Screams echoed through the dungeon. I wasn’t sure where they had taken Lance Carmichael or exactly what they were doing, but it didn’t sound like he was having fun. Leaning back against the stone wall of my cell, I stretched out my legs before me and brushed some dirt off my riding pants.
Since there were no windows in Callan’s basement, I couldn’t tell for sure what time it was. But based on the number of meals I had received since that bastard had locked me in here, I would guess that it had been roughly a day and a half since we had arrived at his mansion. After Callan had informed me that he would let me live for now, he had removed my handcuffs and then locked me in the cell that was located as far from Lance as possible. But after that, I hadn’t seen him. He was probably busy thinking about how he was going to torture me.
I, on the other hand, was busy plotting my escape. And his death.
Sudden silence pressed against my eardrums as Lance at last stopped screaming. I heaved a sigh of relief because that annoying noise had made it difficult to think, and I needed all the brain capacity I had if I was going to scheme my way out of this precarious situation. What I needed more than anything was my magic, which meant that I had to somehow get my hands on Lance. And the key to his handcuffs. If I could just get my powers back, I should be able to kill my way out of this mansion. But to get the key, I would need—
Footsteps sounded outside my door. Sitting on the mattress by the back wall, I watched through the small barred window in the metal door as Henry and Lance walked past. Callan’s mountain of a guard looked stoic as usual, but the Binder was visibly exhausted. I really wondered what they were doing to him.
Metal clanked from the end of the row, informing me that Henry had locked Lance back in his cell. Then the footsteps started back up again. I listened to them, expecting them to continue past my door, as they always did. But not this time.
The lock clicked as Henry turned the key and then pulled open the door to my cell. I remained where I was.
Henry’s massive form filled the entire doorway as he took a step across the threshold. Flames from the torches on the walls created a backlight, making his tall and muscular body look even more imposing.
Tilting my head back, I met his gray eyes. “So… is it my turn now?”
“Yes,” he replied before twitching his fingers at me. “On your feet.”
Cold dread washed over me. I had thought that Callan would focus on torturing Lance into submission before he got started on me. A spike of panic shot up my spine. Maybe he had already broken Lance. Maybe that was why it was already my turn. If Callan had the Binder firmly under his control, there would be no way to challenge him, even if I managed to escape. Hell damn it all, I had thought that I would have more time.
Frantic plans swirled through my mind as I pushed to my feet and then moved closer to Henry. He took a step back out of the cell while raising his arm.
“If you put a hand on me, I will break every single one of your fingers,” I warned him as I followed him across the threshold.
He let out a huff of amusement, but made no move to grab my arm. Instead, he just closed the cell door behind me and then jerked his chin towards the stairs. “Let’s go.”
My heart pounded in my chest as I ascended the steps with Henry looming behind me. I remembered the layout, and if we were going upstairs into the actual mansion, I should be able to make a run for the door. It would be reckless and insane, but it was better than just walking willingly to my execution.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I placed a hand on the handle and pushed it down. Relief fluttered through me when I realized that it wasn’t locked. Darting through the small opening, I threw the door shut right in Henry’s face while sprinting in the direction of the main exit.
Angry curses echoed behind me, and a second later, the door banged open again. But I was already running.
Rounding the corner, I skidded into the next hallway.
And right into a wall of men with swords.
Alarm clanged through me, and I had to backpedal furiously to avoid crashing right into the sharp blades. While I was still trying to recover my balance, a large hand wrapped around my upper arm. It was followed by cold steel across my throat.
I glared at the guards who had blocked my way to the door while Henry hauled me away. They just smirked back at me.
Henry kept his knife against my throat and his hand around my arm as he led me towards the study I had seen when I was here last time. It struck me as a bit odd that Callan would pick that particular room to torture and kill people in. How was he supposed to keep the books on the shelves from being splattered with blood?
My musings were interrupted when Henry slammed me to a halt right outside the study. Removing his hand from my arm, he instead took my collar in a firm grip and yanked me closer to his face, forcing me to balance on my toes. The knife stayed at my throat, and when his gray eyes locked on mine, they were hard as granite.
“If you do anything to hurt him, you and I are gonna have some serious problems,” he warned in a voice that rumbled like thunder.
Raising my chin defiantly, I glared up at him. “Is that right?”
“Watch your mouth. And watch your fucking step because I will be tracking every move you make.”
Before I could retort, Henry shifted his grip to my arm again and dragged me across the threshold and into the study. My stomach lurched. By all hell, I really was out of time now.
A neat room filled with books, and furniture made of dark wood, appeared around me. Callan Blackwell was leaning against the smooth desk by the window. He had changed out of the mundane shirts and pants he had worn during our mission in Eldar, and was now once more wearing his dark leather armor. Half-sitting on the edge of the desk, he had his arms crossed over his muscular chest while also resting one ankle across the other. It was such a casual pose of absolute command that it made my heart skip a beat.
Golden light from the afternoon sun fell in through the windows and illuminated his face on one side. I tried to read the expression in his dark brown eyes, but they gave nothing away.
Callan held my gaze for a few seconds before letting it glide over the knife at my throat and Henry’s hand around my arm. As we came to a halt two steps inside the door, Callan raised his eyebrows in silent question.
“She tried to make a run for the front door,” Henry answered.
He snorted. “Of course she did.” Keeping his arms crossed, he jerked his chin at Henry. “Close the door on your way out.”
“Yes, boss.”
The sharp blade disappeared from my neck, as did the large hand around my arm. I suppressed the urge to rub the skin where the knife had been, and instead forced myself to just stand there while Henry disappeared out the door and closed it behind him.
It clicked shut with an ominous sound that seemed to echo into the study.
The room wasn’t overly large, but Callan and I were positioned almost as far away from each other as we could get. Though, as I studied him from across the dark wooden floor, I couldn’t help but feel as though his presence somehow filled the whole room. His power seemed to pulse through the air and press against my body from all sides.
This time, though, I wasn’t going to be the one speaking first. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he held all the power. So I said nothing.
Neither did Callan. His intense gaze bored into my very soul as he studied me. A few clouds drifted over the sun, casting the room in shadow for a while before the golden light returned. Outside the door, faint metallic clanking sounded.
“I have decided not to kill you,” Callan announced at last.
Surprise crackled through me. After all the awful things I had done to Callan over the years, I had been certain that there would be a painful and humiliating death waiting for me when he had finished playing with me. The realization that he was actually going to let me live, and not just temporarily, was still ricocheting through my brain so all I managed was, “Is that so?”
“Yes. I have come to the realization that letting you live as my prisoner will be a much worse fate for you.”
Hope sparkled inside me. He wasn’t going to kill me, which meant that my chance to escape and get my magic back was now within reach again. While keeping that hope firmly off my face, I replied, “I see.”
“I could also allow you to move out of the dungeon and into a real room inside the mansion.”
“Really? In exchange for what?”
That glittering flicker of hope swirled up inside me again, but it was quickly smothered by a wave of dread. If I was in a real room, my chances to escape would increase even more. However, if Callan was about to make me swear a blood oath in exchange for it, then my plan would be over before it even began. Dark mages broke agreements and treaties all the time. The only thing that was holy to us was a blood oath, and those were not made lightly.
The silence stretched on. Since I knew that he was doing it on purpose just to mess with me, I only continued staring at him from across the room. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Beg me for it,” he said at last.
I raised my eyebrows at him. “What?”
“If you want me to allow you to stay in a real room, then beg me for it.” That challenging smirk that had been lurking on his features slid fully onto his mouth. “You’re proud and fierce, and you hate begging, so that’s exactly what I’m going to make you do. You’re my prisoner now, so if you want something, you beg me for it.”
Relief flooded my chest. He wasn’t going to make me swear a blood oath. However, I couldn’t let him know that I was actually relieved by his demand, so I let out a dismissive huff and clicked my tongue.
“Unless you prefer the cell?” he pushed.
I narrowed my eyes at him and then blew out an irritated breath. “No.”
“Thought so.”
Another short silence fell. Power rolled off Callan’s body as he simply watched me from across the room. I glared back at him.
“I’m going to kill you one day,” I announced.
He huffed out a laugh and arched a dark eyebrow at me. “Without your magic? Good luck with that, sweetheart.”
“You just wait.”
“I am waiting. And I’m quickly running out of patience. You now have ten seconds to get over here and get down on your knees. So if you want that room, go ahead.” He cast a pointed look at the floor in front of his feet. “Grovel.”
Since I very much needed that room in order to have any sort of chance to succeed with my escape plan, I immediately started across the floor. Callan didn’t move. Only his eyes tracked me as I walked closer to him. When I reached the spot a single stride before his feet, I stopped and locked eyes with him.
“You have two seconds left,” he said.
Holding his gaze, I lowered myself to my knees.
“Good.” Still half-sitting on the edge of the desk with his arms crossed, he stared me down. “Now beg.”
A small tremor of dark desire coursed through me. Hell damn it all, why was I turned on by this? Blowing out a measured breath, I tried to shove those feelings aside.
“Please let me stay in a room,” I said.
“Surely you can do better than that,” he scoffed.
“Please, Callan, will you allow me to stay in a room?”
At last, he straightened from the desk. Uncrossing his arms, he leaned down and took my chin in a firm grip. His breath danced across my skin as he held my jaw steady while bringing his face closer to mine. When he spoke, his voice pulsed with command.
“I said, grovel.”
Heat flooded my core. I hated him so much, but by all hell, he was so fucking hot when he wielded power and control like that. And I did really need that room.
“Please, sir.” Something dark flickered in his eyes when I said that last word. “I’m begging you to allow me the privilege of staying in a room.”
For a few more seconds, he just kept me like that while his gaze seared into me. Then he relaxed his grip and drew his fingers softly along my jaw. A slow smile spread across his lips as he let out a dark laugh.
“Good girl.”
