The Fall (The Lycans 7) - Page 14

I could hear the sound of raised voices and glanced at the large window across from where I was chained up. I curled my hands tightly into fists, my nails cutting into my palms.

The restraints that kept my arms bound at my sides and tethered to the wall made it impossible to move.

My back burned, my skin felt tight, and as I watched the humans on the other side of that window start to take their seats, I felt rising nausea claim me.

Their gazes were locked on me, their grins wide from ear to ear, their eyes alight with horrendous sadistic anticipation.

“V,” the guard addressed the human who’d been touching me just moments before. “Take it down and bring it over here.”

I was nothing but an object to them, not even seen as a living creature.

The one named V came toward me, and I could see he tried not to look at me with anything but indifference or even disgust.

He undid the chains from the wall and yanked me toward him so forcefully I lost my balance and stumbled forward.

There was a round of loud laughter from behind the window as the gawking humans took in my unsteadiness.

I fell against the exam table, the manacles around my wrists clanging against the metal. I could see the waviness of the magic surrounding them, and when I lifted my arms to right myself, my limbs felt like lead, full and heavy as if they weren’t really mine but just extensions of the chains that kept me bound.

The guard grinned at me, and the flash of his white teeth was anything but pleasant. He pulled out a couple of instruments. It was then I noticed an elaborate table with red velvet covering it pressed up against the wall, clearly visible to the spectators.

First, he pulled out a saw, then a machete. He took out a pair of pliers, some garden shears, and finally a dagger. He laid them all out across the velvet cloth, and I could see the human spectators rising up slightly so that they could look at each tool.

Fear was a very real friend inside of me, heavy and suffocating enough that I felt my bravado falter.

The guard who’d brought the bag into the exam room went over to a panel on the wall, pressing a button as he glanced at the spectators.

“Client 523A. You were the highest bidder and get to decide which tool is implemented for this session.”

I could hear the murmurs of the humans on the other side of the glass a second before one of the pressed suit–wearing males got up and disappeared from view.

A moment later he stepped through the doorway and walked into the room, his gaze sliding over me. He had this disturbingly intense gleam in his eye.

Then he turned his focus to the table with the tools and walked over to them, running his fingers along each one. He picked up the dagger first, holding it in his hand before setting it down and going for the saw.

I felt dizzy, like I was going to throw up. I tightened my hands around the exam table. It was the only thing keeping me steady as my knees locked and the breath stalled in my lungs.

He handed the saw to the guard. “No drugs. I want it to really scream from the pain.” The Suit gave me one more smirk before taking his place back on the other side of the window.

The blood left my brain and settled in the soles of my feet as I swayed.

“Put it on the table.”

V grabbed my arm, but I jerked it away, survival instinct rising up in me. I struggled, then backed away, but was yanked toward him again. The other guard grabbed a chunk of hair behind my head and pulled me forward and across the table so I was facedown on it.

My arms were thrust above my head, the manacles secured to a lock, my legs spread, and restraints placed over my ankles.

I felt the icy touch of a blade skating down my spine as the ratty shift I wore was cut off me. The sound of fabric rendering was ominous as it filled the room.

Warm breath skated across the shell of my ear as V whispered, “You’re not gonna be a pretty little thing for me and let me hear you beg?”

I gritted my teeth, turned my head so I could look into his eyes, and said, “Fuck. You.”

The pain took over…

I jolted upright, a cry torn from my throat. Or at least I thought I screamed. I could hear it echoing in my head, felt hot tears track down my cheeks.

I closed my eyes and wiped the tears away, my body achy and sweaty, my mind at war with what was real and what was just a horrible memory.

Tags: Jenika Snow The Lycans Erotic
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