But, now that the room had grown silent, one problem glared at us—besides being locked up with no explanation. The lights. Whoever installed them had a cruel sense of humor. The wattage was so high, we had to squint or close our eyes. Looking directly at them caused an instant headache. And the noise they gave off. A high-pitched whine, like a mosquito.
The sound was slowly getting to me. Two hours ago, I’d started chewing on my nails. Now there was nothing left to chew unless I wanted bloody skin. I contemplated doing that when a faint hiss filled the room. I jumped to my feet and strode to the door, relieved that someone was finally letting us out. What had happened out there?
But the door didn’t open.
As I stared holes into its steel hide, my eyelids drooped. Jolting upright, I snapped them open, but they quickly lowered again. Panic swamped my mind. Blood pounded in my ears. I raised bleary eyes, sweeping them over the room’s occupants, and my insides froze. All twenty-three men were sleeping. Some lay on their cots, some propped against the walls—a few were even bent in half, foreheads pressed to their knees.
A groan slid from my numb lips. Numb? Crap. I was going to pass out and I couldn’t reach my cot in time. I took a heavy step forward anyway, then another. And, as my eyes rolled upward, the glaring lights finally switched off.
—
Freezing water splashed my face.
I gasped instinctively, then coughed as the liquid speared down my throat. When I opened my eyes, they took several seconds to focus on my surroundings. The room was stark white and small, barely big enough for the cot I lay on. I flexed my arm muscles, straining to lift my hands, but they refused to cooperate.
A moment later I knew why: my arms, legs, and torso were strapped to the cot. Someone cleared their throat. I whipped my head to the left and there stood Mordecai, an empty glass in his hand and a gloating expression smeared across his face. “You were out longer than I anticipated. Thought you could use a refreshing wake-up call.”
At his sneer, my blood simmered and my mouth started flapping on autopilot. “Thanks, but maybe next time let’s try lemonade, just for fun.”
The scar on his cheek puckered. “I’ll consider, if . . .”
He let the sentence hang, and since I didn’t have anything better to do, I played along. “If what?”
“If you cooperate.” He set the glass down on a tray situated behind him. Other things lay on the tray too, but he moved, blocking my view.
I allowed the corners of my mouth to tip up before replying, “Well, from where I’m standing—Oh wait, I’m lying down, that’s right. From where I’m lying, strapped to a cot, I don’t seem to have much choice.”
His nostrils flared ever so slightly, like he was trying to stay calm but impatience was leaking through the holes in his body. “Your limbs might be tied down but your tongue is not. If the words out of your mouth prove to be useful, I might allow you to keep that foul thing when all this is said and done.”
I leaned upward an inch, the only wiggle room I had. “Maybe you should tell me what this is all about first.”
He paused, gaze roving my face, then reached behind him and picked up an object. Despite my best efforts to play it cool, my heart hammered wildly.
“All in good time, Tarik Hail. I’m in no rush.” At that, he held up the object, its silver length flashing brilliantly under the harsh fluorescent lighting. My heart almost gave out then. A scalpel. The devil was holding a scalpel. He gingerly touched the blade’s sharp tip, saying casually, “Why, are you? Is there a certain someone you wish to see?”
I sealed my mouth shut. When I did, his blue eyes glittered. “That’s what I thought. But there’s a price for your silence.” He lunged forward and grasped the hem of my shirt. With one long stroke, the wicked blade cleaved the linen in two. Peering down at my exposed chest, he tutted. “So many scars. The stories they could tell . . .”
An uncontrollable tremor shook my body as he continued to inspect my skin, like I was a slab of prime meat. I half-expected him to poke me, see how juicy tender I was. Through clenched teeth, I snarled, “I’m glad you’re enjoying the view. I didn’t think you swung that direction.”
His eyebrows raised. “Funny you should mention that.”
He grabbed the waistband of my pants and got to work cutting the material from my body. My chest heaved as I struggled to inhale air, scared witless that I was about to be castrated. I mean, he was evil, but was he that evil?
When he was done, leaving me naked and vulnerable before him, he carefully returned the scalpel to the tray. “Now that I’ve taken your pompous Fae dignity, maybe your tongue is feeling a little . . . freer? What do you say, Tarik?” He crossed meaty arms over his chest, clearly pleased with his handiwork.
Shame washed over me as the room’s stale air fanned my exposed flesh, but something else washed over me, too. Something far stronger. Determination. This madman would not break me no matter what he had on that tray, no matter how much pain he inflicted on my body, because one thing was crystal clear in my mind.
If I broke, Reagan would pay the price.
Didn’t mean I couldn’t take Mordecai on a joy ride, though. I licked my lips. “I’m feeling free all right. Free as a bird. But since I plan on telling you everything I know, why don’t you start off this little love fest with an explanation? Because this wasn’t in the job description.”
He considered me, humiliated me by raking his gaze down my body, then up again. “You know what’s pathetic about
