Promises of a Deadly Bind {Sequel to Games of a Different Kind}

Chapter 11

Danielle's POV

It had been three days of waiting. Three days of no food, no water and no contact with the demons who were deciding my fate. Deciding what to do with me.

Tyros and I sat side by side, the only space between us the bars that refused to quiver no matter how hard I struck at them. A coldness had stolen inside of me and a silence had settled over the cells. Every so often, a growl or animalistic hiss would penetrate the air. Lancerin's words still drifted around my mind and the demon prowled around the edges of my mind though he had gone long ago. 

"Get up." A voice coiled lashed out at us like a whip, lacerating my ears. My head snapped upwards, taking in Quintin. He rapped against the bars hard enough so that they shook: something I had been unable to do in my many endeavours. Quintin waved his hand sharply and the cell doors slammed open.

I uneasily got to my feet, the long hours making me unbalanced. I teetered uncertainly and collapsed into the wall, my hand grappling against the rough brick. My throat was dry and when I swallowed, it hurt like I was trying to eat razor-blades. Quintin sniggered as I tried to regain my balance, one hand clamped onto the wall for support.

My body was shaking like a leaf. I was too tired to even be humiliated, my sleep having been scattered and infrequent. There was suddenly a cool hand supporting me and I flinched away, thinking it was Quintin breaching the distance to mock me closer.

As I jerked back, Lancerin slid his hand around my waist, obviously aware the swift action wasn't doing marvels for my equilibrium. His grasp was firm but not too tight, knowing how to hold me without hurting: something Raxis was never able to accomplish.

Too close, a voice whispered inside of me. A warning. But somehow I was too exhausted to care that a demon was in very near proximity, his breath like a breeze on my cheek. I acceded, my body surrendering, as I walked slowly out of the cell, gaining a little strength with each step.

"Weakness seems to be a sad state of mind for you, Danielle," Quintin sniggered. He yelped as Tyros shouldered him, pushing him backfirst into the wall. The former demon snarled back, baring teeth.

"Must have slipped," Tyros apologised with a little smile. Though he didn't show it nearly as much as me, the demon was tired as well. The blue glowing cage enveloping his hands - and therefore his powers - sapped his strength every second it imprisoned him. 

"Slip again," Quintin promised him, though the threat seemed empty coming from him. "and I'll slit your throat. That'll stop you speaking for a few hours."

My attention was diverted from the two swiftly as I slipped, my legs buckling beneath me. Lancerin's hold prevented me from completely falling, his grasp pulling tight. Without a sound, he lithely set me to standing soon enough, his hands moving around my waist to accomodate me.

As he pulled me, my shirt shifted so that his fingers splayed across skin. My body went rigid and as soon as I was properly vertical, I broke his hold, one hand on the wall balancing me well enough. His gaze lingered on me though I refused to answer it, only feeling the burn of it like the feeling of his fingers on my skin. 

"What's with the visit, Quintin?" I asked him, unwilling to look at Lancerin. My voice was cracked and thin and it almost trembled with the effort of words. "We've been left alone for three days now."

"Yes, it was almost like a little holiday," Tyros chimed in slickly. "Until, of course, you decided to crash the party, Quintin. Your greeting naturally signalled the end of our celebrations."

"You're wanted by the Gathering for your sentencing," Lancerin answered, cutting in before Quintin could shoot back some smarmy response. I turned reluctantly, facing the young demon. Lancerin's hair was a dark brown today and his features were the same: soft and sharp. Features that could slice you to pieces but eyes that could soothe away the pain.