Fate and Destiny (The Fated Series, #2)

Chapter 89 - Fauna - The New Moon

It's cold. I can feel my whole body shivering to try and keep me warm.

No...

I'm not cold. I'm in pain. My body is shaking in pain. Lots of it. Everywhere. In my muscles, my bones. Radiating through every inch of me readying to tear me apart.

I try to move but can't. My arms are being held in opposite directions, holding my body weight while my feet dangle off of the ground. I try to speak but my voice is gone. I try to open my eyes but they're too heavy, exhausted from the pain. Tears roll out of them though, running down my cheeks and falling to the ground.

"She's awake."

Will. It's Will - he can help, he can -

"Is it our turn to play yet?"

My whole body stops its shaking at the sound of that voice.

That's impossible. She's dead - I killed her. How -

"I thought we were playing," another taunts.

I killed him two. I killed both of them, and I dug up their bodies to prove it.

Eleanor and Charles. How are they alive? How are they here? How am I here?

Where is here?

"Enough."

The whole room goes into instant silence at his voice. The voice. The one that runs in my mind and pulls at the memories I try to hang onto. The one that belongs to red eyes and cold hands. Hands that have my body shaking again in fear.

I never used to fear. I would smirk right back at it and cut off its head.

Now it rules me. He rules me.

I hear his footsteps. Hear Will's retreat and him replace where Will was standing right in front of me. This time I keep my eyes closed, no longer fighting their heaviness to look around the room and find someone who will grant me mercy.

I focus on the room when his hand lifts to lay against my stomach.

It smells the same. Full of the scent of my vomit and shit that they rarely bother to clean. You'd think they themselves would tire of the smell and clean it every other day at the least, but they never seemed bothered.

His finger draws a horizontal line at the base of my torso, running back until it's at my center and he lays his hand flat against the skin there.

I don't like this room, but I like the cold ground. It's the most comforting thing in here. Even the torches are less warming.

"You are going to be my greatest weapon," he whispers. The tear of it drags claws along my back and heats the feel of the chains against my wrists. They've taken the ones on my ankles off now that I'm too weak to fight against them or kick them where it hurts. I try to do so now, but I don't do more than twitch.

I forgo movement and focus on my voice, gathering the tiniest bit just enough to respond. "I will never be yours."

"What makes you think that I was talking to you?" His finger runs in a circle this time, his nail taunting me despite its sharp, feather touch.

My gut pools in cool dread, and I feel it. The one he was really talking to.

His hand moves upward and finds my chin, lifting the weight of my head with ease despite the ache of my neck. His nail digs into my skin, harder and harder until I obey his silent command and open my eyes to meet his. I'll never forget the darkness of his eyes and that bright red that threatens to consume your every thought.

"Lovely as it is to see your eyes..." His other hand raises, the other shifting to lay against the side of my head.

I want to cry. I want to beg and plea and cry until he lowers his hands and grants me sleep, but I won't. I won't because I am not weak. I don't beg and I don't plea and I especially don't cry.