Scarred(Never After #2)(56)

“Oh no,” I tsk, twirling the hammer around in my hand. “Don’t tell me you’re about to lose consciousness. We’re just about to get to the fun part.”

Smiling, I stop when I’m next to his head, bending and smacking him again, irritation squeezing my center at the fact he thinks he can pass out, and not experience every single iota of pain that I’m going to cause him.

His eyes snap open and once again, he tries to jerk upright.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” I walk around his body and crouch down to hover above his kneecaps, one leg on either side of his body. “Do you know why you’re here with me, Claudius?”

“Because you’re insane?” He lifts his head and spits at my feet. “I am the Baron of Sulta, and your brother’s friend. You cannot do this and get away with it,” he forces out.

“Oooh.” I grin. “I’m shaking in fear.”

“You’re unhinged!” he screeches.

“So they say.” My smile drops and I lift the hammer. “But I am also your prince, and I do as I please.”

I bring the mallet down, his loud scream piercing through the air, drowning out the sound of his kneecap shattering.

“Yeah.” I scrunch my nose, satisfaction collecting in the base of my spine and trickling outward. “I bet that hurt.”

Sighing, I allow the sharp edge on the back of the hammer to skim across the top of his intact bones. “You’re here because you touched something that wasn’t meant for you.”

“You’re insane.”

Lifting the hammer, I use it to scratch the corner of my forehead. “Speaking of my mental health, I cannot stand leaving things uneven.”

His head droops to the side.

“It drives me mad.” I rest the blunt edge of the metal against his knee. “Makes me itch. Are you ever like that?”

His screams are even more delicious with the second blow, tears running down his face and mixing with his snot, every piece of the man he was draining away as he suffocates in his pain.

I throw the hammer to the side, leaning forward and running my fingertip along the gash in his throat; the one left behind by Sara, pride shooting through my chest like fireworks.

Standing up, I walk around his mangled legs until I’m by his head and grip him by the shoulders. His screams turn to whimpers as I drag him across the floor to the back of the cabin where two large pieces of wood are affixed to the wall.

A cross, with leather cuffs attached to the bottom piece and both of the sides.

Grunting as I hoist up Claudius’s limp frame, I push him against the beams, leaning my body weight into his to hold him in place as I grab one of his arms and lock him inside the leather restraint.

He sucks in a breath, blood trickling down his forehead. “Tristan,” he whispers, hiccuping around his words. “Please.”

I smile at his pleading, working on attaching his other wrist. “Do you not want to play anymore?”

“No,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

I squat down, wrenching his legs together, causing him to scream out again as I bind his ankles to the bottom of the cross.

Standing back up, I look him in the eyes, revulsion bleeding from my gaze. “I didn’t want you to play with Lady Beatreaux either. Yet here we are, with you having done it.”

“I don’t—”

“Shhh.” I press my fingers against his mouth. “No more speaking, or I’ll chop off your cock and make you choke on it.”

I step back, looking over my handiwork, ensuring that he’s bound tightly. “I have to admit, I prefer fire.” Moving across the small room to the cupboards, I rummage around the shelves until I find a carving knife, holding it in front of my face to inspect the sharp edge. “But the punishment must fit the crime.”

“I’ve committed no crime,” he rasps, his voice weak and pathetic.

“You’ve touched something that isn’t yours to touch. In fact, I’ve recently concluded that she’s mine to touch.” Making my way back toward him, I skim the blade up his arm until I reach the forefinger of his left hand. “So, the fact you know what her skin feels like? Well… that’s unacceptable to me.”

I press the curved part of the knife into the tip of his finger, and drag it down the underside, feeling his flesh peel away from his bone like the skin of an apple. He screams, his body thrashing against the tight leather bindings.

“Does it hurt already?” I ask, tilting my head. Once the thin sliver is to his palm, I tear it from his hand, dangling it in front of his face. “Rather ghastly looking, isn’t it?”

Claudius’s body shakes so hard, the wood of the cross trembles.

“One down, nine to go!” I drop my voice. “You know… this is so much fun. Reminds me of when we were kids… when you’d help my brother as he beat me black and blue.”

Rage curdles my stomach and billows through my chest, and I drop the piece of skin, moving even closer to his arm.

“Please, God,” he cries.

Chuckling, I grip his second finger. “I’m your god now. And I don’t hear your pleas.”





CHAPTER 32





Sara B.