Torn (A Wicked Saga, #2)(65)

“You’re like my pet,” he said as we reached what I assumed was the first floor. Bright sunlight streamed in through numerous windows. He tugged on the chain when I stopped.

Fae were everywhere. Lounging on the couches and chairs in the sitting room. Leaning against the walls. My wild gaze roamed over them as Drake tugged me toward the back of the large house. All of them watched with varying degrees of amusement or disgust etched onto their striking, coldly beautiful features. Except one. A female fae with silvery hair braided and tossed over one shoulder. The look on her face was one of horror. I didn’t get it. The fear in her pale eyes was palpable as the prince dragged me toward another door that an ancient stood in front of.

But then the ancient opened the door, revealing a narrow hallway, and I was being pulled through it, much like a dog on a leash. “The humans who owned this house said that this once was the servants’ quarters,” Drake explained. “I think they used the term ‘servant’ loosely.”

I was led into a wider room that used to be a servants’ kitchen. The cabinets were still attached to the wall and an old fridge hummed softly. The room still served as a kitchen.

Well, not the kind of kitchen I ever wanted in my house.

Dozens of cots lined the room, and they were occupied by humans in various states of being fed on. Their complexions were pale and marred by inky, black veins. A male was currently being fed on. His moans were a mixture of pain and something else entirely. And he wasn’t pushing away the male fae that was feeding on him. He was clenching the fae’s shoulders, holding him close.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, horrified, my stomach twisting painfully. “You—”

“We need to feed,” Drake replied, tugging on the chain until my gaze found his. “They enjoy it. You would too if you’d stop fighting me.”

“They enjoy it?” I whispered, sickened. “What kind of life is this?”

The prince didn’t respond. He opened another door, and I thought about what had happened at Flux. I had no idea if all the humans who worked at the club knew about the fae, but some did, and look what had happened to them. They were murdered. “You killed all those people at the club. You—”

He tugged on the chain until I was brought to the tips of my toes. “They crossed me. It would be wise of you to learn from their example.”

I wanted to ask how they’d betrayed him, but I was pulled into a room about the size of a walk-in pantry. It was dimly lit by a bare, hanging bulb. I gasped. I was no longer thinking of the club or the humans lying on the cots. A figure was hunched against the wall, his hands secured together. A heavier chain ran from his wrists to the wall. Russet, wavy, limp hair fell over his pale, high cheekbones. A purplish-blue bruise covered the left side of his face. He was shirtless, his pants were undone, and his chest was a mess of scratches and bite marks.

No. No, no, no.

I didn’t want it to be him, but it was. It was Ren.





Chapter Twenty-Two


“Ren,” I cried out, rushing forward.

Drake caught the chain, jerking my head back. The metal dug into my windpipe. I grabbed the chain, fighting for length. “Did I give you permission to go to him?” he said.

A powerful surge of hatred boiled up in me, stronger than I knew was possible. Ren’s chest was moving with slow, shallow breaths. He was alive, but the network of veins under his skin was abnormally dark. I didn’t have to ask to know what they’d been doing to him.

Not taking my eyes off Ren, I struggled to get oxygen in and words out. “Please. Please let me go to him.”

The prince didn’t respond for what felt like forever, and then I felt the chain loosen. “Don’t make me regret this concession. He will pay for your actions if you displease me.”

Hating the prince with every fiber of my being, I went to Ren’s side, kneeling down on the scuffed wooden floor. “Ren,” I whispered, placing my hand on his right cheek. Carefully, I lifted his head. Lashes fanned the deep, dark circles under his eyes, but he was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “Oh God, Ren . . .”

“Don’t feel too bad for him,” Drake said, approaching us. “He’s caught the eye of Breena, and she has been real . . . hands on with him.”

I didn’t know who this Breena was, but she was officially on my to-kill list. Brushing back the flop of hair from his forehead, I brushed my lips over his brow.

“How romantic,” Drake said dryly.

I closed my eyes against the burn of salty tears, but I couldn’t un-see the ragged scratches and the surface bites. I didn’t know everything that this Breena and the others had been doing to him, but I knew it wasn’t pretty. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, pressing my cheek to the top of his head. “I’m so sorry.”

Ren’s shoulders rose with a ragged breath, and as I drew back, his eyes fluttered open. Oh God, those beautiful green eyes were all his. They were slightly dull and a bit unfocused, but they were his. Tears snuck free as his gaze found mine. How had I ever mistaken the prince for him?

I forced a weak smile. “Hey.”

“Ivy?” Ren murmured.

“It’s me.” I smoothed my hand down his cheek, feeling several days’ worth of stubble.

Another breath shuddered out of him. “You . . . shouldn’t be here.”