Page 80 of Inked & Bloodbound
She pouts, and with her bottom lip jutted out like that, she looks like a kid. So young. Too young for a place like this. “I’m sorry, Nurse Lily. I can’t stay. They’re going to be so mad at me if I don’t do what I’m told.”
“Who’s going to be mad, sweetheart?”
“The twins!” she exclaims, then her eyes widen, and a grin spreads across her face. She releases her grip on my hair and clasps her hands together like she’s having a life-changing revelation. “I want you to meet them, and they definitely want to meet you. I’m gonna call them over!”
Before I have a chance to protest, she’s already beckoning to two men sitting across the room. Two men who’ve been watching us the entire time. Four pinpricks of golden light fixed on our every move.
They rise in their matching white suits—no shirts underneath, low jacket buttons revealing sculpted, hairless chests. They stride toward us in perfect unison, and with each synchronized step, the dread in my stomach grows heavier.
They reach us in seconds, and when I look to Cassini for reassurance, his expression is a terrifying storm of fury and dread.
“Cassini, you finally decided to join us,” one says, a smirk playing across his lips. The red light cuts just under his sharp cheekbones, casting terrifying hollows.
Despite the terrifying emptiness in his eyes, he’s beautiful—they both are. Beautiful in the same way the angels in Renaissance paintings are. Pale skin, soft round lips, and sculpted jaws. They’re identical except for the small scar that cuts through the left eyebrow of one.
“And I see you brought a delicious treat,” the other interjects, turning his attention to me. “What is this lovely creature I see before me?”
He offers his hand, and I tentatively reach mine out. I don’t want to touch him, but I also don’t want to make a scene or upset them. Despite their beauty, these men think only in images of sadistic violence. I can’t make out the words, but all I feel is fear. All I hear are screams. For a moment, the sound of them drowns out every other voice in the room.
I hold my trembling hand steady, and one clasps it with his icy fingers. With a wink, he dips his head low and pushes his nose against my skin, inhaling deeply, then he kisses it. He darts out a reptilian tongue and tastes my skin, so fast I’m sure I imagine it. His brother does the same, and they turn to each other and smile.
“Told you,”eyebrow scarsays.
“Told you,” the other goads.
Their touch ignites a frenzied kaleidoscope of images in my head. Each one more violent than the last. Broken fingers. Bloody bindings. Broken spirits.
Cass, I don’t like this.
I’ll fucking kill them if they touch you again.
Cass stands up and moves in front of me, his large frame blocking me from the twins. His tone is even, perhaps even friendly, but I know he’s seething. “Roel, Ronan. This is Lily. She’s my chattel, and she is under my protection.”
The way he says “protection” makes my skin tingle—a balm against the raw wound of last night’s rejection, but I’m not stupid. I know what he’s doing, and I know we’re outnumbered.
“Very good.” Roel smirks. “And this is Amber. She belongs to us. Don’t you, darling?”
Amber slides lazily off the couch and crawls toward them, her hip bones poking through the fabric of her dress as she slinks forward like a cheetah. Ronan, the one with the scar, wraps his fingers around the chain attached to her collar and jerks it upward, so her head snaps back to greet him.
“Yes, Daddy,” she purrs.
“Good girl,” Roel says, patting her on the head. “Amber here came to us all the way from Salt Lake City, Utah. Such a sheltered littlething when we first met her. She’d never even had coffee, had you, my sweet girl?”
She shakes her head proudly, and Ronan continues. “And you were so set on saving us, weren’t you? You arrived with such noble intentions—a mission to liberate our souls.”
“Little did she know…” Roel says.
“Little did she know…” Ronan repeats.
“We have no souls,” they finish in unison.
I feel like I’m going to throw up, but I swallow the swell of bile-laced dread bubbling in my throat. That poor girl. The presence of the twins has kicked the flood of dead voices swirling around my head into overdrive.
With Cass blocking me from view, I close my eyes and picture myself standing at the window with my hands at the edges of the frame. I nudge it closed, but nothing happens. It doesn’t comply—in fact, it edges open a little more. An inch. I push harder, but it only widens further, letting more voices in. A fresh wave of voices lurches forward, babbling and clamoring for attention.
The sound of the room fades away, muffled by the chorus of them thirsting for blood. I’m aware of Cass’ voice somewhere in the distance as I search my purse for the bolsita. He’s talking to the twins about something to do with a vow, but I can’t make it out. My fingers clutch desperately at my keys, my wallet, a pack of gum, but it’s not there.
I need grounding. I have to focus, have to find Megan. Have to save her from this terrible place. Have to protect myself.