Passion Untamed (Feral Warriors #3)(27)

Skye blanched. All Mage were implanted with the braided copper circle upon maturity. The cantric acted as a magic focuser and accelerator. Usually it was implanted deep in the flesh of the bu**ocks, where it wouldn't be seen except by another Mage. But hers wasn't in her bu**ocks.

"You can't," she said quietly.

"The hell we can't." Lyon turned on her with eyes filled with such venom she reared back, right into Paenther. His arm went around her middle, pulling her tight against his chest.

A deep, lion's growl erupted from Lyon's throat. "You're ours now, witch, and we'll do whatever we damn please. The death of one Mage won't upset the balance of the natural world." Lyon lifted that hard gaze to Paenther. "Lock her up. I'll call you and Jag when the women get here. As soon as you're cleared, we'll meet in the war room."

Paenther released her, took her arm again, and pulled her down the hall to a doorway, then down a long, long flight of stairs.

"Paenther." She swallowed hard. "I'm not your enemy. If I were, I wouldn't have helped you escape."

His hand tightened around her upper arm. "I don't want to hear it." His voice was like ice.

"I hate Birik as much as you do. More! I hate him more."

He jerked her, making her lose her balance, but his too-tight grip kept her from falling. "Silence."

With a mounting feeling of dread, she did as he commanded. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he led her down a long passage lit by electric sconces hung on the walls. They walked past a dark room before Paenther led her into a large, well-lit room with ultramodern workout equipment at one end.

She wondered if they'd rigged up the exercise machinery to turn this into some kind of torture chamber, but Paenther never slowed as he pulled her through the large room until he reached a glass wall at the far end. Set into the glass was a door.

Paenther pushed her through into a long, narrow passage that appeared to have been cut out of the rock. The stone was cold beneath her feet. Finally, the passage opened to a wide, rustic prison block, each cell separated from the next by thick stone walls.

Her stomach cramped at the realization that this was to be her fate. For how long? Would she ever again see the light of day?

So many times, Birik had imprisoned her. But she'd always known all she had to do to be set free was cooperate. The power to free herself had always, ultimately, been in her hands.

This time, nothing was in her hands. Her breath caught on a hard lump of fear. Revenge, he'd said. She was used to pain. But taking the abuse from this man, who she knew possessed kindness, threatened to break her. Her body began to tremble.

Paenther pulled her to a halt in front of one of the cells and opened it. "Leave us," he said to the two men who'd followed them down.

"No can do, Hiawatha," Jag drawled.

Paenther glared at him. When he spoke, his voice was hard. "Go back to the gym and shut the door. Both of you. The witch and I are going to have a...discussion. And I won't have an audience."

If his words hadn't told her he meant to hurt her, the tightening of his grip on her arm did. Her mouth went dry, and it was suddenly all she could do not to try to fight her way loose from his hold.

But she'd never get loose, never get away. And the punishment would only be worse if she tried. That was the way it had always been with Birik.

The air didn't seem to want to go into her lungs.

The pale-eyed man slapped Jag on the back. "Come." To Paenther he said, "Don't kill her. Yet."

As the two huge males walked away, Skye fought the tears that tried to clog her throat. It was so much harder taking cruelty from a man who'd once been kind. Lucian's betrayal had broken her as Birik's attacks never had.

Paenther released her arm and pushed her into the cell.

Skye whirled to face him, desperate to try to make him understand. "Please, Paenther. Nothing I did was because I wanted to. Except free you."

"Shut up, Skye."

"He controls me. I don't have a choice. I never have a choice!"

He grabbed her and pushed her around, pressing her face-first into the rock wall until the cold stone bit into her cheek.

"Shut up!"

She felt his hand tugging at the hem of her dress and closed her eyes against the burn of tears. He grabbed her bu**ocks, his fingers digging into her painfully, over and over, first one side then the other.

"Where is it? Where's your cantric?" His hands began to grip her thighs, bruising her.

"It was embedded in my heart when I was eight."

His hand stopped abruptly. "That's impossible."

She swallowed hard, remembering the words of his chief. Get rid of her cantric.

"Paenther, please."

He tugged and pulled at her wrists, and suddenly her arms were free of the binding. Gripping her shoulders, he turned her around roughly, his eyes hard as flint.

"Take off your dress."

She stared at him. He wasn't going to kill her. Not yet. Of course not, she thought bitterly. He'd yet to take his revenge.

With shaking hands, she reached for the hem, pulling the fabric up and over her head in a single tug. Nudity didn't bother her. She was far too used to it. Instead of tossing the dress to the floor, she pulled it against her chest like a shield. No, nudity didn't bother her. It was why he wanted her naked that terrified her. What punishment did he intend to visit on her body?