Page 16

Fourteen

HARLOW

It’s dark.

It’s small.

It’s dark.

It’s small.

It’s endless.

It’s…

It’s…

“It’s too dark! Help me, I’m scared!”

Words that feel all too familiar echo in my head.

A feeling of emptiness that’s all too familiar.

Emptiness coupled with a heaviness, in part from the shadows that are making this tiny cell even smaller, heavier, like there will never be light again.

Time slips away over the remainder of the night and into the daytime. I’ve tried to count the seconds to keep track, but the mounting weight pressing into my shoulders and pinning me into the dirt has long won out.

This cell is smaller than the other one. The walls are closer, the roof shorter. Like he knew about my claustrophobia and wanted to torture me. Him. My captor. The vampire asshole named Alec Dormer.

I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

For the unknown.

For him to kill me.

Drain me.

Torture me.

Hecate, please give me my powers back. Please, please, please, I’ll do anything. Let me get out of this space. This tiny, cramped space…

Maybe this is more punishment since I’m behind the blaze that took out two wonderful witches. She’s not interfering because She’s forsaken me. Maybe that’s also why the cure isn’t working right. The one feature of myself I’ve longed to be rid of, I now miss because it could have saved my life.

Maybe Alec will kill me and end my suffering.

Hecate, please. Please. Please.

At this point, I’m no longer sure what I’m even begging Her for. She won’t help, because She hasn’t so far. Maybe it’s time to stop asking. Perhaps it’s time to let Her go and beg the devil. At the very least, the one I know.

“Alec.” His name slips out between cracked lips, muffled with a sob. It’s low, and even with his enhanced hearing, who knows if it carries to him.

“Alec, please, get me out of here.”

“Alec, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Alec!”

Each plea, I raise my voice just a bit higher, hoping it makes it to him, even when he’d probably ignore me. Laugh at my pain.

Harlow.

The voice that once had me thinking I was insane is a reprieve. I manage to lift my head, seeking him even if I know he’s not here. I cling to how my name sounded on his lips—inside my head, anyway. The harshness of the H, the purr trailing from the W. Cling to it, begging for a repeat.

“Alec, Alec, Alec… please. ”

Instead of my name, a sound from far away pushes through the deafening silence, the weight of the room crashing onto me, the feeling of not having enough space, and the endless shadows that taunt me with hisses. It’s the sound of metal, I think. Hard to tell, because everything is so muted with my head resting on the ground.

Then there’s a new sensation. Something cool but warm at the same time. Something that forces my head up, the touch expanding to my cheek bones and stroking beneath my eyes. I sigh, the weight of them too much to open and allow myself to check who’s finally come: my devil or the Goddess. My gaze, blurred from my lack of focus and exhaustion, tries to track the long fingers reaching for my face. It becomes too much effort, and my eyes slide shut once more.

“Sinclair, open your eyes. What’s wrong with you?”

Look at him? I can’t. Everything is too heavy.

“Hellion, look at me.”

Looking at him only gives him more reason to torment me. Haven’t I played enough of his games? I wore the pretty dress, attended the master’s party on his arm, paraded myself in front of his guests, and gave a piece of myself over to the top buyer. He sold me off, so now he can deal with my suffocating silence. It’s no different than the suffocation of this cell.

The cell…how did I forget how small the cell is? Right, it’s all in his voice. He’s a distraction, as much as he was a distraction in the past, when his existence was a mere voice in my mind.

I should ask him about that.

“Come on, Harlow. I’m demanding you open your eyes.”

With the next stroke of his fingers, the slithering falls away, disappearing inside my chest until the next time they want to bother me. With the weight gone, my lids manage to peel open. Eyes as black as the dungeon stare back, his brows furrowing like my panic is a shock to him.

“You came,” I breathe.

“You called.”

My eyes flutter shut again as his hands come around my body, and for better or worse, he’s the safest thing right now, so I let myself fall. He reaches one hand beneath my knees, the other around my back, before pulling me into his chest and standing, keeping me close.

His low murmur breaks through my mental barriers right as he carries me from the cell. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Even though he grips me tight, he doesn’t feel as suffocating as the cell. In fact, it’s kind of pleasant to be held by him. His arms feel strong, his body unyielding against mine. And he smells good. Not like death, blood, and destruction, but like a fresh flame once ignited. A campfire after it’s been extinguished and the smoke fills the area. Like summertime warmth, which is ironic.

“You smell nice.”

His chest rumbles with his laughter, vibrating against my side. “Oh, Hellion, if only you were lucid. You’d hate yourself for admitting that.”

“I am lucid,” I argue, despite the fuzz covering my mind suggesting otherwise.

“Sure, sure.” He sounds amused, but that’s also wrong, because asshole bloodsuckers shouldn’t be amused by their captives. Defeats the purpose, right?

A moment later, the dungeon door is open and even fresher air circulates through my lungs. While the stairway is dark, it’s not as black as the dungeons, and my vision begins to shift.

“Shut your eyes.” His gentle command weaves between the strands of my hair, his breath strangely warm against my ear.

I do, obeying him so effortlessly once again. Blame it on my fucked-up senses.

The air rushes around us, and I think he’s using his immortal speed to get us through his castle. The angle changes; we’re heading upstairs. Then there’s another door opening and shutting, more warmth, and then softness beneath me as his arms disappear.

I open my eyes, breathing in air that doesn’t smell dank and rancid, in the bedroom I visited earlier—last night?—to get ready in.

Alec’s there, pushing me back into the pillows, his body taking up so much space. I wait for that familiar and uncomfortable feeling of claustrophobia to return with his nearness, but it doesn’t. Quite the opposite actually.

His gaze is depthless, matched by his equally dark hair, strands falling into his face. He’s dressed more casual than I’ve seen him yet, his plain black tee showing off muscles defined by endless years.

Did I just check out my captor?

“Thank you,” I whisper, relaxing into the soft pillows. The bed isn’t the best part, even if he probably assumes it’s what I’m grateful for. It’s the wide-open space. The walls that are easily twelve feet from me, allowing me to breathe properly.

“Harlow—”

It’s only my name—one of the few instances he’s spoken it—lined with frustration and annoyance, so similar to how he’d say it in my head.

“Why have I been hearing you for months?”

“What?” His hand sweeps strands off my forehead, but they cling to my skin from the sweat. His touch is a balm to the heat. A comfort that soothes. If only I could ask him to continue touching me, healing me. He gets rid of the shadows, and now he’s making everything else better too. “Hellion, you’re not well. You’re not making sense. Stop talking.”

My mouth clamps shut, obeying him for some reason. If only so he can continue petting me.

Annoyingly, he pulls back after another few seconds, settling beside my legs and crossing his arms. His jaw is tense when he asks, “What was all that about?”

“Nothing.” I glance towards the window, wishing he’d open the curtain and allow the sky inside. Any sign of the outdoors, I’ll take at this point. Keeping a witch away from nature is torture in itself.

“Do not lie to me,” he snaps, his hand forcing my face towards him again. “Was it a ploy to get out of the cell?”

“Damn good acting on my part if it was.”

His mouth tugs up on one side. “There she is. Guess you’re fine now if that snark that’s making my life hell has returned.”

“Guess so.” I lean back against the pillows, wanting to soak up every minute of comfort before he sends me back to hell. For now, whatever the reason behind this peaceful truce, I’ll take the cushion beneath my ass. A mattress versus stone, a blanket versus the hollow chill of what could eventually lead to my death.

“You called for me,” he murmurs after a long moment, his tone filled with a sense of wonder and a question I’m compelled to answer.

“Hecate is ignoring me. You’re all I have left.” Which is sad to consider.

He makes a grunting noise before heading for the door. “We need to talk, so stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes. If you attempt to leave this room, I’ll track you before you make it down the hallway.” His dark eyes sweep my frame stretched on the bed. “Given your current situation, I doubt you have much fight in you anyway.”

In truth, I have little plans to leave this bed. I do go to the bathroom, finding my pyjamas still on the floor where I left them from when switching into the dress. I change back, preferring my own clothes over whomever’s dress this is. They’re dirty, but no worse off than the dress and much warmer.

By the time I’m climbing back into bed, the door opens again, and Alec returns. “Good to know you’re capable of listening once in a while.”

“Only when it suits me.”

He crosses the room and picks up one of the large wingback chairs beside the fireplace. With one hand, he carries it to the bedside before sitting. On the nightstand, he lays out a water bottle and handful of granola bars that will by no means be enough to sustain me, but they’re a start. My stomach growls so loud even I hear it, which means he certainly does.

With a knowing huff, he twists open the water bottle and hands it over. “Small sips, don’t fill up. Your body needs a lot more nutrition.”

I ignore him and take a long swig before lowering the bottle, not finished drinking, but he’s quick to snatch it again, capping it, and rests it beside me on the nightstand out of reach. Got it.

“You know a lot about mortal bodies.”

“You forget I was once a human.” He leans back, spreading his legs slightly and his arms landing on the armrests, like he’s settling in for a while. “It was a long time ago, and last night you reminded me of your pesky requirements, so before you die on me, figured I should get you some food.”

“And you couldn’t have delivered all this”—I gesture toward the food—“last night?”

“Leverage, Hellion. It’s all about leverage. Speaking of…” He reaches for a granola bar and rips open the package, shaking it tauntingly. “I have questions you’ll answer. For every one you do, you’ll receive food.”

My stomach growls again, and we both know at this point, he could probably ask me to crawl around on the floor or anything else equally as demeaning, and I would. Food, water, and a bed. The vampire’s lining himself up for a world of knowledge.

“I also have things I want to know.”

He throws me a look so dirty, it’s worse than the dungeon’s floor. “Food or an answer, those are your options. You get one, and choose wisely. I should note, my questions are limited, so before you think to save one or the other until the end, my end may come sooner than you anticipate.”

I nod. “Deal.”

“What was that down below?”

“Starvation and exhaustion mixed with claustrophobia, which led to a panic attack.”

“Claustrophobia?”

“That’s a question. You owe me two pieces. It means a fear of small spaces.”

Alec rolls his eyes but regardless rips off two bite-sized pieces that I devour entirely too quickly. They wake my stomach up to a painful twist. “I know the definition of the phobia. I was questioning you having it.”

“I’ve had it since I was a kid. Don’t recall how it came to be.”

He hands over another piece. “Scared of the dark too?”

I shake my head, gaining another bite. There’s only one left of the bar.

“Good. Means you and I will get along great.” He grins, his tongue flicking against a fang, seemingly mindlessly.

“Because we’ve done so swimmingly so far.”

Ignoring me, he muses, “That didn’t happen in the other cell.”

“That’s a statement, not a question.”

“Answer me,” he demands.

“The other was larger. I did feel it at first, but was able to pull myself out. Keep myself distracted. That was actually what the runes were for; I suspected they wouldn’t work as they are supposed to. The smaller cell, not so much. Water this time.”

He hands over the bottle and I down another sip, deciding my next reward will be to ask something in return.

“What happened to your parents? I know they died in a fire. Tell me the details.”

The question stuns me into silence, the bottle numb between my grip while visions of flames flit through my mind—and the burning pain associated with each one. “I, I don’t want to recount that.”

“Captives don’t get choices. Answer me.” Gone is the teasing from moments ago, the villain back from downstairs instead.

“Alec…” I plead, searching him for some sense of humanity beneath his black soul. Something that’ll get him to move on and ask me literally anything else.

“Answer the question, Sinclair, or I’ll kill anyone else alive you still care about.”

In this, I’ll win. Asshole’s so sure of himself and his threats. “Go ahead, there’s no one left. Your threats mean little, Alec. Threaten to kill me next? I’ll welcome the escape.”

The vampire leans back, his tongue flicking against a fang again. Only this time, his eyes flash red too, menacingly. “Then I’ll transform you into a vampire and force you to live as an immortal for the next few centuries. I’ll be right there every step of the way, keeping you alive. So unless that’s the future you secretly desire, tell me what happened to your parents.”