Echoed Lullabies (Lunar Chronicles x Reader)

Chapter 75

TW: Torture

As Aimery walked, he thought of the way he'd thrown the cyborg into the cell yesterday. He always hated going down into the dungeons. The regolith dust was overwhelming. It was disgusting, filthy.

Not as repulsive as the people there, though. Prisoners were dirty. Revolting. They were slimy pathetic things, always reaching through the bars and blubbering apologies and pleas for freedom.

Aimery shuddered, turning his thoughts elsewhere. At least now the cyborg had been captured. Her Majesty was so very pleased. Now they had three from the terrorist's crew taken into custody.

His mind drifted to the girl locked in his quarters, and his heart rate sped up. It seemed as though he had finally broken her. He'd finally driven cracks into the cold, strong-willed appearance she had tried so very hard to keep together. And the way she had begged for him? It made him nearly weak at the knees. What he wouldn't give to hear that again.

And soon, I shall, he thought, as he opened the door to his room.

She was still in a heap on the floor. His nose scrunched. She was probably bleeding all over the carpet. Shame. The girl was out cold, which made it that much easier to lift her into a chair and bound her hands behind her back.

Now that the cyborg was their prisoner, there was no need for the commander, but that thought had never occurred to Aimery. He still relished in the fact that she was here, a slave to his power. One that he could torment however he'd like.

Aimery glanced at the tools lined up on the desk beside the fireplace—blades, needles, whips. Anything he might possibly need to make her scream.

When his gaze returned to the girl, he was met with her empty (e/c) eyes.

He grinned. "Hello."

She continued to stare.

"And how are we feeling at this time?"

No answer.

Aimery cocked his head. "Not one for conversation anymore, hm? We can change that."

He picked up a knife from the table and stood before her. Now, he could have used his abilities, but that would have been a kindness. The pain would disappear the minute he stopped manipulating her. No, he wanted this to hurt.

What an intimate thing it was to be someone's tormenter. To be the reason someone screamed or cried. To make someone beg, knowing that the alleviation of pain was out of their hands. That they were relying solely on the tormenter to make everything stop.

Aimery nudged the girl's head to the side. The muscle in her jaw jumped. "Say something, sweetheart. Just a little 'hello' for me."

She remained silent.

The way she flinched did not go unnoticed as he dragged the blade across her cheekbone. Blood beaded on her skin, then raced along the curve of her face.

"You can say anything you'd like. One word, even, and I won't continue."

The crackling of the fire was the only sound that filled the room.

Aimery raised an eyebrow. "Very well. Perhaps, since you've shown your dislike for me so much over the time we've shared together, you'd like someone else to go through with this."

When he threw up the glamor of the space captain, the girl slammed her eyes shut. She was taken with him—it was so blindingly obvious based on her reaction from the very first time he wore his face. Putting on the captain's features added something...extra. How delightful it would be to have her beloved torture her instead of Aimery. He wanted to sear himself into her memory; every time she'd even think about the captain, visions of him tormenting her would resurface.

"Come now, why won't you look at me?" Aimery lightly wrapped his hand around her throat and leaned forward so his lips touched her ear. "This is what you want, isn't it? For your Captain to be here with you?"

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter.

He retracted. "Fine."

She inhaled sharply when he tangled a hand in her hair and wrenched her head back. "Maybe I should cut out your tongue, since you don't feel like talking. Then you won't have any other choice but to remain quiet."

When Aimery rested the edge of the blade on her tongue, she froze. Chills exploded across his neck when he realized she was trembling. Her panic made him weak. He wanted more.

He caressed her chin. "But I won't." He withdrew the knife from her mouth, but drew the blade from the bottom of her bottom lip down to the tip of her chin. A straight line of crimson appeared. "I'm not that cruel."

He touched his thumb to the cut, smothering his skin in crimson. Then he placed his thumb in his mouth. The taste of metal made him feel high.

She gasped when he swiped the knife across her jaw, then her collarbone, then her shoulders. He palmed the wounds until his entire hand was covered in her blood.

Then he placed the hand on her cheek. His pupils dilated when she felt him shudder under his touch. Tears welled in her eyes. When he retracted his palm, a bloody handprint was left on her skin.

Then he slapped her.

She cried out in surprise, her head snapping to the side. Aimery delivered blow after blow—each one sure to bruise up nicely. Some even broke the skin. After the first one, though, she was sure to muffle the sounds that escaped her—those consisting of only small grunts.

It was rather annoying.

After her face was littered in angry red marks, Aimery crossed the room to the fireplace. "I am rather hurt, you know. You haven't said a word throughout this entire visit. It's quite rude not to thank a host for his hospitality."

His fingers wrapped around the handle of the poker and he extracted it from the fire. The tip was white-hot from being left in the flames.

She struggled against her bindings as he approached and wrenched down the collar of her shirt.

Because of the glamour, it was Thorne's ice-blue eyes that gleamed wickedly. "Perhaps this will help you feel a little more grateful."

A scream split the silence as he pressed the metal into the skin below her collarbone. She writhed against the chair, and tears poured down her cheeks, all the while he was digging the hot poker into her deeper, deeper, deeper.

"Please!"

He paused. Lifted the poker away. Locked eyes with her.

"What was that?"

She swallowed. Her eyes welled even further. "P-please stop."

Aimery smiled widely. "Good girl. But I'm afraid my offer has expired. You see, you need to learn to listen the first time I ask you for something."

Her eyes widened.

He touched the poker to her again, and she cried out. The smell of burning flesh filled the room. As he worked, sobs and pleas and apologies fell from her lips. It was intoxicating.

When Aimery was finished, he regarded his masterpiece in front of him.

There, seared into the flesh beneath her neck, was a large red "A."

His eyes devoured her. "You look stunning like this."

He couldn't wait for what else he had planned for her.