I glared at him, and then closed my eyes briefly as I felt nausea rolling deep inside of me, removing power that quickly was dangerous and it was taking everything I had to stay upright on my feet. Ryder was watching me, intently. It took a very powerful Witch not to succumb to the loss of their powers. Most would be flopping on the floor at his feet like a fish out of water.
I flicked my gaze to the walls, white walls to the naked eye. Sanction spells were written upon them, rendering anyone not of the Fae defenseless inside the room. "Cool trick," I growled righting myself and squaring my shoulders firmly.
"You have no visible ink, explain." Ryder said in disdain.
I smiled coldly, unwilling to share my secrets with him.
"Want another example of why you don’t want to fuck with me?"
"I don't need ink," I whispered narrowing my eyes at Ryder.
"Explain."
"I can't explain it, not here."
"Try," he barked angrily.
"I can't! Not without having a fucking target, so unless you want give me one…?" I let the question trail off leaving it for him to figure out. I was bluffing, of course, if I stepped out of the room I could call up the power to light up my spells, but he wasn’t on my need to know list as far as I was concerned.
"Sinjinn, bring me the contract. Zahruk, get to it."
I wanted to leave like this instant. The slithering feeling had yet to go away, as if something was literally crawling over my skin. I hated being unarmed, felt weak and the worst part was they knew I was. I knew how to fight better than most, but the odds were seriously not in my favor.
"On your knees," the one called Zahruk growled with a thick accent I tried to place.
"On my knees?" I exhaled slowly. I was in severe need of a stiff drink.
"Zahruk, give her some options first," Ryder said moving to lean his shoulder against a barren wall. There was nothing else I could immediately see inside this room other than white walls and marble flooring, also white. It looked sterile and that just made me want to run away.
"Choices are overrated, she won't tell us anyways," the one called Zahruk said. He was dressed in a white Assassins Creed looking robe, his face was hidden before he turned and looked directly at me. "Tell us why you hate the Fae. Marie couldn’t explain it since it was not her story to tell us." I watched him push his hood back revealing yet another Fae, beautiful and yet deadly. His eyes lit up in an electric blue color, which only made him more beautiful with his dark, shoulder length, wavy blonde hair and perfect bronze skin.
"Fuck. You." I snarled tearing my eyes from him and leveling Ryder with a murderous glare. They had no fucking right! "You want me to work for you? Fine, but that doesn't give you the right to ask stupid questions!"
"Told you, she's got stubborn written on her forehead Ryder," Zahruk laughed harshly.
My knees were kicked out from behind me violently. The same as had been done the day before inside his safe. I kept my eyes leveled on the Dark Prince. "I came with your fucking mark on me, because you said it would protect me!"
I flinched as a knife blade was brought to my throat as my hair was grabbed hard from behind, "You will address him with respect bitch," the words were cold, calculated and filled with promise of death dripping from each syllable.
"I said no other Fae could touch you without my permission Synthia. Do it Zahruk, no more fucking around, if she won't tell us—we will take it." Ryder's voice trailed off sending shivers racing down my spine. The knife was removed from my throat and the slithering on my skin intensified.
The room's air grew thick and tainted, dark magic running through my skin and searching inside my mind. My lips quivered and my hands shook where they were still balled up at my sides. "Ryder, don't…please." It took every ounce of pride inside of me to say it. I could feel something searching my memories.
Too little.
Too late.
I was no longer in the room with the Fae.
I was in a worse place than the Fae club now, one I hadn't been to since that ill-fated day. Tears swam in my eyes, but I refused to allow them to fall. I knew what was coming, knew it like the back of my hand. Voices I'd thought to never hear again laughed in front of me echoing around the walls.
"Darling, she's too young. She needs time," my mother's gentle voice sang with laughter as her ocean blue eyes lit up with her smile.
"Nonsense, she's old enough to dance with me Syrina," my father's deep baritone came seconds before his features smoothed out enough that I could see him motioning for the child who looked on with uncertainty. My father’s dark brown hair framed his face perfectly, as his eyes smiled with their perfect navy blue depths.
"Daddy, play our song!" The soft voice sent chills down my spine. That child was weak, pathetic.
I hated her.
I wanted to bury her.
And I had.
Long ago.
Journey's Faithfully came on, his hand never touching the stereo. Magic, he'd been the Head Master for the Spokane Coven. He'd been my hero and my teacher. I turn my head to the left and watch as the child decides if she should go, unsure of her place.