Blood Secret (28 page)
“Did he tell you what dragons did to his family?” the prince asked.
“Yes,” she began, but he spoke over her, hissing, “Each one was destroyed. He lost his mother, his father, his younger brother, two of his sisters. Only he survived. Along with one sister, who was the mother of his beloved James. She was driven to such madness she took her own life.”
Tears welled as she thought of how much it must have hurt Sinjin to lose her, and in such a way. It must have made him feel so helpless. No wonder James had been so wounded by grief. He had lost his father, and his mother had not been willing to live for him.
“You can guess at the torment he must feel—caring for you and hating you,” the prince went on, like a serpent hissing and spitting venom. “Each time he is with you, he must remember how it felt to be pursued by a dragon. He told me everything. How monstrous and terrifying the dragons looked. How he saw his younger brother be caught and killed.”
His words fell on her like blows. What was truly in Sinjin’s heart every time he was with her? Was it pain? Did he think of all he had lost when he saw her? He had kissed her and made love to her, he had told her he adored her, but was it the truth? Was he being honest about what he truly felt? The prince’s words were what she feared—that she would constantly remind Sinjin of all he had lost.
“His mother begged for the lives of her children. She sobbed and pleaded, but she was killed anyway. His father tried to fight to protect Sinjin and his brother and sisters, but a dragon slashed his heart out with one swipe of claw. That is what you will remind him of. Always.”
The prince shouted out a curt word. She did not understand it—it was not English—but it was obviously a command as the door flew open at once.
After the brothel, she thought she could not be shocked. She was wrong. This was not like the lighthearted, playful dancing that had led to the orgy in the brothel’s ballroom. Darkness permeated the room, despite all the burning lamps. The room was hot, steamy, and smelled of sweat. The glow was golden but it was not a warm, welcoming, mellow gleam—it was the type of garish coloring that should be cast by the fires of hell.
The room was dark, paneled with black wood, filled with settees and chaises covered in black silk. Women were everywhere in the room. Naked women. But all the ones Lucy could see were bound. Their hands tied at the wrists, their legs tied at the ankles. Some were balanced on their forearms and knees with their bottoms in the air. Others were tied to chaises. Some were standing upright, but their bonds were hooked to eyelets that hung from the ceiling. There were men, of course. Fully dressed or half-naked, the men smacked the women’s bottoms with whips, or they held flat, round paddles and used those to spank the fleshy, jiggling rumps.
Squeals, throaty moans, and sobbing, agonized groans filled the room.
Then she glimpsed the faces of some of the men. Recoiling, she tried to step back, but the prince’s hand was at her back, forcing her to stay put.
They looked ... driven by something wild and awful. They barely looked human. Their eyes were bright and filled with lust. Their faces were distorted, their mouths open, demonic grins twisting their lips. They were panting as they delivered blow after blow to the women.
They looked like monsters. Like she imagined vampires would be—treating humans like insignificant prey. Something to consume, destroy, throw away.
Sinjin was not like this.
He could
never
have been like this. Could he?
never
have been like this. Could he?
“Yes, Sinjin has been here.” The prince wore a leering grin. “He is notorious for his skill with a whip. Shall I ask some of the women to describe the things he has done?”
“N-no.” Then Lucy cringed at the quake in her tone. He would know how devastated she was.
But Sinjin would not do this
now.
Perhaps he was like one of these slayers before, but he had changed now. She was certain of it.
now.
Perhaps he was like one of these slayers before, but he had changed now. She was certain of it.
Yet her heart still felt heavy. It felt as though it was turning to ice. How could he ever have done this? How could he believe that hurting others would make up for losing his family?
“Would you care to join them?” the prince asked, his tone insolent and goading.
She drew herself up, and coldly informed him, “If you are planning to whip me, I would suggest you do not try. If you do, I will hurt you.”
His laugh boomed out. “There is nothing, sweet nymph, you can do. I think it is time to show you what dragon slayers are truly like.”
The prince whistled and footmen sprang forward. Two grasped her by her arms and dragged her across the floor. They wound through the various scenes of domination, and as they passed, the male dragon slayers stopped their work and stared at her.
Several left their bound partners and followed.
Heavens, no. She twisted in the confining grip of the two young, strong footmen. The prince was behind her, smiling and ... and humming a melancholy tune that sounded like a dirge, though he looked incredibly pleased. Six men trotted behind him. Two were dressed in gentlemanly attire, two were wearing the rough-looking clothes of tradesmen, and two wore nothing but their trousers and boots.
All looked large, strong, intimidating. Four carried whips. The two bare-chested ones had riding crops.
God, no.
If only she could get this thing off her neck. For she could guess what was going to happen. She was going to be tied up and whipped and struck. Perhaps raped also. The prince obviously wanted to torture, abuse, debase her so much she would pray for death. The odds were that she would not survive the night.
If only she could get the collar off. But the prince had bound her hands together at her wrists. He had done a thorough job of tying them up. She’d wriggled and struggled, but couldn’t loosen the rope.
The footmen pushed her into a second room, a smaller one. A fire burned in here, along with lamps, but it was empty. A smooth black wall, one covered in a stone that shone like obsidian, ran the length of the room. She was pushed to it. Then the footmen took gold chains from the wall and secured them to her collar. It was so close to her, she could not see how the chains attached.
The servants left her. Footsteps approached. A male chuckle fell over her—was it the prince? She didn’t know, but hands grasped the belt of her robe and tore it in two. It fell away, her robe fell open, then it was whisked off her. Even though her hands were bound, the robe came off. With a loud rending sound, it tore at the seams, then fell to a warm puddle at her feet.
Behind her, men drank in sharp, appreciative breaths. One let out a low whistle. Again, footsteps approached her. Something tapped her bottom lightly, something hard. It made her fleshy cheeks jiggle.
“Voluptuous, and lovely. Unwilling, I take it?” The voice was hoarse, gravelly, and one she did not recognize.
“This one is a dragon. A strong and very beautiful dragon.”
Murmurs fell over the men behind her. Her cheeks burned with humiliation, her heart thudded with fear. There had to be a way to get at the collar, but her hands were tied behind her back.
“Step aside, Roberts. I will be the one to begin. I want the first strike.”
A boot landed heavily on the floor, something whistled through the air, then snapped against her high back, above her hands. Stinging pain lanced her. She screamed. God, dear God, she had never known anything like this.
“Too hard,” another man shouted. “We want her to last.”
“Just a few to soften her up. To get her blood running.”
The lash of the whip had been unbelievably strong... . It wouldn’t take long before it would cleave her flesh open. It was strong enough to—was it strong enough to break through metal? Even a magical type of metal?
She heard the whistle and she dropped at the last instant, tugging the gold chains to their limits. The lash smacked against the collar around her neck. It slammed the metal against her flesh then she heard a slight crack. The collar sprang open and dropped free.
“What the bloody hell—?” shouted the prince, his voice an enraged bark.
The instant she felt the collar give, Lucy summoned the change. Her body wriggled, stretched, heated to burning, and transformed, all in a heartbeat of time. Larger and larger she grew, her dragon’s body filling the small room. Her arms broke the bonds and were free as they changed. The dragon slayers were armed with only whips and crops, and they lashed her with harsh, wild strokes, but the devices made no impact on her shimmering scales. They were trying to beat her, trying to wound her.
She craned her head and blew a breath of fire at them. Two of the men were in the path of the flames and they stumbled back. Fire licked at the furnishings, and a chair seat caught. The men ignored it—two ran for the door, shouting for weapons.
She swung her tail, hoping to knock them down. She caught one, but the other escaped. Then she lashed her tail to and fro as the remaining men whipped her mercilessly.
She charged for the window. If she could break through it, she could fly to freedom. Behind her, something released with a twang. She lunged forward, but not fast enough. An arrow drove into the back of her dragon leg.
Another arrow shot, and she snapped her wings to avoid it. The wound slowed her and the pain hammered in her brain. Lucy fought toward the window, but more arrows came—a volley of them. Some bounced off her scales. One ripped through her wings again. Another hit her arm.
She was slowing. There was something about these arrows. Some kind of magic or potion or poison. Her muscles were seizing.
The window was only yards away. She flung herself forward, but a huge black shape appeared in the window. It was the black dragon, with James held in his claws. His huge wings beat as he hovered in front of the window. Then he rushed forward, and broke the window with one of his wings, smashing all the glass out, so it fell like raindrops. Through the opening, he flew with James, landing in the room. In an instant, he transformed back into the shape of a man.
A silvery-green dragon followed and she recognized him even before he changed.
It was Jack.
In dragon form, her brother advanced on her, snapping at her with his jowls. He forced her to retreat against the wall. The black dragon, still in human form, stood there, holding James. The man was naked, but still exuded arrogance and control.
The dragon slayers rushed forward, swords raised.
Jack roared in the language of dragons:
Change, Lucy. Change back. It’s your only hope to survive
.
Change, Lucy. Change back. It’s your only hope to survive
.
She wanted to roar at him. Shout
no
at him. But the poison was flooding through her. Against her will, her body began to shift back into human form. Her muscles jerked and trembled. The floor tipped and wobbled beneath her feet. She lost her balance and the floor flew up to meet her.
no
at him. But the poison was flooding through her. Against her will, her body began to shift back into human form. Her muscles jerked and trembled. The floor tipped and wobbled beneath her feet. She lost her balance and the floor flew up to meet her.
A thunderous crash exploded behind her and a male voice roared, “Touch her and you will bloody well die.”
She knew that fury-tinged bellow. Knew the deep, beautiful baritone that had barked those words, and did it with such mad fury, he had frozen everyone in place.
She tried to move, but her limbs were numb and cold. All she could do was flop over.
“Who did this?” The man shouting this was the prince. He loomed over her, his eyes burning with such anger they were red. “Who poisoned her?”
Her eyes were blurry, but she could see him whip around, screaming the question at his slayers. No one answered. Then suddenly, the prince was jerked off his feet and thrown across the room. Sinjin dropped to his knees beside her. Half a dozen swords immediately pointed at him. The dragon slayers closed in on him, standing only inches away. So close that if Sinjin moved, the lethal points would stab him.
He bent over her, apparently not caring about the fact that six men were prepared to kill him. “Drink this, Lucy,” he murmured near her ear. Suddenly he pressed his wrist to her lips. She tasted his metallic, slippery blood. She tried to pull back, but then the blood flooded her mouth and some impulse drew her to suckle. To drink.
“Let me save her.” She heard Sinjin speak the words, saw he was imploring the prince, her brother, and the other dragon to leave him while he gave her blood.
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