, and brushed my hair from my back. Then, another long strand of his hair knotted into a harsh braided whip and, with a bone-jarring crack, he brought it sweeping across my lower back, right where the strain had been the worst.

My composure vanished. I screamed as the lashes fell, the bite of the braided hair stinging against my flesh. I could feel the welts rising.

“You are not my equal! Do you hear me? You are not my equal!” With each fall of the lash, Hyto grew more frenzied. After six strokes, he jerked away, panting, his hair coiling like snakes around his head.

I rolled over on my side, staring up at him, mute, unable to do more than stifle the sobs that lurched up in my throat. His eyes flashed and I knew we were at a pivotal point. I could so easily die if I made one wrong move.

“I would kill you now . . . I would kill you . . . but it would spoil my plans.” In a ragged voice, he railed against me. “How dare you lure my son away? How dare you set him up to take my place? To strike me down in his mother’s eyes? How dare you come into my family and ruin my life! You are a worthless lump of flesh. You are less than the worms of the fields. Slut—cow! Filthy mortal!”

I said nothing. Did nothing. My life was hanging by a thread.

Hyto caught me up, his hair so tight around my wrist that it felt like the bones were going to break. He pulled me close, eye level, and a sickly grin spread across his face. “Now, I think you shall learn what it feels like to ride a real dragon and not that weak son of mine.”

Gritting my teeth, I began to disassociate. I heard the swish of his robe as he pulled it back, and the next moment he was inside me, ramrod hard and fierce. With every grunt, he reverberated through my body like another fist in my stomach.

Menolly withstood this . . . she withstood worse . . . she was strong. She made it through hell and back. I can make it through this. I will survive this. I won’t ever let him win—he can violate my body but he cannot violate my soul.

“You like this? Answer me, slave!” He yanked on my hair, so hard I shrieked. “Remember who your master is, Camille.” The warning was so charged I had to respond.

“Yes . . . yes, Master . . .” The words echoed out of my mouth, but they were hollow husks floating on the wind with no power put into them. They meant nothing to me.

“I will kill you slowly, in front of him. My son will watch you die in agony, and he will know he could do nothing to stop me.”

After a few moments he tore away, grabbing me by the wrist and tossing me across the room, like a rag doll. I landed on the floor with a bone-numbing thud. Sucking in a deep breath, I glared at him through the tears and snot running down from my nose, no longer caring about his anger.

“Smoky loves me. He’s my husband. I will always know he loves me. Do you understand that? You can beat me, you can kill me a thousand times over and I’ll take that knowledge to my grave.”

He stood there panting, staring at me, and then with a terrible cry he was at my side, kicking me square in the hip. I screamed as he yelled for Hanna.

She scurried in.

“Get her out of my sight. Now! Before I kill her.”

Hanna hurriedly yanked me along, dragging me through the door and down the hall.

“Hurry, hurry! If we stay in his presence, we die.” She bustled me back into the safety of the cave with the tub, pulling the curtain shut. Only then did she let me rest, pushing me onto the pallet as she huddled with me. After a while, she let out her breath.

“He is in a murderous rage. If we are lucky, he’ll go out, to work off his anger. I know not what you did to him, girl, but I fear for you. I truly do.”

I caught her gaze as she began to move around, looking for the ointments and salves to treat the welts and bruising. I knew what I’d done. He wanted me. And he did not want to desire me. I’d inadvertently challenged him by not kowtowing to him. I refused to beg him, to make him feel superior. But most of all, I simply existed. Smoky loved me and had taken my side over his father’s. And there, right there, was the answer.

“All I have to do in order to anger him is exist. His son has turned on him. Hyto blames me.” I shook my head. “That’s the only thing.”

Hanna nodded. “That would do the trick, all right. He’s an arrogant beast—white dragons are the worst when it comes to their grasping ways. They crave power and they feed off fear. Any defiance is seen as an insult.” She gently swept my hair to the side. “Let me attend to your wounds, girl. Then, sleep. Right now, it’s the best you can do for your body.”

As I leaned forward for her to examine my back, I realized that I’d hit on the core of Hyto’s anger. My very existence had become an insult to him. He blamed me for his disgrace, for his fall from the Dragon Reaches. I had become his scapegoat, and he wouldn’t rest until I—and Smoky—were punished for his madness. And somehow, I had a feeling no punishment was enough to make Hyto feel strong in himself again. He would never be able to terrorize us enough to mend his ego.

I was in the hands of a psycho. A psychotic dragon. Somehow, fighting Shadow Wing didn’t seem quite so terrifying a prospect compared to this.

Chapter 13

“Camille, Camille, wake up!”

I struggled out of slumber, still exhausted and hurting badly. My back burned, and I was sleeping on my stomach on the pallet, covered by extra blankets. I’d taken a fever by the time Hanna got me away from him.

She’d done all she could—used her strongest medicines and salves—but I’d been so strained by Hyto’s abuse that I could barely move without crying out. Every place on my body hurt. And the fever, I suspected, came from my injuries.

When she brought me back to the cave, I told Hanna about my queasiness, and she helped me as I vomited as much as I could, then pressed a cup of tea into my hands. A few sips helped calm the knots in my stomach, and the fever began to subside.

“You’re a skilled herbal woman.”

She nodded, looking pale. Something had happened—I could sense it, but I couldn’t pinpoint what. “I grew herbs and helped out my village as a midwife when . . . when I had a home.” Then, she put me to bed and stroked my hair until I fell into an uneasy slumber.