hiding his emotions served Merlin well. He didn’t show even a flicker of empathy or disgust as he stood watching. It was amazingly hard, and he worried each time that he wouldn’t be able to remain impassive. Unlike the psycho humans working for him, Merlin didn’t find any pleasure in Dafydd’s and Mateo’s pain and debasement. He was frightened, as well, that one or both of them would die before help came.
His efforts in making that happen soon were going too slowly, but he was making progress. He’d found what he hoped was the location of the core computer room that he needed to transmit his information to Annika. It was now a matter of confirming that fact and gaining access without detection. That was trickier, because if he was right, it was heavily secured and he would only get one shot at it. He had to be careful.
In the meantime, he could only deliver solace and help as best he could. Fortunately, he’d managed to convince Dracul that it was in his interests for Merlin to provide the help.
‘Master, they are only humans. So fragile. If they die too soon, your fun will end. Let me make it last for you.’
He’d almost choked on the words, finding it hard to lie convincingly. It told him more than anything that he’d changed rapidly in a short period of time. It was all because of Annika, of course. Each time he thought he might lose his bottle, he pictured her—her smile, her nods of encouragement and her words of praise. It helped him keep going.
He found Mateo already tending to Dafydd. Naturally, the Mad King held a particular fury for his former plaything. Mateo was for fucking, but Dafydd took horrible beatings along with the rapes. Sometimes, that was all Dracul wanted him for—a punching bag. The only relief was that after the first time, Dracul had avoided Dafydd’s face. That was because he liked looking at its beauty, not because of any real mercy. As he lay naked in the warm room, Dafydd’s skin showed the marks of a myriad of tortures.
“Come on now. Drink some more water.” Mateo was holding a bottle to Dafydd’s lips. “For Idris’ sake.”
Those were the magic words. Everything Dafydd did now, including giving Dracul the whimpers and begging he coaxed out of the man’s battered body, was clearly in service for staying alive for his son. He let Mateo get a good amount of water into him before flopping his head down again with a groan.
“I have something for the pain.” Merlin hurried over to join them, dropping to his knees on Dafydd’s other side.
Mateo frowned at him. “It better be good.”
Merlin held up an ampoule. “Morphine.”
Mateo nodded once in silent approval. Dafydd moved his hand closer to Merlin and grasped his forearm with surprising strength. “Idris?”
This was always the first thing the man said to Merlin—and often the only thing. Merlin understood the question. “He’s fine…giving that prat Andri a right bollocksing.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Dafydd’s mouth before it was chased away by an obvious grimace of pain. Merlin wasted no more time. A few seconds after he’d injected the medicine, Dafydd sighed and went slack. The morphine would give the poor bastard a few hours of sleep, although it was likely that he’d be plagued with nightmares. Who wouldn’t be, under the circumstances?
Merlin himself was sleeping with one eye open. There was nothing safe about this place, and it wasn’t even certain that Dracul had a tight rein on his mercenaries. More and more, Merlin had caught sly looks between the men, and a few had dared to leer at him. There was nothing concrete he could put his hands on, but he feared that with their ‘mission’ over and having resulted in a tremendous loss from their complement, the humans were starting to think that cutting and running would be a good option. As fearsome as Dracul was, he was still one against a couple of dozen. The time might soon come for Merlin to make his own strength fully known. The question was when—and how much could he get away with without setting off the Mad King’s hair-trigger temper?
Because that was a problem that required his full attention, he put it aside and concentrated on the here and now. “I have another dose if you need it.” The underground complex lacked for little, stocked for an army to last years without surfacing. There were enough opiates to feed