Risk shimmered to solidity on Lusse’s plush carpet. Once he had pushed Kara away, he had given in to Lusse’s call. Ignoring her would only have made things worse. She or one of her minions might even have come looking for him, might have violated the only personal space allowed him, and worse, found Kara.
The thought startled him. He gripped the wool pile with curled fingers.
He couldn’t care about the little witch.
Even with the streak of humanity Lusse claimed he had, Risk didn’t care about anyone — not even himself. Yes, he wanted to be free of Lusse, but only to cause Lusse pain. To loll in the knowledge that she had lost what she valued most — power. Even if it was just the power to torment and torture him, it would gnaw at Lusse, and Risk would savor every gratifying moment.
No, he didn’t care about the witch, he told himself, relaxing his fingers. He was only concerned Lusse would find her before Risk tracked down her twin and convinced them to assist him. Until then, he had to protect her, that was all.
The hollow sound of Lusse’s horn landing on marble broke through his thoughts; then the pointed toe of Lusse’s diamond-encrusted shoe slid into view. “Ah, my favorite pet has arrived.”
Eyes focused on the white rug, Risk gritted his teeth at the term. As a child, he had made the mistake of letting Lusse know when something she said or did angered him. Not anymore. Better to endure in silence, pretend pleasure even, than give the sadistic witch the joy of seeing him suffer.
“What is that you’re wearing?” Her hand hovered over the flannel shirt on his back, the energy crackling from her hand signaling her displeasure. “Remove it.”
Steeling his mind to hide his annoyance, he leaned back on his heels and reached for the buttons. “A shirt,” he replied, forcing his lips into a false smile.
“I detest it. Remove it. Immediately.” She spun, the skirt of her silk dress slapping against her legs as she strode to her chair. Once seated, she waited, her fingers caressing the velvet armrests.
His chest now bare, the icy air of Lusse’s home assaulted Risk’s skin, causing a shiver he barely contained.
“Cold?” she asked, one brow arched.
“Never around you, Lusse,” he answered with indifference. Risk knew she would prefer a term more suiting her proprietary position, but it was a deference Risk had never afforded her. He didn’t intend to start now.
“So, pet, where have you been?” The question was casual, her tone almost a purr, but Risk knew better than to answer lightly.
“Serving you, as always.” He kept his gaze steady to hide his lie.
“Really? Have you?” She stood, pausing to pluck one of her toys, a gem-covered glove, from a table, then wandered past him to stand under the silver manacles that dangled from her ceiling.
“I must admit I wondered. Just a tad, you understand.” She brushed her foot along the marble tiles that covered the floor under the shackles, then shook her head. “My, Bader is slipping. He seems to have missed a spot.” Her shoe darted out to point at the bright red gleam of fresh blood on the white marble.
Risk cocked one brow in feigned interest.
“It took you so long, and with no word. I found myself bored.” With a whoosh of her arm, she appeared beside him. Grasping his chin until her long nails dug into his skin, she pulled his face up so he had no choice but to look at her. “You know what I do when I’m bored, don’t you?”
Risk stared evenly into her stormy-sea-colored eyes, not having to pretend the disinterest he felt. “Yes, Lusse, I do.”
“What, no contrition? No apology? No ‘I’ll do better, Lusse’?” Her thumb slipped over his lower lip, the pressure as slight as a butterfly landing on a petal. “I worry about you so, and you have nothing for me?” she whispered, tugging on one glove. “And, worst of all…” She pulled back her hand, stared at him for a second, her eyes gleaming, then in a streak of sparkling jewels, struck him across the face. “No witch.”
The diamonds sliced into Risk’s face; the pain of a thousand icicles piercing his skin soon followed.
How nice, Lusse had added a little extra treat to this particular toy of hers. Was this how she cured her boredom while he was gone, or were there more surprises in store?
Still on his knees, Risk maintained his pose, ignoring the numbness creeping across his face, and the blood swelling from the cuts.
“Have you failed me, alpha? Was all my attention and care over the past years for nothing?” She turned again, striding across the room. Her dress billowed in a cloud of purple silk as she lowered her body into her chair.
“Where is my witch?” she asked.
Risk stared ahead. Kara would do him little good if he were dead, but five hundred years of torture told him Lusse wouldn’t go that far, and if he was wrong…well, so be it.
“I don’t have her,” he replied.
“You did fail?” Her tone revealed disbelief.
“There were issues…” Blood from his wounds trickled into his mouth as he spoke. He swallowed the salty liquid.
“Hellhounds don’t have issues. Hellhounds do as they are told. Isn’t that right, Risk?”
“Of course.” Paralysis overtook the corner of his mouth, a blessing since it made it impossible to fulfill the urge to bare his teeth in a snarl.
“Do you know where you got your name, Risk?” she asked, her gloved fingers tapping the padded armrest.
“From you, Lusse,” he answered.
“Yes, that’s right, but do you know why I gave you such a name?”
“No, Lusse,” he mumbled, half his face now immobilized by her blow.
“When I bought you…your parents were quite happy to be rid of you, you know, one less mouth to feed and all that, plus the honor of being chosen by me, I barely paid them half your worth…” she chuckled as if exchanging warm childhood memories “…I picked you from your brothers and sisters because even as a boy you stood out. The others wanted to please, as much as any of your sort does anyway, but not you. No toy could tempt you and no threat could break you. I was intrigued, and I knew you had the potential to be unstoppable, if I could train you. It was a risk, but one I thought I could manage. And if I couldn’t, well, I’d be out a few gold coins and some time.”
The numbness in Risk’s face shifted and changed into a shooting coldness, like a frigid sword boring down the length of his spine. Tightening his shoulders, he withstood the torment.
“So, tell me. Did I name you well? Were you worth the risk?” Lusse clenched and unclenched her fist, watching as the light caught the gems on her glove and split into a million tiny rainbows.
“Of course, Lusse.” Risk’s words came out so garbled, even he couldn’t decipher them.
“So…” She looked up from the glove. “Where is she? Where is my witch?”
Whatever the magic in Lusse’s blow, it continued to grow, gathering speed as time progressed. Pain shot from Risk’s back to his thighs to his stomach, like an icy comet bouncing around inside him. Gritting his teeth, Risk blocked out the pain.
What to tell Lusse — too little and she would know he was lying. Too much and she might realize his plans.
“Safe,” he mumbled.
“Safe?” A flicker of interest lit Lusse’s eyes. “From what?”
“There was a—” Pain sliced through Risk’s head, cutting off his speech.
“There was a what?” Lusse demanded.
“A…” Risk sucked in air through his teeth, forcing his brain to overcome the glove’s magical poison and form the sentence. “Problem.”
“Yes, yes, a problem. What else?” Lusse lowered both brows. “Talk.”
Risk opened his mouth again, but this time only a guttural noise came out. Frosty wires wound around his lungs, slowly cutting off his oxygen. He locked his body into an upright position and waited for Lusse’s spell to weave its final net.
