Torn (A Wicked Saga, #2)(62)

Then Drake pressed down, and I felt what I hadn’t felt when we’d been on the couch and I thought I’d been making out with Ren, seconds from taking it to the next level. A different kind of terror filled every cell as he lowered his mouth toward mine, stopping just shy of our lips meeting. “I like it when you fight back.”

I immediately stopped. “Gross,” I spat.

“Shame,” he murmured. “But there will be time later.”

Forcing myself to go still, I tried to suck in air as I stared up at the prince. He looked like Ren. He sounded like him with the exception of the speech pattern, but this wasn’t Ren causing me pain, slowly cutting off my airway. It wasn’t Ren turning my insides out, terrifying and infuriating me.

It just looked like him.

It was the cruelest kind of evil wrapped in the most familiar beauty.

His gaze moved over my face as he reached between us with his other hand. He gripped the front of my shirt, and for a heart-stopping moment, I had no idea what he was going to do. Then his fingers wrapped around my chain. He yanked. My body jerked, and then he was holding the necklace—my tiger’s eye with the clover enclosed.

My eyes widened.

“I’m going to enjoy this far more than you’ll ever know.”

Drake lowered his mouth to mine, and I clamped my lips shut. “So difficult,” he said, grasping my chin. His fingers dug into my cheeks, forcing my jaw open. The winter mint taste filled my mouth, but he didn’t try to kiss me.

He inhaled.

My entire body jerked as an icy burn traveled down my throat and exploded in my gut. He was feeding—oh God, he was feeding. With each breath he took, the precious commodity was stolen from me. The feeding was draining, stealing away my energy. A heavy weight settled in my stomach, barb-tipped and razor sharp. It tore through me, and distantly I recalled Val saying it could be pleasant, better than sex. I called bullshit

on that, because it felt like he was sucking out every ounce of my being.

Darkness crept in, crowding out all light and sound, and then it was more than just energy he was stealing. I fought to stay aware in my body. Too much was at stake, but the burn was everywhere, and I was shrinking away from it, pulling myself back. My hands slipped off his arms, and pieces of my will vanished, crumbling away until my body went lax, my arms falling to my sides. I saw the inky blackness filling the veins in my hand, spreading outward.

And then I saw nothing.





Chapter Twenty-One


Waking up was like dragging myself out of quicksand. Every time I thought I’d reached the surface, I was sucked back down until I was finally able to pry my heavy eyelids open. Bright light greeted me, an intense warm sunlight.

Was I dead?

I turned my head to the left and saw a large window. Gauzy white curtains were held back by sashes. I quickly deduced that I was, in fact, still alive.

And I was on a bed.

A large bed.

Jerking upright, I gasped as a rush of dizziness nearly dragged me back under. My throat ached, as did several other places. My hip felt like it needed a replacement. I squeezed my eyes shut, counting slowly as everything that had gone down with the prince resurfaced.

He’d been masquerading as Ren.

He’d fed on me.

I opened my eyes and looked at my right hand. The veins there were more prominent and a darker blue, but the black was gone, along with most of the poison. The sluggishness would linger for several hours. That I knew from personal experience.

Ren.

My breath caught as I stared down at the pale blue bedspread. I didn’t know if he was alive or dead or . . . worse. All I did know was that he wasn’t safe. The prince—Drake—had said that he was alive for now, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust those words. Sorrow welled up until a knot formed deep in my chest and tears burned my eyes.

If he was . . .

My fingers dug into the comforter as I exhaled harshly. I couldn’t let myself feel grief right now. Too much was at stake, and I was not safe. I needed to figure out where I was and how I could get far, far away from this place.

I lifted my gaze, scanning the ornate bedroom. The room was huge, with lavish furnishings. Two oversized chairs that reminded me of thrones sat in front of a large window. Across from the bed was a massive oak dresser. A standing mirror was in the corner next to an open door that led to what appeared to be a sizable bathroom.

The room smelled of rich balsam.

Gathering up my energy, I scooted toward the edge of the bed and peered down at the shiny hardwood floors. A plush white throw rug that looked as soft as a lamb covered half the floor. Carefully, I swung my legs off the bed. It was then that I realized my feet were bare. My boots and socks were gone, as was the iron stake hidden in my left boot.

I was weaponless.

“Shit,” I muttered.

With a shaky hand, I reached for the torn collar of my shirt. My necklace was gone, too. Double shit. I was susceptible to manipulation now. Tendrils of fear grew within me, washing over my chilled skin. The only way I could protect myself was to be careful, and to not let the fae make eye contact with me, but that was equivalent to the pull-out method when it came to not getting pregnant.

My hand closed into a fist and fell into my lap. As my feet hit the soft rug, a dozen horrible thoughts assaulted me. How long had Drake been masquerading as Ren? Instinct told me it was after the night I had told Ren about what I was, and he’d subsequently disappeared. I was praying that was the case, because the longer Ren could’ve been under their control, the worse things were.