Page 11 of The Bodyguard and the Alpha (Witch Twins #2)

Electra

“They’re coming,” Bastien said. My brain screamed danger.

Instinctively I reacted, rolling to my feet—head throbbing, bad idea— reaching for my magic, trying to get a ping from my pre-cog.

But of course, there was nothing. Dizziness from my head injury and disorientation from the lack of magic made me stumble into the wall.

Fuck. Useless. I was useless as a bodyguard now.

I couldn’t sense danger. I couldn’t protect my principal.

“Breathe, Elie.” Bastien’s tall form was beside me. “It’s not your fault.”

Deep breaths. Head leaning against the wall, I waited until I didn’t feel like I was having a heart attack.

Bastien was right. It wasn’t my fault. Logically, I knew that.

My brain knew that. But my heart didn’t.

One more deep breath. Ruthlessly I shoved the emotion down.

I’d been ignoring my heart for years now.

I could do it a bit longer. Straightening my spine, I made myself stand tall, despite the pain.

If I couldn’t be helpful, I at least had to not be a burden.

I wouldn’t be pathetic. I wouldn’t cry. It was just the dust in the cell. That was all. Yeah.

The door opened, letting in some light from the corridor outside.

It was enough that I could make out four men entering our cell.

They wore masks but their movements, lacking the fluid grace of Shifters, made it clear they were human.

Three of them pointed automatic weapons at Bastien.

He took a step, blocking me as I tried to move in front of him. Dammit. He was still my principal.

“Easy or hard. Your choice,” said the one without a gun. He had some other sort of weapon. A long stick. I didn’t recognise it.

“I’ll co-operate.” The snarl I’d heard in Bastien’s voice when I’d told him I was injured was completely absent.

He was pulling on his politician’s persona.

Smooth. Urbane. If you couldn’t see the shackles on his wrists and ankles, you’d think he was at a meet-and-greet.

He was even still wearing his tailor-made suit.

It was crumpled now, but it still hugged his broad shoulders and emphasised his trim waist. I probably looked like I’d been dragged backwards through a hedge, while he was as handsome as ever.

Damn Shifter genetics. It was unfair to the rest of the male population.

Unfair to those of us who wanted to find a human who didn’t look like a teenage boy by comparison.

And add in that human males seemed to be commitment-phobic or incapable of staying monogamous, it was no wonder human women went nuts over Shifter men.

“I’m sure you will,” said Stick-guy.

Shit. My mind was wandering. I’d zoned out. Perhaps I did have some concussion. I needed to pay attention.

Bastien turned his head towards me, his gaze holding mine, his expression unreadable.

“I’ll come back to you,” he said. Just as Stick-guy stepped forward and pressed the stick into Bastien’s ribs.

Bastien convulsed in pain for long seconds, then slumped forwards, limp body held upright by the chains attached to the wall.

“No!” The shriek was out of my mouth, and I lunged at Stick-guy without conscious thought.

The manacles pulled me up short, straining my shoulders, pain radiating down to my hands, sending them numb.

Fuck that hurt . “Bastard.” Bastien had said he would co-operate.

He’d shown them no violence. And they’d shocked him anyway.

“Worried about your mutt boyfriend?” sneered Stick-guy. He ran his gaze up and down my body, lingering on my breasts. I held in a shudder, refusing to show him how he affected me. “I think you need to fuck a real man to see what you’ve been missing.” He groped his crotch suggestively.

I took a step backwards. Not in fear, but in readiness. I needed space to move. If he touched me, I’d kill him.

Something must have shown in my expression, because his laugh faltered briefly.

Then, because he needed to shore up his ego, after showing weakness, he turned vicious.

He whirled, swinging the stun stick at me.

I dodged, too slow because of my manacles and my injuries and the stick connected with my shoulder.

I arched in pain, mouth opening in a scream, as it hit the place where I was already bruised.

And then he turned it on.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Sharp pain radiated out from the site, travelling along my nerve endings, lighting up my body like a fucking Christmas tree. Unconsciousness was a welcome relief.

When I came to, my face against the cold concrete, Bastien was gone.

In the dark, I had no way to tell how long I’d been out.

It hurt to roll over and my head throbbed in time with my pulse.

But I wasn’t dead and I wasn’t currently being tortured.

Things could be worse. And if I was alive, there was hope.

***

The sound of a key in the lock woke me from a light doze.

I stayed slumped in my corner as the door opened.

Restrained, with no magic, there was nothing I could do.

And I didn’t want to draw Stick-guy’s attention right now.

The more he hurt me, the harder it would be to get out of here.

But a time would come when he would regret how he’d hurt Bastien.

I watched through half-open lids as two men dragged Bastien back into the cell.

I didn’t let my muscles tense up as I saw the extent of the injuries they’d inflicted on him.

My breathing stayed slow and steady. I didn’t clench my fists.

Hating myself, I lay like a broken doll on the floor.

But in my head, it was another matter. I’d never actively wished for another person’s death before.

Now I did. Now I imagined letting my magic loose on him.

Not my protective defensive magic. No, I imagined flames shooting from my fingers, engulfing him.

While Stick-guy kicked Bastien’s ribs after they’d dropped him onto the floor, I imagined the sound of Stick-guy’s screams.

I would wait. His time would come. They always said that revenge was a dish served cold. They called me the Ice Queen, and this revenge was going to be fucking frozen.