Page 151 of Tainted Souls
Cain moves to crouch in front of me, wiping tears from my face in a mock attempt to console me. “Would you like a sneakpeek into the next few days of your life trying to refuse me? Starting soon, pieces of your family will be removed. One finger at a time. One limb at a time. Until there’s nothing left but their screams for you to remember them by.” He moves to a nearby table, lifting a crystal decanter. “Wine?”
The casual offer in the midst of his threats and torture is so absurd I almost laugh. “I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself.” He pours himself a glass of deep red liquid that I doubt is only wine, then takes a sip, savoring it. “Let’s try again,” he says, setting down his glass with deliberate care. “Will you become my bride willingly, or shall we sharpen the motivation?”
My eyes dart to my mother, whose face has gone ashen as she shakes her head minutely, trying to tell me not to give in. I look at Saul, blood still trickling from the shallow cut on his throat, his good eye fixed on me with a plea I can’t answer.
“Just give me some time to think,” I whisper, defeat growing in my chest.
“By all means.” Cain gestures for violence again. “Allow me to help you focus your thoughts.”
The vampire cracks my mother’s fingers until bones break, one by one as instructed. She doesn’t scream, but tears stream down her face, her body rigid with agony.
Cain picks up his glass again and swirls the contents with sickening glee as he watches. When the vampire is done with my mother’s hand, Cain turns to Lexa, his eyes sparkling with inspiration.
“My dear, may I borrow your blade?” he asks. “The special one.”
Something like hesitation crosses Lexa’s face before she reaches to her belt, unsheathing a lumen dagger with garnet inlays that glimmer like embers trapped in stone. Every captaingets an ornamented one like hers upon promotion. She hands it to him, her movements stiff.
Cain tests the edge with his thumb. “Such exquisite craftsmanship. Redmoore’s finest creation, I believe? Fit for kings, and none more fitting than me.” He twirls the dagger between his fingers, turning it into a streaking blur of shimmering teal. “Did you know, Seraph, that we Nobles have special adaptations? Our hearts are protected by hardened tissue that even lumenite cannot penetrate.” He taps his chest proudly. “A divine insurance policy.”
My stomach drops as he walks to Saul, who’s slumped in his bonds, barely conscious.
“You and your brother, however,” Cain continues, pressing the tip of the blade against Saul’s chest, “lack certain advantages. Half-breeds are such fascinating creatures—neither fully one thing nor the other.”
The tip breaks Saul’s skin, drawing a bead of dark blood that wells around the metal. His eyes snap open, suddenly alert with pain.
Flashes of Ace’s hand buried inside my chest tear through my mind, remembering how close I’d come to death back then. Even with Noble blood in our veins, our hearts remain exposed beneath fragile skin.
“Wait!” I cry out.
Cain doesn’t listen, only presses harder, until the blade has sunk a quarter-inch into Saul’s flesh. “Interesting. It seems the dhampir heart isn’t quite as protected as ours.”
Saul starts gagging, a sheen of sweat coating his brow. His breaths come ragged and shallow, each one sounding like a desperate wheeze. The color drains from his lips, leaving them pale and cracked.
His fingers are clawing at something that isn’t there.
A cold, crawling dread coils up my spine as the life inside him begins to slip away.
“I’ll do it,” I say, unable to look anywhere but the floor. “I’ll be your bride.”
Cain pauses, the dagger still embedded in my brother’s chest. “Say it again. With feeling this time.”
My hands tremble uncontrollably at my sides, the only sound in the room my mother’s strained, silent sobs.
There’s no escape. I know it. And Cain knows it, too.
The part of me that once resisted, that fought for something better, has withered away in the face of his power. My body feels like a shell, empty and devoid of will.
I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “I’ll be your bride.” There’s absolutely no feeling in my words at all, and he won’t be getting any from me either.
Cain studies me, searching for deceit.
Finding none, he withdraws the dagger with ostentatious slowness, then wipes it clean on Saul’s shirt before handing it back to Lexa with a flourish.
He raises his glass to Lucien with a satisfied nod. “Excellent choice.”
Relief washes over me as my mother slumps in her restraints, her breathing labored but steady. My brother’s head drops in defeat, blood trickling down his chest where the dagger has left its mark.
