Page 40 of Her Tortured Beasts (Her Vicious Beasts #4)

Chapter 39

Aurelia

T he pretending that didn’t happen game is probably the best one ever invented. And everyone plays it with me. It serves us well this morning as, just as I tuck myself under the blankets next to Eugene, Heather opens my blackout curtain with a cute flick and I pretend to look out blearily at them as if I’ve just woken up.

I have just woken up, but it was rudely…after it had been somewhat cosy and soft. Xander has that sort of dangerous masculine scent that drives me to do wild things—letting him think I was Francesca notwithstanding.

Heather lets me out and I hurl myself into the bathroom, jumping in the shower and rubbing myself with the soap she silently hands me. It’s halfway through my aggressive scrubbing that I realise its scent-neutralising soap.

I can’t imagine the disaster that would result if I walked around the castle with the scent of Xander’s cum all over me. His father might get a kick out of it, but Francesca?

She’d likely roast me alive.

Once I’m out and Xander has had his turn, I self-consciously tug the sleeves of my dress in place and turn around to accept the leash.

But he’s not standing anywhere near me.

“Not today,” Xander says, sneering not at me but at the door. “Today it stays in its cage.”

I bet he can’t look at me because he’ll be turned on again…but I can’t go back to that cage. I just…can’t.

“Please,” I grit out, hating myself for the tremble in my voice. “Don’t put me back in there.”

“Get inside your cage, Spawn.” His voice is pure cold, hard malice. The complete opposite to the gentle moans that had filled my ears like a lullaby last night.

Heather tries to usher me into the cage, but I stand my ground as heat and anger rise within me. Eugene presses his invisible self against my leg.

“You know, I didn’t see it before,” I say with disgust. “But until I saw you sit by and do absolutely nothing while your sister was hurt by that monster you call your father—” Xander’s massive shoulders stiffen. “You’re not a monster at all, Xander Drakos. You’re worse. You’re a fucking coward.”

His telekinesis shoves me backwards and I hit the bars at the top of the cage door. Pain explodes across my back and I fold forward, allowing myself to be stuffed inside the cage like a roast turkey.

The cage door slams shut and locks itself before Xander and the human servants leave. I cover my mouth to hold back the sobs, screwing my eyes shut to try to control myself. That bastard would be able to hear me all the way down the corridor and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, I hold it together all of thirty seconds before that cry of frustration that had been building up in me since yesterday morning finally lets itself out. I scream at the bars, shaking them until I think my arms are going to come out of their sockets.

Eugene flaps his wings in protest, brushing cold air over my face and squawking his alarm.

“I can’t fucking do this, Eugene,” I sob, covering my face as he climbs into my lap and I thud down onto my ass, holding him close. “The humiliation of it. The rest of it I was ready for, but toting me out in front of those awful creatures…” I shake my head. Back and forth. Back and forth. “He’s truly a different person now. So, so much worse than before. He didn’t even feel sorry about trapping Raquel.” Leaning back into bars behind me, I let the tears flow.

Worse still, I’m confused about last night. When I’d woken to a movement next to me, it had hardly felt real. I was tired, in pain and miserable, just woken from one of his memories as a teenager. And then he’d reached for me with soft hands and I’d crumbled.

Crumbled like an old, weatherbeaten statue, too fragile to hold itself together any more. I missed my mates and that heinous soul-wound had ached a little less by the masculine touch. Shame fills me now, the memory of how it felt on my skin, my mouth, my pussy.

I whimper and immediately get angry at myself.

“Fuck this,” I say. “What if we just went home?”

Eugene lets out a sad cluck as if he wholeheartedly agrees.

“But we can’t,” I explain. “We’re here to protect our friends. To keep my father’s fangs away from those I love. And Damien will probably kill Henry and the nimpins in retaliation. Flores will kill Raquel. We’ll have to figure out a way to rescue them.”

Eugene lets out an angry sound at that.

I mumble to Eugene for a few minutes before I see a shadow flicker under the door. My immediate thought is of Ghoul, but I scratch that as the larger shadow is accompanied by a smaller one, then another.

There’s a giggle at the door as the whoosh of the dragon-lock deactivates. It slams open and the two hatchlings charge through the door.

“We’re on a mission, Lia!” Emmerson skids to a stop in front of my cage just as his sister and Selena quickly enter. The dragoness shuts the door behind them and I sit up, suddenly on alert.

Selena is pale this morning, no doubt from an awful night in the tower she was locked in. She’s freshly showered and scrubbed clean, and nothing would look out of place except for the faint red mark around her neck that only my eagle eyes can see. There is also a dark gleam in her eye as she sets sights upon my cage.

“Lia is in a cage!” Emmerson chuckles. “Why are you in a cage, Lia?”

“Yeah, why are you in a cage?” Delilah parrots. Then she wrinkles her nose. “It’s way too small for you.”

“People don’t belong in cages,” Selena says quietly.

I regard her carefully. “Or towers.”

Her eyes sparkle.

“But it looks kinda fun,” Emmerson says, getting on his hands and knees to peer inside. “Maybe we can do a sleepover?”

“No,” I say quickly. “This is not for kids.”

“Then who’s it for?”

I glance at Selena. “How did you guys get in here?”

A rare smile twitches at her lips. “A little loophole in Xander’s magic. He never wants harm to come to the kids, so his magic will let them in anywhere he’s locked.”

“Uncle Xander loves us,” Delilah nods.

“Heaps,” Emmerson says, raising a finger and touching the lock of the cage. Silently, and without protest, the door opens on its hinge. He reaches in and strokes Eugene, clucking softly under his breath.

“Let’s find some clothes, shall we?” Selena says.

I stare at the open door, at the children, at Selena. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Xander and Father will be at a long meeting this morning,” Selena says, and her voice is curiously sad. “We have at least three hours’ free time.”

“Free time!” The hatchlings cheer, fists in the air.

Eugene squawks with excitement, wiggling free of my vise-like hold and running out of the cage.

Selena, seemingly able to see the hidden doors in the room, finds the tiny cupboard that houses my two dresses and hands one to me. Delilah insists on helping me get dressed, tugging the hem of my dress in place and pulling my sleeves down for me. Emerson insists on brushing my hair and I sit through the ordeal, hiding my grimaces.

When Delilah starts looking for my leash, Selena gently explains that people don’t wear leashes.

“Then why does Uncle Xander lead her on a leash every day?” Delilah puts her hands on her hips.

“Uncle Xander is wrong to do that,” Selena says calmly, “But we’ll talk about it later. Let’s go see Grandmother. No doubt she’s waiting for us.”

Eugene and I are ushered out the door, fully ashamed to admit that it feels very much abnormal without my leash.

Have I gotten used to it so quickly?

Rubbing at my neck, I follow the scampering hatchlings down to the main hall and through to a part of the castle I’ve never been in before. The sounds of clanking, water running, and porcelain scraping on wood tell me what it is before we round the corner.

Lady Drakos sits on a stool at the long wooden kitchen bench, cutting up walnuts on a chopping board with a small paring knife.

When she sees us, she beams—as best as she can—and holds her arms out. The hatchlings run towards her for hugs before she casts her eye at us adults. “It’ll be a fig and walnut cake this morning,” she says in that hushed, weak voice. “And a cheese and bacon loaf.”

My mouth immediately starts watering. They’ve not been starving me, exactly, but the food has been simple and unseasoned. Prison-fare.

“That sounds lovely, Mother,” Selena says, immediately heading to the ingredients piled onto the table.

I step forwards tentatively. “Are the chefs not in today?”

“We like to cook once a month,” Lady Drakos says. “It’s more satisfying to eat something you’ve prepared together.”

The backs of my eyes burn.

“Come,” Selena says, beckoning to the children. “Wash your hands and let’s measure out this flour.”

It takes a moment to realise that she’s also beckoning to me. As Lady Drakos continues to chop the walnuts, I head over to the other side of the kitchen and wash my hands too. The kids put on frilled tartan aprons with little dragons embroidered on them. They look hand sewn with love and well-worn, and I wonder how long it took Lady Drakos to make them.

Emmerson reaches into a drawer and whips out a neatly folded stack of white clothes. He unfolds one and plonks the material on his head, grinning at me.

“Chef’s hats!” he says with excitement. “Everyone gets one!”

He then proceeds to hand one out to his grandmother, then his mother and Delilah. Xander’s niece looks from her hat to me. “We only have four,” she says quietly. “For today, you can have mine.” Shyly, she hands it to me.

The backs of my eyes prickle again and I have to swallow before I say, “I can’t take yours, Delilah.”

She pouts a little before unfolding it and gently putting it on my head. I have to bend down to oblige her, but she gets it on and tugs it into place. “Uncle Xander says sharing is an important thing for a little dragon to learn. Otherwise, when we get older, we might become too possessive.”

I feel Selena observing me. Her eyes flick down to the band of etched gold on my throat, but I pretend not to notice.

“Well, that’s kind of you,” I say, trying not to sound bitter about her uncle not following his own advice. “Thank you.”

Selena and Lady Drakos take great care to include me in their family baking. Emmerson ends up with self-raising flour all over his face, after which time we have to refer to him as ‘the ghost dragon’ or he won’t listen to instructions.

“Will the ghost dragon now roll the dough?” Selena asks formally. “Delilah, you can only eat one raw. No more or you’ll get a tummy ache.”

“Grandma said sally-mona is only for humans,” Delilah says, popping an entire raw dough ball into her mouth. “I’m not human.”

Eugene lets out an indignant squawk. “Eugene is correct,” I say. “There was no salmonella in those eggs anyway.”

Emmerson stops licking the wooden spoon. “You can tell?”

“Avians can tell bad eggs from good ones.”

“So handy,” Selena murmurs, peering into the oven.

Before long, the air smells like fresh baked bread, melted cheese, and crispy bacon. Combined with the joyous laughter of the children and the fact that every time Delilah is embarrassed by something, she hides her face in my side, I am, objectively, in heaven.

For the first time since I arrived here, I manage to forget the pain of the skin melded to the metal around my neck. I forget I’m a captive animal.

“Your hatchlings are a delight,” I murmur to Selena as I dry the wet dish Emmerson carefully hands to me.

“They are a blessing.” She smiles wistfully before she turns serious. “They came into the world under the worst circumstances.” She swallows. “But we prevailed.”

I blink at this unexpected revelation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’m glad everything is better now.” A small frown appears between her fine brows. She opens her mouth to say something but clearly decides against it.

“It’s close to twelve,” Lady Drakos says, running a knife around the edge of the pan with the cheese and bacon loaf. “We’d better start plating up for lunch. Aurelia, darling, will you pass me my health potion from the cupboard there?”

My heart squeezes at her term of endearment. “Of course.”

“And would you be so kind as to pour a glass of orange juice for me?”

“It would be my pleasure, Lady Drakos.”

She beams at me and I feel as if the sun has come out from between the clouds.

I turn around, head to the small cupboard, and open it to find it stocked with rows of familiar emerald glass bottles, long-necked with a round body. They all bear a black label with Lady Drakos and nothing else. Taking one out, I carefully place it on the bench and allow my power to investigate it. Giving myself more time, I move slowly, heading next to the drawer with glassware, then the large, industrial steel fridge further away.

Avian healers typically don’t prepare potions. Our domain is healing the body directly, and that was the way I was taught when I trained after high school.

Potions and tonics are the domain of hyena witches.

The mixture is a cloudy one, and I can tell it’s been lightly strained for final preparation. Tiny herbs float around the brown liquid, forming a slight sediment. But there are more than mere herbs in there. It has the suppressing feel of a sedative, but not of the sleeping variety. Frowning, I take my time as I unstopper the cork and pour some into the glass of orange juice.

Turning around, I present it to Lady Drakos, who smiles as she accepts the glass. There is a look in her eye. Some glint that I barely understand. I take the potion bottle back to the cupboard and place it back inside. Staring at the entire stock.

I know I’ve taken too long when Selena coughs politely and I close the cupboard, guilt twisting my stomach.

Emmerson pushes a plate of the fresh, gooey bread in front of me, eating his own warm piece with a happy, sloppy grin.

“Take as much as you want,” Selena says, glancing at her watch. “Then we’d better get you back to your room.”

“Right,” I say, taking a piece of the bacon and cheese loaf, the mozzarella stretching between the pieces in the most delicious way. “Lucky that meeting they had lasted so long.”

I can feel it when the energy of the room changes. Lady Drakos goes rigid, and she sets her glass down on the table. The hand she rests on her lap trembles as she turns to look at me and there is something in her expression I cannot, dare not, read. “I’m so very sorry, Aurelia.”