Reap (Scarred Souls, #2)(38)

The female’s hand squeezed mine, still lying over her heart. She repeated, “My name is Talia, who are you?”

Squeezing her hand back, I forced my voice to work. It croaked, “2 … 2 … 1…”

The female sat back and sucked in a breath. A few tears streamed down her cheeks, but as I was about to back away, thinking I’d hurt her, her lips moved and she smiled even though her lips trembled.

“You speak,” she said in relief. “You can speak. And your accent…” She blushed, but shook her head, lip curling. She seemed … happy?

“Can you say my name?” she asked. I concentrated on her mouth as she said, “Talia.”

I listened to the sounds. I rolled them around my mind, and said, “Tal … Tal … i … a…” A relieved sigh burst from her mouth. She moved until she was right in front of me.

I stared at her face, her pretty face, her soft eyes, entranced by the way she looked at me. I put my finger to her heart, then put my finger over mine, and I asked, “You are … for me?”

A whoosh of air passed through her parted lips. Her words caught in her throat. Her dark eyes shone brightly as water filled them, soaking her long black lashes.

Slowly, her hands moved to each side of my face and threaded in my long wet hair. I held my breath, heart beating loudly. Then, she did something I’d never felt before, she pressed her lips to my forehead.

I swallowed at the feeling this press of her lips brought to my heart. The sun. Something inside of me told me it was like the feel of the sun shining on my face.

I frowned as that thought crossed my mind. I did not remember standing out in the sun, head tipped back as it warmed my face, but something inside told me that I had done it once, or a lot, I did not know.

The female broke away. Her finger drifted down and traced over my number tattoo. Her long lashes fluttered, and she said, “This is a slave number given to you as a child. What was done to you was sick, twisted, and very, very wrong. They, that man, called you by this number your whole life. But you had a name. You still have a name.”

I stilled, something long forgotten trying to push through to my mind.

A name. A name? I have a name?

I’d always been 221.

I am 221.

I am Master’s 221.

I am—

“Zaal,” the female said suddenly. My body tensed, a wash of pain stabbing at my flesh. “Your name is Zaal. Do you remember?”

I clenched my jaw as it hurt to think of that name. Zaal.

I slumped, out of breath. Tal … Talia’s arms wrapped around me. I thought of what she’d said. I was free. Master wasn’t here. I had a name. Zaal. So much raced through my head. I pulled away. I turned my attention to my chains against the wall and felt ice cold.

I wasn’t free. She was lying.

Talia sat back in surprise and abruptly, I moved. I could see the hurt etched in her face, but she was lying. …

“Zaal—” she spoke, and reached for my arm. I pulled it back with a snarl, giving her my back.

Anger ran through my veins, fire building in my stomach. Master was punishing me, I knew this. Giving me this female, getting her to make me believe I was free. I was being punished. He was punishing me for something. I just didn’t know what I’d done wrong.

Getting to my feet, I walked back to my chains. The water with which Talia had cleansed me was still pooled on the dark hard surface.

I sat beside my chains, on the cold wet floor, my back against the wall. I kept my head down. Master would soon be here to punish me.

“Zaal?” Talia’s voice questioned. She had quieted, her voice barely above a whisper.

My chest tightened as she called me that name. Zaal. A white-hot pain burst into my head on hearing the name Zaal. It took my breath away, causing me to rock back and forth. I pushed my hands against my eyes to stop the pain.

A hand pressed to my cheek and stayed there until the pain passed. I opened my eyes. Talia sat before me. She was looking at me with sadness in her eyes. A lump crawled up my throat and I rasped, “Why … why are … you … doing this … to me…?”

Her face scrunched in anguish and she sat back, her lips trembling. “Doing what?” she whispered. Her voice was shaky.

“This…” I told her, my hand over my aching chest. “You hurt … this.…” I tapped my finger over my heart. It felt bruised, cracked at her deception.

I’d trusted her.

She paused, her pretty face frozen until she glanced away, her lips pursing. “How?” she asked quietly. “How do I hurt your heart?”

“You … lie,” I replied. I watched her snap back to face me, seemingly in confusion. I picked up a chain, lifted it beside my arm and showed her the marks on my wrist. “I am not free.”

I didn’t know how long I’d been in here, in this new cell, but I’d been chained. My wrists and ankles bled. Food had been thrown in a bag at my feet twice a day. I pissed in a bucket in the corner. Just like I did with Master.

“No,” Talia said. Her voice crackled. “You are free. Your captor isn’t here.”

More pain pierced my chest as she continued to lie. “Chains,” I said. “I am not free. I am kept in chains, in darkness. I am not free…”

The dark cell went silent. Talia didn’t say anything for a long time. Then she stood. I didn’t look up. I knew she was leaving. But her feet didn’t move.