Page 62 of Devoured

I groan again.

He curses under his breath. “Right. Not the time for jokes.”

“Strangle—you—” is all I can manage in response.

“You sound more like yourself, at least.” He grins at me, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Listen, I need to get the silver out of your bones. It’s already infected your blood. You’ll die before tomorrow if you don’t start to heal. I know I am the last person you want operating on you—”

I mutter my agreement.

“—but you’re not my first patient, and I don’t trust any of my mother’s werewolves to do this.”

“Who?” I ask, my voice barely a breath.

Sin understands. He tears away the rest of my clothes, leaving enough to cover my chest to my thighs, and says, “You remember what happened to my father? Well—I suppose, not my father. Calix’s father. My uncle.” His gaze darkens for a second before he shakes his head. “This is all so messed up.”

Wishing I could clutch the bed to brace myself, I nod imperceptibly. “Yes.”

Sin prepares the rest of his tools. Pliers. Gauze. Salve. A hand towel. A glass bottle of dark brown liquid. “I was in Poland when he died. At some ridiculous mating ceremony between a duchess and an earl. It wasn’t even necessary for us to attend, but Sybil took me everywhere in my youth. I think she enjoyed parading around her power and status.” Sin scoffs to himself. “As soon as we returned, the travel stopped. Her husband had died an impossible death. Shot in the heart with wolfsbane.” He glances at me, his red gaze deepening with hurt. I know this story already, though. Calix shared it with me months ago.

“A werewolf was shot in the chest, and no one bothered to examine him,” Sin says. “Everyone blamed Calix for it. The court hated him even more than before. Sybil turned her head whenever someone bigger and older decided to abuse him. They hung him from the rafters. They burned all his clothes. They beat him bloody. No one helped him either. He was just a kid.” Sin’s voice breaks. He exhales hard, then picks up the bottle of liquid. He presses it to my lips. “Drink,” he orders.

I refuse.

He huffs. “It’ll take away some of the pain, but not all of it. The only way to do this without any pain would be knocking you unconscious, and—”

I shake my head as violently as possible, and Sin rolls his eyes.

“I know, Vanessa.” Then, quieter as his gaze falls back to mine, “I know.”

My pulse stutters. How much does he know? That I haven’t slept? That I’m terrified of him? That he broke me?

He nods as if he can hear my questions and isn’t ashamed of the truth. “It’ll take away some of the pain,” he repeats, “but not all of it. Your injuries are extensive.” When I still don’t open my mouth, he curses and lifts the bottle to his own. Taking a small swig, swallowing emphatically, he says, “See? Not poison.”

Reluctantly, I peel my lips apart.

Sin glances at them, pushing the bottle to my tongue before pouring it slowly down my throat. “That’s it. Every last drop.”

I glare at him but obey. Instantly, the sweet liquid dulls the worst of the fire under my skin and numbs the world until even my vision turns hazy at the edges. My throat stops burning quite so badly. I swallow hard. “Thank you.”

He smiles sadly again, rolls up the hand towel, and then pushes it to my mouth. “Bite down,” he says. “You don’t want to accidentally chomp off your tongue.”

I angle my cheek away from him, more in control of my body now. “Is it going to be that bad?”

“There’s silver in your bones, Vanessa. It’s not going to feel good.” Releasing the towel, he reaches out and reflexively strokes a bead of spilled liquid from the corner of my mouth. Heat ignites from his touch, just as it always does, but I ignore it. “I have to cut it out,” he explains, as if I hadn’t figured that out minutes ago. “You have to be still, okay? Or I’ll have to tie you down.”

The memory of those brutal manacles flashes through my mind, and my muscles seize. “N-no. No more binds.”

“Can you lie still?”

“Yes.” I nod fervently.

“We’ll get you food and water after this. I don’t want you to vomit and asphyxiate—”

“The less you tell me, Sin, the better,” I murmur. “Please, for the love of god, shut up.”

He grins, and now it does reach his eyes. Just a little. Just enough for the sight to steal my breath. “So you don’t want to know what’s happening?”

“If you so much as utter the word bone saw again, I’ll use it to cut off all your pretty hair.”