Cara MIA - By Book One of the Immortyl Revolution - By Denise Verrico Page 0,67
“You’re a locked door! Damn you!” Cold darkness swirled around as he took hold of my hips. As loathsome experiences go, it was the worst.
I was torn, bruised, and bleeding all over when that animal finished. Finally, he gave me his wrist. “Go on, drink. I’ll take you to Gaius. We’ll have time enough to work on you.”
As soon as his blood hit my system, vision locked in: hospital gurneys and small Immortyls chained down, their blood siphoned out by tubes and pieces of their flesh cut away by scalpels, screaming in agony as Dirk and Gaius watched. The vision flickered for only a moment, replaced by a glowing skull with yellowish eyes.
He unchained me. “Get dressed.” I reached out, scratching a huge gash on his face. He shoved me against the wall. “You’ll pay for that.”
I struggled with my dress. He watched, with a satisfied smirk on his face. He grabbed my arm and dragged me along a corridor to a stone staircase, pulling me up the steps and through a doorway concealed by tapestries. Torches illuminated archaic instruments of torture and hospital gurneys. The room I’d seen in the blood was very real.
“Gaius will bring you later for some fun.” He pressed a switch concealed in a panel on the opposite wall. It slid aside to reveal a large, luxurious apartment with huge windows overlooking the bay. Sitting at a small round table were Ethan, Gaius and his women playing cards. The women laughed as Ethan told an anecdote in Italian. Dirk dragged me in front of Gaius. Ethan looked at my disheveled appearance and his eyes went cold. “Sniveling dog, the terms aren’t even decided!”
Gaius was stone-faced. “Dirk, what has transpired?”
“I made sure she wasn’t a spy.”
Ethan jumped to his feet, grabbing Dirk by the lapels. “You bled her? Who gave you permission?”
Dirk’s yellow eyes narrowed as he spat in Ethan’s face, “Remove your hands you strutting peacock, or I’ll cut your throat.”
“Enough!” Gaius growled.
Ethan released Dirk. “He has no right!”
Dirk smirked. “It’s not like it’s the first time.”
“Silence!” Gaius thundered, and I do mean that, the room shook. Dirk paled and backed off, slinking into a corner.
Ethan sat me down, but the coward couldn’t look me in the eye as he examined the marks and bruises Dirk had left. “Animal, I wouldn’t give her to you for any price!”
Gaius slugged Dirk. “You’ve ruined any chance you may have had— and now I owe him damages! Stupid beast! Ethan, will accept you the painting as compensation, with my deepest apologies?”
“I’d like his head better.”
“That would be a matter for the council. We don’t need to involve them, do we?”
Lisette brought warm water and gently washed blood from my skin. My wounds burned as if they had been cauterized.
Guilietta stared hard at me. “I knew she’d cause problems.”
Gaius stared her down. “No one asked your opinion.”
“You put too much trust in that buffoon over there, so your alphas are turning. Ethan is right. Take his head!”
The Wolf’s eyes went cold. “You’re dismissed.”
Guilietta glided past. “Mark me, it won’t end here.”
Gaius turned to Ethan. “Perhaps it’s best you go now.”
Twenty minutes later, Gaius’s boat sped back over the bay to our villa with Ethan cradling his crated painting and me huddled on the deck in a robe belonging to Lisette. Pleased with the turn of events, he hummed a little tune, mentally tallying his take while I sat utterly wretched and spent by the night’s events.
“Cheer up, Madam. You’ll never be troubled by that swine again.”
“If only I could say the same for you.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly did Brovik promise you?”
Kurt’s face flickered before me, but I was too drained to feel desire, only a deep longing, sadness.
“You went above and beyond for our glorious cause, my dear.”
“Don’t you ever know when to shut the fuck up?”
“You were so gung ho on this. You didn’t agree to be manhandled just to make Brovik happy. We’ll just have to wait and see if he comes through with the goods.”
Brovik lost no time in calling on us, Philip in tow. He was very pleased with the outcome of the venture and brought me a small golden falcon as a gift.
“Egyptian. Very old,” Ethan said, appraising it. “Horus.”
“Had it for centuries— our Bird of Prey should have it. You’re returning to America. I have more work for you there. Philip has your payment in that briefcase; count it if you don’t trust me. Mia, join me on the terrace? I wish