Page 15 of The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash #6)

No.

No, this couldn’t be real.

I couldn’t breathe as I closed my eyes again, giving my head a quick, frantic shake. He was dead. I could see him clearly, his broken body strung up and impaled to the wall by his favorite cane.

A low, flat chuckle snapped my eyes open. His bloodless lips curled into a smirk as those soulless eyes swept over me. Revulsion crawled across my skin like a thousand spiders.

A hint of too-sharp canines dragged across his lower lip. “I’ve always preferred you in white.”

Glancing down at myself, my entire being turned cold. The sleeping gown was white. But that didn’t make sense. It had been blue, hadn’t it?

“Though I think we can agree that you’re no longer as pristine and untouched as the color of the Chosen suggests,” he remarked. “Then again, when were you ever truly…untouched?”

Pressure clamped down on my chest as I realized the walls were no longer gold and cream but had darkened to mahogany paneling. I could feel their stares, the pestilence of their overly friendly hands, and the cold, smooth surface of the cane against my skin.

His head tilted, sending a lock of pale hair across his forehead. “You have been very, very ill-behaved, Penellaphe. You know what that means.”

Of course, I did.

Punishment.

Lessons that may not have scarred my skin but had stained my soul, leaving me with the sticky residue of shame that choked me and held me frozen.

“Now, be a good girl.” Teerman reached for me.

I stared at the hand missing a finger, adorned with a golden swirl.

Neither of those two things made sense. Teerman had no such imprint. I glanced up, and my lips parted. The Duke was no longer there.

He stood only a handful of feet from me. Gone was the pallid skin, replaced by warm, golden-bronze flesh.

I stumbled back and bumped into a chair. Another spasm ran through me as I noticed cream-and-gold walls. Weren’t they just…? I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead. A whirlwind of confusion engulfed me, leaving my thoughts tangled as I saw the golden trim and sandstone walls.

I…I didn’t understand.

“Everything will be okay.” Concern filled every striking line of his features. I couldn’t keep looking at him, seeing that in his face. It hurt. “I’m going to help you,” he assured.

Don’t trust his words , instinct warned. Look at him. Really look at him.

I did, and horror seized me because, despite how genuine his worry had sounded seconds ago, Teerman stood at the foot of the settee.

What…what was happening? Was it some kind of magic—Primal essence? It had to be. But how would Teerman be able to harness such a power? He wasn’t—

Piercing pain stabbed my temples, silencing that train of thought and leaving me stunned until the torment faded.

That fucking smirk I hated was plastered on Teerman’s cruelly handsome face as he trailed his slender fingers over the wooden trim of the settee. He tsked under his breath. “I know what you need.”

I was going to vomit.

“And I’ll give it to you.” His arm dropped to his side, and I realized he hadn’t been stroking the wooden frame. It was the cane . The reddish-black wood shone in the filtered sunlight. “Just how you like it.”

I was really going to vomit.

But afterward.

He stalked closer.

Every sense felt heightened. Every muscle tensed for the next move. “Don’t…come near me,” I spat.

“You’re safe with me,” he swore.

No. I shook my head. Lies. I couldn’t fall for it. Fall for him and his pretty words, his promises of love and devotion. They were lies. He was incapable of—

The room around me melted away, and I saw gold—golden floors and the bars of a gilded cage.

I drew back, my heart racing as I sucked in a stuttered breath. I blinked rapidly. The vision—or memory—was brief. The golden bars disappeared, but it served as a potent reminder of what could happen if I believed his words.

I would be trapped.

Caged.

That would never happen again .

My heart calmed as my gaze locked with his.

Pain and something akin to sorrow settled into his features. Neither emotion looked right on his pale skin as his chest rose with a deep breath and his shoulders squared. I saw the moment he realized I was readying myself to fight my way out.

And I knew he would do everything within his power to prevent me from leaving.

Never again .

Latching onto the anger, I pulled on it, letting it entrench itself deep in my bones, seep into my muscles, and flow through my veins. Eather pulsed.

He sighed. “I guess we’re doing this, aren’t we?”

I launched myself at him.

He effortlessly dodged my attack. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

His words were like a strike of flint against steel, igniting another explosion of fury inside me. Catching myself on the bedpost, I spun and kicked out, aiming for his legs.

In the back of my head, I knew it wasn’t as fluid as it should’ve been—the twist and kick were stiff. I was too slow, and he was already anticipating my next move, easily leaping over me. I sprang up and turned as he faced me, landing a solid punch to his stomach.

Stumbling back, he let out a laugh. “Ouch.”

I swung again, but he blocked it with his forearm. Undeterred, I threw a punch toward his jaw. This time, he wasn’t fast enough to dodge. My fist connected with his face, knocking his head back. Satisfaction surged, but I didn’t waste time. I whirled toward the door.

He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back against his chest. His breath tickled my cheek as he whispered, “I know you can fight better than this.”

A low growl rumbled in my throat as I lifted a leg to stomp on his foot.

Before I could make contact, he lifted me off the ground and flung me sideways. I gasped, bracing myself for impact with the hard floor.

It never came.

I landed on the bed and bounced, momentarily stunned and confused by what had just happened.

He approached me with a smug grin, the picture of supreme arrogance except… The golden gleam in his eyes had dulled, and he looked sad.

My heart twisted sharply. I…I didn’t like the idea of him being sad—

I shut down that line of thought. It was a trick. I needed to focus. I took a deep breath and waited until he was just a step away before rocking back on the bed and pushing out with my feet.

He took the hit to his chest and staggered back. “Fuck,” he grunted. “I think you may have cracked a rib, Princess.”

I should’ve felt satisfaction, but I felt sort of sick as I slid off the bed. I rushed for one of the doors. Grasping the gold handle, I yanked it open—

A large clawfoot tub—an absolutely beautiful clawfoot tub—greeted me.

“Wrong door.”

Hissing, I spun toward the other one. He was so damn quick, planting himself in front of the exit.

I charged, my swings and kicks coming in rapid succession, but he was good—and fast—his movements so fluid it seemed like he was part of the very air around us.

He deftly blocked each blow, but as he caught my next swing and pushed me back, I saw the beginnings of deep purple bruises forming on his skin.

A mix of satisfaction and sorrow filled me at knowing I was causing him pain, but I also felt a twinge of guilt for hurting someone I…

Pain stabbed my temples, making me stumble. He caught me by the shoulders, and my head jerked up.

His chiseled features, rigid and severe, softened the moment our gazes met. “We don’t have to do this.”

I drew my knee up, aiming for his stomach. Groaning, he dropped his hold. Without wasting time, I turned for the other door.

He wrapped an arm around my waist with a curse and spun me back toward the bed. I let out a frustrated growl.

“Growl all you want,” he said, the line of his jaw hard. “You’re not getting past me.”

There was no mistaking his determination to keep me here. It was a fire burning in his eyes and tone, and it was all too familiar.

Never again.

I charged him, dropping low to strike with a vicious kick.

He jumped, avoiding the leg sweep. I popped up, panting for breath.

Sweat glistened on his brow, and a line of crimson trickled from the corner of his split lip, staining his jaw and cheek.

The metallic scent of his blood filled my nostrils. Hunger gnawed at me.

I needed to feed.

If I did, I knew I could take him down instead of merely trying to escape. That’s what I should be doing. But…

Something stopped me. Was it my distrust? Getting close enough to feed would make me vulnerable. Or was it the knowledge that he hadn’t once swung on me?

It didn’t matter.

He stepped toward me, and I thrust my knee up, aiming for his groin. With swift movements, he shielded himself with his thigh and then tried to pin my arms to my sides.

Realizing he was going for the type of hold that would force submission, I let my legs buckle.

Unprepared for my dead weight, his grip slipped. He cursed as I landed on my knees. Ignoring the dull pain, I rocked back and jumped to my feet.

A wave of tingles swept up the back of my head, momentarily causing darkness to creep into the corners of my vision. Breathing harshly, I backed up until I hit the wall. Agitation and rising exhaustion grew as he calmly waited for my next move.

With one last surge of energy, I pushed off the wall and used a nearby chair to gain height. Balancing precariously on the seat, I jumped off and kicked toward him. The wooden legs scraped against the floor, desperately trying to gain traction.

My body moved swiftly through the air, muscles coiled as I started to twist and extend my leg—

The bastard snagged me in midair.

A snarl of anger tore from my lips as he effortlessly hauled me back against him. His pine-and-spice scent filled my nostrils. I struggled against his hold, his grip like an iron vise around my arms.

“I can do this all night,” he taunted, his voice low. “But I’d prefer not to.”

Fueled by anger and panic, I threw my head back without thinking, connecting with his chin. A spike of pain joined the pounding as he grunted in surprise.