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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ROOK

When I wake, I’m down on the ground. They unlocked the shackles from my wrists and ankles, but my horns have been chained to iron bars embedded in the floor beneath me.

I stay down, my cheek flat against the stone, and watch a spider spin a web in one corner of the room. It weaves silk between the cluster of mushrooms that still endures in this dungeon.

Slowly, I brace myself on my elbows and crawl onto my hands and knees. I can’t straighten any taller. I’m forced down on all fours like an animal.

This was done to humiliate me.

Soon I’m thirsty, my mouth parched. I haven’t had anything to drink but potions since being imprisoned. When a guard brings me a bucket of water, some of it sloshes over the edges and seeps between cracks in the stone floor. What a fucking waste. A growl of frustration tears from my throat.

The guard backs out of the room and locks the door behind him. Kneeling, I drink from my cupped hands. Stale, brackish water has never tasted sweeter.

But all the water in this world can’t quench my demonic thirst.

I can’t survive without consuming lust.

Time melts together without a clock or a calendar to give it meaning. Sunrises chase sunsets, one after another, while my hunger sharpens to the edge of a knife.

It has been days since I last fed. Ever since I lost my childhood innocence, I have not been able to escape this hunger. It gnaws inside me like a living thing, burning through my blood, crawling through the muscles around my bones.

My own body betrays me. Whenever I wake, my cock is hard. I refuse to touch myself in the squalor of this dungeon, since the guards or the queen might enjoy my depravity. I clutch my arms with my claws, forcing myself to focus on the bright sparks of pain instead of the intense need inside me.

Without Pyrah, I am lost. We agreed to be mates. It would be a betrayal if I devoured the lust of a stranger.

Promise me you will come back. If you don’t, I will hunt you down and murder you myself.

Why hasn’t she hunted me down already? Has she been hiding alone in her cave, still unable to shift into a dragon?

I refuse to believe she might also be a prisoner—or worse, dead.

Every day, I carve the stone wall with my claws, the deep grooves a tally of each time I have survived. I’m careful to sharpen my claws rather than dull them, since I have no weapons beyond my body.

Every night, Zin brings me the same sleeping potion.

Tonight, I refuse to drink. “I want to dream.” The rust of disuse roughens my voice.

The sorceress stares at me with her dark eyes. “No.”

I can’t even straighten to my full height. I have lost the ability to loom over the sorceress and intimidate her. “Seven days. That’s how long it’s been since you captured me.”

“Are you starving yet?” Her voice lacks any trace of emotion.

“Would it please you if I answered yes?”

“Others might find your bravado amusing, but I merely find it annoying.” She tilts her head, her stare merciless.

"Just give me the fucking potion and let me sleep.”

She shakes her head as if I have somehow disappointed her already low expectations. Without comment, she sets down the potion on the floor and watches me drink it. I swig down every last drop and wait for the darkness to take me.

In this dungeon, it’s my easiest escape.

Delirium infests my mind. Words start slipping away from me.

I’m left with the strongest few: need. Want. Hunger.

It’s too cold in here, and I can’t stop shivering. When Zin returns, she stares at me for a long moment. What does she want from me? I’m down on my knees, my muscles tensed and ready to lunge.

Feral instinct whispers to me, easy prey.

Without my consent, she casts a spell upon me. Paralysis locks every bone in my body. I can’t even bare my teeth at her.

She touches her hand to my forehead, a gesture that feels grotesquely caring. “You feel feverish.”

She grabs the shackles around my horns. Beneath her hands, the iron freezes and shatters into fragments.

Freeing me.

Why?

What’s next? Torture? Death?

But Zin’s behavior becomes increasingly more bizarre.

She slices her hand through the air and opens a portal. On the other side, the silver glow of the moon washes a forest.

Is this a fever dream?

The spell around me breaks. I fall onto my hands and knees.

Her heartbeat hammers even faster. I can hear it thumping inside her ribs. I inhale through my teeth in a hiss of breath, and she backs away from me.

If she runs, I won’t be able to resist.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I don’t want Zin. She isn’t my prey. No matter how much my hunger screams at me to consume her.

The ragged edges of the portal shimmer. Sparks of magic fly into the darkness before disappearing. I let them capture my attention long enough that I can focus. The portal must be a trap, but I can’t tell how, and the urge to escape builds inside me until it’s impossible to resist.

“Go,” Zin says, but I’m already fleeing.

I hit the portal at a run and tumble into the moonlit forest. I hunch on the ground, my stomach clenching and my mouth watering. There’s nothing left in me to vomit, not even human food.

I’m beyond hungry.

Ravenous.

The portal crackles shut behind me. Where the fuck am I?

I pace in a circle, as if I’m still a caged beast, before recognizing the edge of the forest and the lights of a distant town: Havenwold.

The nearest town to Pyrah’s territory, where Zin attacked us for the first time.

Why would she release me here, so close to safety?

It’s hard to focus, my thoughts flying through my mind like dark birds in the night, too quick to grasp.

I linger on the brink between civilization and wilderness. The monster in me knows that my prey lives in town, slumbering in their beds or wandering out of taverns after a long night of drinking. Sleeping or drunk humans make easy prey.

No.

I won’t surrender. I’m not a predator, and I refuse to betray Pyrah.

I turn my back on the city and flee deeper into the woods. I stumble through the underbrush and break branches that claw against my skin. Am I being hunted by the queen? I’m being too loud, too obvious. I’m naked, barefoot, unarmed.

My breathing sounds ragged. I force myself to stop, bracing myself against a tree. My claws sink deep into the bark.

Pyrah.

I’m possessed by a fierce longing to find her and drink her down. It’s been far too long since I tasted her sweet desire. She’s mine and I need her now more than ever.

But I can’t.

Not like this. Not while I can’t control myself.

I shake my head hard, trying to clear my mind, and my horns gouge the tree by accident. I’m little better than a stag in rut. An animal driven by instinct.

It’s not safe to stay here.

And so I run.

The first time I fled from the queen, I hid in Hexfall. I know the way to the castle ruins by heart.

The night melts into an endless memory of black shadows and silver moonlight. The Thornwood welcomes me back with open arms, the cursed brambles tasting blood from my skin. I’m a monster among monsters. This is where I belong.

I’ve been running for so long that my lungs burn and my legs ache. I’m nearing the end of my stamina.

The ruins of Hexfall gleam under the moonlight.

I stumble over a broken stone before dropping onto the ground. I roll onto my back and stare at the moon above me. I’m gasping for breath. My heartbeat hammers against my ribs.

Even exhausting myself could not purge my hunger. Pyrah dominates my memories of Hexfall. I can’t stop thinking about gripping her hips and guiding her onto my cock for the first time. Or kneeling before the throne, where she sat like a queen, and licking the nectar of her arousal.

A deep groan escapes my throat.

My cock throbs, already so hard it hurts. I grip it in my fist, trying to calm myself, but that makes matters worse.

“Fuck.” The word escapes through my clenched teeth.

My fist moves over my cock in sharp, savage jerks. I’m frantic, desperate for release. The muscles in my thighs tremble as my heels brace against the dirt.

I close my eyes and picture Pyrah in the bath, her cheeks flushed, her red hair wet and dark. My mate. All mine.

Shaking, grunting, I fuck my fist until my climax erupts. Blinding pleasure destroys all thought. My cock jerks in my hand and shoots hot jets of seed across my body.

Boneless, I sprawl in the dirt. The fog lifts from my mind, just a little, and I glance down at myself. Fuck, I’m filthy. I need a bath more than I have ever needed one in my life.

On unsteady legs, I drag myself to my feet and wander over to the abandoned royal baths. The moon peeks through the eye of the dome above. Overgrown moss and ferns do not entirely obscure the white marble of the room. In the center of the room, a pool glimmers darkly.

I wade into the cold water before swimming deeper. I scour all the filth and grime from my skin. I claw at myself until it starts to hurt.

It’s a pity I can’t scour my memories.

Clean at last, I stride out of the bath. Exhaustion turns my bones to lead. The soft moss underfoot invites me.

I have no clothes, no blanket, and I’m still dripping wet. It matters little to me. I curl upon the moss like a beast in its den. It begins to rain, and the plinking of water in the pool lulls me to sleep.

It has been an eternity since I last dreamed.

I’m back in the prison, locked in shackles. Even my own mind believes I’m still not free. Disgusted, I take control of the dream and turn the chains binding me to ashes. They scatter into nothingness.

I stare at the iron door, wondering where it might lead, knowing that the journey would be nothing but a fantasy. I do not know what lies beyond the door in reality. When I open the door, I see nothing but darkness.

But I am an incubus, and the realm of dreams is my domain. They are mine to manipulate and control.