“Enough.” She turned away as the nymphs reluctantly released him, unable to look at the beads of sweat sliding down the rugged and mysterious scar on the left side of his face, more prominent now that he’d shaved. Unwilling to draw in another image of his chiseled, naked, very aroused body and what the nymphs had done, she ushered the slave girls out into the hall and quickly followed.
Zagreus had two satyrs waiting for them. Two who grabbed the nymphs and dragged them away, moaning and shaking. Cynna didn’t want to think about what the satyrs were going to do to the nymphs. Didn’t want to think about the fact that what those females were feeling was a high like that from a drug, one they couldn’t control. Didn’t want to acknowledge that by being forced to use them to torment Nick, she’d also been guaranteeing their impending torture.
“Agapi.”
My love. Revulsion sent a shudder down Cynna’s spine, but she swallowed hard and looked toward Zagreus, stalking toward her down the long, cold corridor. She wasn’t his love. Nor did she ever want to be.
“How is our prisoner?”
Her spine stiffened, and she met his dark gaze, knew not to back away from it. “He didn’t break, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
A wide, evil smile spread across Zagreus’s lips. “I wouldn’t want him to break too soon. Takes all the fun out of it, don’t you think?”
Cynna’s eyes narrowed. Since Zagreus had bound her gift in his lair, she couldn’t tell when he was lying or being truthful, and she hated that—hated how that crippled her—but something told her this time, he was being honest. He got a sick sort of pleasure putting her in shocking situations. And right now he knew she wanted to run, and he was loving every moment of her misery.
She lifted her chin, refusing to show even an ounce of weakness. “The same two tomorrow?”
His smile widened, and his hand slid around her nape and up into her hair, dragging her toward his dark, dangerous heat. She didn’t stiffen, didn’t react, didn’t flinch, because doing so would make whatever he had planned much, much worse.
“No, agapi. Tomorrow I think those two will be deliciously incapacitated. We’ll find another. But tonight, my dear, sweet Cynna…” He brushed her hair over her shoulder and lowered his mouth to her neck, then bit down. Pain resonated from the spot, but she didn’t dare move. “Tonight I want you to recreate for me what you watched in that cell. And when I’m convinced you were thorough enough in your observation, then I’ll give you what our nymphs are getting now.”
As if on cue, a scream ripped through the cavern.
Cynna’s eyelids dropped, and inside, though revulsion churned and pushed up her chest, she repeated the words that had gotten her through this and so much more.
Disassociate. Disappear. Cease to exist.
With him, she wasn’t a person, she was a thing. But she could endure being a thing for now, because the promise of revenge was worth this one small price.
Soon, very soon, this would be a memory, and the one who’d destroyed her life would pay.
Or so that was what she whispered to herself in the quiet of the night to hold back the dark part of her soul. The part she feared would soon consume her.
“Did you see their faces?” Orpheus chuckled as he and the queen of Argolea walked through the main doors of the castle and into the elaborate foyer. “Man, I really wish I’d had a camera. I thought Lord Timaeus’s jaw was going to hit the floor.”
“Mine nearly did when you had those servants sweep in with champagne to celebrate your induction,” Isadora mumbled, crossing the great Alpha seal in the glossy marble floor. “There is something called tradition you need to be aware of, Orpheus.”
“Tradition’s overrated.” He grinned as they headed up the curved staircase. “Man, this is gonna be fun.”