The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,100
see how much damage I did. Crawling away, I try to get to my feet, but he grabs my ankle.
Fiery pain spreads through my lower leg. At first, I think he stabbed me, but when I glance back, I see a metal cuff on me.
Forgetting about anything but how much it hurts, I claw at it with both hands, burning my fingers in the process. “It’s hot. It’s too hot.”
Wiping blood from his lip, the man observes me with a peculiar expression. “Of course it is. It’s iron.”
With rapid-fire thoughts running through my head—mostly having to do with the excruciating sizzle on my skin—I groan as he hauls me up.
“I can’t be burned by iron,” I half-mumble, half-whine. “I’m not fae yet.”
Gathering my hair in his fist, he wrenches my head to the side and studies my ear. “Close enough. Nice little nubs you got.”
Nubs?
I touch my ear, and he’s right—there’s a bump at the top where it was smooth before.
This can’t be happening already. I can’t be turning. It’s too soon.
“You’re a runaway, huh?” The man keeps his bruising grip on my upper arm as he drags me toward the back door. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. Your old master isn’t here. I am.”
He thinks I’m a kidnapped human. I suppose it wouldn’t help to correct him and say I’m a queen. That might make him more determined to keep me.
“Stop. Don’t do this,” I plead, but he ignores my begging.
“I’m still trying to decide if I’m going to keep you for myself or use you up like these sorry bastards.”
When I get a full view of the next room, my stomach lurches. Three people are inside, and they’re strapped to tables. One is a child. Judging by his small size, the boy can’t be older than ten. None of them are moving, and they remind me of the prisoners on the ship. Shackles keep them bolted in place, and I imagine they’re in a lot of pain.
I’ve only got one iron band on me, and I can barely stand it.
As I’m pulled into the doorway, I dig my heels into the dirt. I can’t go in there. If I do, I’m afraid I’ll never see the light of day again.
My struggle is pointless, but I try to yank my arm out of the man’s grasp anyway. “If you let me go now, I won’t tell anyone about what I saw here.”
Pain suddenly rips through my chest. It’s like the worst acid reflux I’ve ever had. Coughing, I double over.
“A little liar, eh?” My captor chuckles. “Unpleasant, isn’t it? In time, you’ll either learn to tolerate it, or tell the truth. That is, if I let you live.”
Hanging onto some semblance of rational thought, I do what I did in my first lesson with Damon—I pretend to trip.
I cry out as I collapse. The man doesn’t let go of my arm and pain shoots from my shoulder, but I keep up the act as I dangle from his hold.
“My ankle. It hurts too much.” The pain in my voice isn’t pretend.
Rolling his eyes, he grunts, “Baby faeries.”
While he bends down to pick me up, I slip a hand under my dress. Although the cloak is disheveled, it’s still tied at my neck. Gathering the invisible material in my fist, my actions are undetected as I retrieve the dagger strapped to my leg.
When the man hooks his arm under my legs, it leaves him open.
I stab him in the neck as hard as I can. The blade cuts through muscle and tissue, sinking to the hilt.
“You bitch,” he chokes out, dropping me to remove the knife.
I scramble away, limping toward the exit. With every move, the shackle sears my skin. It feels like my flesh will be burned all the way to the bone, but I keep going.
Stepping over one of the tripwires, I make it out into the hall leading to the outside.
I didn’t close the exit before. The door is hanging open, and the warm light at the end of the tunnel is my goal. If I can make it out, I have a chance.
My hope shatters when I’m yanked backward. Pain explodes in my head when my skull hits the ground, and spots dance in my vision. Blinking to clear the haze, I look back, and the man has his foot planted firmly in the dirt.
No, not the dirt. He’s stepping on the cloak. And he’s pissed. His golden eyes blaze with rage as he seethes. Blood