afflicted

12

A/N: This chapter is very dark. It has mentions of sexual assault, heavy violence, and torture. Don't read if those are things that may trigger you.

Void black eyes stared back at her. The man was a sickly pale color, a stench roiling off of him. He smelled as though he were rotting from the inside. Despite his pallor, he was dressed in pressed, fine clothes. His blonde hair was neatly combed and gelled.

His worm-like lips curled into a taunting flash of teeth. She couldn't even refer to it as a smile. He held such a hollow blackness. Something about him felt so off, so wrong, so unnatural.

His throat was adorned with a thick black collar.

She dove across the floor, wrapping her hand around the hilt of the ruby dagger she had found hidden in the couch. The man crossed the threshold, his movements slow and unrushed. How had he found them? Who was he? What was he?

"What a wonderful little surprise that prying bastard left for me to find," he cooed, his voice melodic and unsettling. He watched as she scrambled to her feet and held out the dagger in an attempt to keep him at a distance. He didn't seem concerned about her possession of a weapon in the slightest.

"What's your name, pet? What does he call you when he whistles for you like a bitch dog? I can't imagine the fucker having any empathy, which ironically is the only thing I appreciate about him." She assumed he meant Azriel. Perhaps he hadn't been entirely honest about his daily missions. How did this man know him or where to find him?

Her eyes kept flicking to the door, as if any moment he'd walk in and save her. Taking note of her hope, the stranger's smile grew. His eyes were glittering black like a shark. No part of him seemed human.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, palms sweaty as she white-knuckled the ornate blade. Azriel would come back. She could trust Azriel. She just needed to bide her time, keep him talking. Ego had been the fall of greater men.

"He's not coming to save you, darling," he purred at her, taking two steps closer. She swallowed, trying to think of a plan. If she kept letting him gain ground on her, he'd push her into the corner and she'd be fucked.

She tried to hear Azriel's voice in her head, telling her what to do. She couldn't physically overpower the man. The only advantage she had was speed and size. If she could get past him and out the door, she would have more escape options than she had now.

"In fact," the male continued, "I'll bet my friends have already wrangled him and taken him back to Maeve. It's a shame he can't be here to see what I'm going to do to you. She's got big plans for him, you know. She loves a handsome plaything, especially one with his talents." He took another step forward. She didn't budge.

"She makes a hobby of collecting beautiful warriors and bending them to her will. Servicing her as she desires and doing her dirty work. And, yes, darling, I do mean servicing in exactly the way you imagine. It's brilliant truthfully. Or perhaps she'll implant one of us inside of his body. Oh, the ways we'd use his powers would make you tremble, darling. He has only scratched the surface of his darkness. A beast lurks beneath that pretty skin."

Calina lunged, attempting to get past him and out the door, but he was impossibly fast. She hadn't anticipated that. He gripped her forearms roughly, shoving her back against the wall. She writhed in his iron grip, but it was useless. He was supernaturally strong. She was doomed unless she wanted to try and heal him to death. She didn't even summon her powers, knowing it was silly to even try. She'd probably end up making him stronger somehow.

His breath was coppery and foul. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her in place. His leg parted hers, pushing his thigh against her core. She whimpered, closing her eyes and begging Azriel to come back and help her. Her stomach was churning, and an incurable terror was slithering up her spine. She felt helpless, terrified, and trapped.