Mark of Love (Love Mark #3) - Linda Kage Page 0,148

been to him.

Oh, well. I knew.

Smirking behind my gag, because giving him the bird made me feel better inside, I brightened enough to breathe easier. I mean, it wasn’t as nice as I’d feel unchained from the wall and out of this damn torture room, but sometimes you had to take your amusement wherever you could get it.

I’d learned that from Indigo.

I had thought he was insane at first when he’d been sitting on that damn zebra, looking like a fool with his hands bound together as our prisoner, and all he’d done in response was smile and hum “Singin’ in the Rain” as if everything was grand.

But now I had to admire him for it. Because even though the situation hadn’t been magnificent, he’d somehow made the best of it. He could weather a storm with humor and cheer like no one I’d ever met before.

I had a bad feeling that might be the only way I was going to survive this storm. By not losing my mind and falling victim to the darkness.

Because looking at Everett’s extractor kind of made me want to hyperventilate until I went mad with fear and fell straight into a vat of mindless terror.

“That’s okay,” Everett was saying, forcing me to focus on him. “Your vulgarity will only help me treat you more like the vile piece of scum you are. Help remind me what you did to my son.” Stepping closer, he caught my chin and forced me to look up at him, the wicked intent in his gaze making me shudder. “And you will suffer for that.”

His gaze ran over my face and down to my chest, and his lashes lowered with lust. “Prepare to suffer in every way imaginable, whore.”

Bile rose in my throat as his hand released its grip on my chin, and one of his fingers began to trail down the side of my neck.

With my protests muffled behind the cloth, I could only thrash against his touch, unable to avoid him as his fingers moved over my collar. I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed convulsively, not able to avoid the feel of him.

Just as he reached the top of my bodice, the door to the chamber flew open, banging against the wall.

“What the hell?” Everett whirled around as the room filled with armed palace guards. “You can’t just burst in here like that,” he shouted, waving his hands dramatically to get them to go. “Who the hell do you think you are? This is my private workroom. Get out!”

“Kneel in the presence of your king,” one of the men ordered, his stern command causing Everett to curse under his breath just before the doorway filled with a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette that wore a sharp, jutting crown and a fluttering cape.

Everett instantly fell to one knee and bowed his head. “Your Majesty,” his gruff voice worked out the greeting. “I was not expecting—”

The ruler of High Cliff lifted his hand, silencing my captor as he entered the room. I’d never seen King Ignatius before and had no idea what to expect. Maybe a slovenly, unkempt and oily mass of evil, someone who never bothered to rise from his throne where he issued his austere orders.

But this neat and tidy—while still large and domineering—man had a very regal and noble, clean-cut presence about him. His shoulders were wide and proudly stiff, his nose long and straight, eyes dark and shrewd. His gold crown sat on a bald head but the weathered beard that was streaked with dark and gray hair more than made up for the lacking portion on top.

He gazed around the room, taking in everything yet passing over me as if I didn’t even exist. Then he stopped in front of the extractor.

“I see that your creation’s finally complete,” he said to Everett as he nodded to it.

“Yes, my king. After two years of intense construction and obtaining various magics from over a dozen different mages, I fully believe it’ll work now.”

King Ignatius nodded once. “Let’s hope that it does. As your very life now hinges on its success.”

Everett paled but bobbed his head in affirmation. “It will, Your Majesty.”

“Explain the process to me again.”

Pushing to his feet, Everett eagerly stepped forward. “The subject will lie here, unclothed, arms strapped and fastened here and here by these manacles.”

Unclothed? Had he just said unclothed? My stomach dipped with dread.

“Legs here,” Everett went on, pointing out the obvious planks my legs would lie on, “with these clamps snapped