Elemental Awakening Book Bundle

by Nicola Claire

  "Is she fit for another round?" he demanded, coming to stand over the doctor's shoulder and glare at my supine form.

  The doctor met my eyes, a message there that I couldn't determine. Then he stood from his chair and turned to face Davos.

  "Too bad if she isn't," he snarled, making Davos chuckle wickedly.

  "You wanna stay and watch?" the Gi interrogator asked. "I plan on being inventive this time."

  My stomach lurched as my heart picked up speed. Davos had received too much enjoyment in my pain, to the point that I think he craved it, desired it. A sick kind of fear took root in my belly and spread through my numbed limbs.

  "I wouldn't want to get in your way, Davos," the doctor murmured, taking a step toward the door, his shoulders rigid.

  "Too bad," Davos said, effectively dismissing the retreating doctor. "All the more for me to relish."

  "At least let me have a short break before I have to return to heal her again," the doctor said at the door, his eyes on Davos, I think he no longer could look at me. Guilt? Or just a survival mechanism, knowing what was in store for me and switching off his emotional reaction to my plight. "I have an appointment in Manaus this evening."

  Oh freaking hell. The doctor wouldn't even be here if Davos got out of hand. A sense of foreboding and sudden all-encompassing clarity swamped me. I was truly, truly alone.

  Had the doctor just been another ploy to give me a slither of hope and then smash it? Make me open a little to his tender care and softly murmured words, and then cut me off completely from that line of support. Reinforcing my desolation.

  Davos laughed, it slithered along my spine and left sickening pinpricks all over my skin. A small amount of sweat had broken out across my upper lip, threatening to spread at an alarming speed.

  "Enjoy yourself, Doctor," he murmured. "Perhaps by this evening we both will have satisfied an itch."

  Bile coated my tongue, as the door clicked shut behind the physician.

  My eyes met the feral green of Davos' and an ugly smirk graced his lips.

  "Are you ready, Princess?" he mocked, emphasising the title the Gi had never acknowledged, even though it appeared they had that day in Auckland. I was not their long lost princess, and they'd known it.

  What they hadn't known was what I actually was.

  I had an awful feeling that despite what perverse and evil things Davos had in store for me this afternoon, I'd never be able to give them the answer they sought.

  I sucked in ragged breath after ragged breath, as he stepped closer and closer to my bed. Just before he reached out a large hand to grasp me, I screamed.

  It was the only weapon I had.

  And it was never going to be enough.

  Chapter Two

  In My Dark, Dank Cell

  "It's just you and me," Davos murmured in my ear, as he clasped a metal bracket around my wrist. "Cosy, eh?" he whispered, letting his sickeningly hot breath wash over my still healing cheek.

  He bent and fastened two more chains to my ankles, the metal already digging into my flesh. I was strung up and defenceless. My arms pulled taut above my head, my back to a cold concrete wall, and my feet braced slightly wider than shoulder length apart. He adjusted the tension until there was absolutely no give at all. I couldn't even rattle the chains they were so tight.

  I settled for a glare at my torturer, the only defiance I could spare.

  He stepped back and held my gaze, a twist of his lips at one side letting me see his amusement at my ridiculous show of strength.

  "With the good doctor gone, there's no one in this building to hear your screams," Davos pointed out, enjoying the reaction that must have shown on my face. "I don't have to consider word of our fun reaching the Rigas," he added, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied me.

  His green tinged eyes coasted over my exposed frame. He hadn't stripped me, but the shirt I wore was so threadbare he'd see every outline, every dip and curve of my breasts. And the trousers, although still clinging doggedly to my hips, had been ripped early on in my captivity, until now they were more shorts than long pants. He made sure I could see his hunger with each bile inducing caress of his gaze. I was no longer certain if it was hunger for my pain or something else, though.

  And that made the bile surge up my throat.

  "Before we get started, I have obligations I must meet," he said, in a tone that suggested he'd rather bypass this part and head straight for the fun. "What are you?" he asked, the question that was repeated daily, several times a day, during my sessions with this man.

  "I've already told you," I replied, swallowing down the acrid taste on my tongue and almost gagging. "I don't know."

  "Not good enough," he shot back. "The Basilissa wants the truth."

  The Basilissa was the Queen of the Gi. And I was sure these interrogations were carried out on her orders and not, in fact, the King's.

  "I can't tell you what I don't know," I supplied, a truth I had repeated since the start.

  "No?" Davos queried with an arched brow. "Then maybe I can force it out of you. Perhaps it is buried deep inside and you just require the right stimulant to extract the knowledge."

  He smirked. It made me physically sick.

  "I can be very stimulating," he pointed out with a sneer.

  Vomit pooled in my mouth. I was tempted to spit it at him, but the consequences would be too painful, even if the disgust he'd surely show would offer a minute measure of satisfaction. I gagged as the acid burned my throat on the way back down.

  Davos frowned. Then took a step closer, dismissing my unusual behaviour.

  "Last chance," he whispered, just as his big frame stopped within half a foot of mine. "What are you? You are not one of us. You are not one of the Pyrkagia you love so much. Then, what. The. Fuck. Are. You?"

  My mind scrambled to come up with an answer, any answer, it didn't have to be the truth, just something to stop what would happen next. To throw him off the scent and give me a chance to prepare for my painful death.

  But nothing could prepare me, I was sure. And no miraculous answer sprang to mind to rescue me from my dire situation.

  The only thing I could think to say was, "What do you believe me to be?"

  "An imposter!" he shouted, spittle coating my face, as a fisted punch to my stomach accompanied the cry.

  Air burst from my lungs and I couldn't suck it back in again. I curved, as much as my body allowed in its current chained state, in on myself, trying to protect my burning muscles. The vomit I'd swallowed earlier churned and clawed at my insides. I ached, but without air in my lungs I couldn't even scream through the pain. Just a grunt and tears streaming down my cheeks was the only outlet I had at my disposal.

  "Can you breathe yet?" Davos asked conversationally. "Suck it in, Princess. This isn't even the end of round one."

  Another punch to my stomach, which surprisingly, although still hurting like a bitch, didn't make my lungs scream for air anymore than they already were. I grunted, coughed, and watched horrified as blood splattered the front of Davos' shirt. That punch had done some serious damage.

  My vision blurred, blackened, and by the time the world stopped dimming and the room again formed in front of my eyes, Davos had removed his top completely. And stood bare chested in front of me, arms crossed, angry glare on his face.

  "That wasn't nice," he pointed out. "Do I get my blood on you?" he asked, bizarrely expecting an answer from me. "Well? Do I?"

  "You don't bleed," I forced out between still gritted teeth. "Your heart is made of stone."

  "That's it, Princess. Show me what made you so delicious, a Pyrkagia Prince forsook tradition and bedded what he thought was a Gi."

  Theo. Pain, that outshone the agony still burning in my midsection, speared through my chest. In a knee-jerk reaction I reached for my Stoicheio, to soothe the ache or lash out at the cause of it, I don't know. But all that met me was empty space. A void so deep and dark it was fathomless.

  Frustration
flushed my body, made me stretch against the binds at my wrists and feet, and then scream in the face of my tormentor. Ear-splitting, heart-wrenching, from-the-deepest-part-of-my-soul type of scream.

  My throat, already so hoarse from the bile and vomit earlier, was raw by the time I was through. I hung limply by the cuffs above and panted for much needed air, while tears rained down on the floor between my feet.

  "Are you quite finished?" Davos asked, unimpressed with my little display.

  I spat at him, wishing my saliva was still mixed with my blood. His hand rose slowly to wipe the spittle off his face and he growled, low and threateningly.

  "That will cost you," he promised, reaching into his trouser pocket and pulling a device free.

  He flicked his wrist and the small thin object doubled in size, then trebled, until it was long and whip-like. Which he then propelled through the air making a swishing sound vibrate around the room.

  "I think you need a little softening before we get down to business," he announced, ominously. "Make sure you know your place."

  He cracked the whip against the wall within inches of my right cheek, making me jerk and suck in a surprised breath of air. He laughed at my reaction, then did the same movement again on the other side. This time closer. I could feel the displacement of air as the whip passed within millimetres of my flesh.

  "Imagine what this will feel like against your skin," he whispered, running the device through his fingers lovingly. "Imagine the marks it will leave. Some, unfortunately, may be permanent."

  He waited for me to see the falsity of that statement. Athanatos could heal from an injury such as that. When he saw the question on my face he leaned forward, a hairbreadth away from my lips.

  And whispered, "I'll infuse my Stoicheio into the tip, just as it enters your flesh. Channel essence to coat it in toxin. But I won't do it each time. You'll never know if the sting you feel leaves a permanent scar or not. You'll ask yourself, as the excruciating pain spreads out along nerve endings through your entire body, will I remember this when a lover strokes his hand down my spine?"

  "Fuck you," I ground out. "You wouldn't know the touch of a willing lover, so try a different line, Gi. One I might just believe."

  It was useless to be defiant, but even now, faced with the reality of a beating that could leave permanent marks, I couldn't go quietly into the night. Even without my Stoicheio to encourage and boost me, I still felt a demand from deep inside, telling me to never give up. To never give in.

  It was futile, but I clung to those words, that whispered through my mind. I clung to them even knowing they were a fantasy.

  His free hand wrapped around my throat and he pressed hard, making me gurgle and struggle for air. His lips crushed against my cheek, followed quickly by his tongue licking the salty taste of tears from my skin.

  "I taste your fear, Princess. I smell your defeat. I can feel the thundering of your blood through your veins. I hear your pants for the last of your breaths. And I'll watch the light leave your eyes in the end."

  He squeezed one more time, an unbelievably painful tightening around my throat, and then released me. I coughed and spluttered and attempted to draw in much needed air, unable to reach the bruises he'd formed on my neck and soothe them.

  "One last time," he gritted out between a set jaw. "What are you?"

  I shook my head, but my throat hurt too much to even answer. He knew what I'd say, I didn't need to cause myself more injury by voicing it.

  Davos spat on the ground at my feet and then reached down and undid my ankle cuffs. He made quick work of those and with a snarled, "Don't try anything stupid, Princess. I'm just craving a chance to fuck you up more than necessary, right now," he undid the wrist cuffs and turned me around to face the wall.

  If I'd thought I felt exposed when facing him and the room, it had nothing on the sensation of having him at my back. He ground my cheek into the concrete, re-bruising the recently healed flesh, and then re-established my binds, top and bottom. He then stood back and did nothing.

  My face was turned sideways, so I could only see a partial glimpse of him watching me, watching his handiwork. Enjoying the moment before he stepped things up and let that whip fly. Several long drawn out seconds passed, no sound to indicate how much he was getting off on this, just the pressure of waiting, of knowing, what would come next.

  Three months of captivity and it comes down to this.

  I knew the moment the Gi Rigas had ordered Anaisthetikos back in Auckland, that things were not going to go as Theo and I had planned. In the space of seconds my world, already turned upside down, was simply blown apart. Although I didn't see him die until Davos started using Hederin on me, I watched Theo battle with the vine at his neck. I watched the blood drain from his handsome face and coat his collar. And I watched the love he felt for me blaze from his golden eyes as the terror of his plight took over.

  I woke briefly to the sound of birds in the trees some time afterwards, the humid feeling of a jungle forest wrapping around my body, and from then only the dank enclosed space of my cell.

  I saw the Rigas that first day in my barren room. He asked the question I have been asked every day since.

  "What are you?"

  Even then, having had my world destroyed, knowing that the Gi were not friendly, but enemies instead, I still didn't get it.

  Three days of nothing. No food. No water. No Earth.

  And then Davos, my Gi interrogator walked in. I got it then.

  I was not a Gi Princess. I was never one of them.

  The interrogations were interspersed with visits from the doctor, when Davos had really gotten out of hand. But no one else visited my prison.

  And now this. The next stage of my captivity. The progression of my demise.

  My shirt was brutally ripped off my shoulders, exposing my naked back. Davos' hand pressed firmly, purposely, against my spine, hot against shivering skin, making sure to grind my naked breasts against the rough concrete.

  He gripped my upper arms, brought his face up to my ear and whispered, "Feel good?"

  "Fuck off!" I snarled, attempting to throw my head back against his nose. He moved too swiftly for me to connect, but his laughter let me know he enjoyed my failure.

  "For that, you'll get an extra dozen," he murmured, walking a short distance away and spreading his legs to steady his stance.

  I closed my eyes, sucked in one last breath of air, and then held it. Waiting.

  "Any last requests?" he taunted, dragging the moment out as long as he could. "No? Pity," he murmured. "Well, I have one anyway. Scream for me, Princess. Scream loud and long. I want to hear how much I hurt you. I want the sound of your agony ringing in my ears for days to come."

  I bit my lip and swore to myself I wouldn't make a sound.

  Miraculously I managed to keep my promise on the first stroke of the cane. The sting brought tears to my eyes, which spilled unrestrained onto my cheeks. My body jerked against the binds, the chains rattling only ever so slightly. My back bowed, scraping rough concrete over sensitive flesh.

  I blinked back tears to see Davos had moved to stand before my face.

  "So brave," he whispered. "It's a fucking turn on."

  Then he was gone and the cane smacked into my flesh unmercifully, strike after strike after strike.

  The sixth or seventh switch made me cry out a noise so pained it sounded animalistic.

  "That's it," he encouraged, adding another slash across my skin. "Let me hear you, Princess. Fuck! Let the whole complex hear you scream."

  The next strike was different. I knew intrinsically that he'd infused it with Gi. The sting was piercing, as though the cane had entered to bone, slashing through flesh and muscle, severing nerves and blood vessels, and embedding itself on my soul.

  The scream that time was a wail of undignified defeat. I think I pleaded for him to stop. I think I told him I was an Alchemist spy. I may have promised to do anything for him. I don't know. It's a moment I wo
uld rather not remember. But I knew I'd never forget. Because whatever essence he channelled, while making that last swipe of the whip across my back, would ensure the permanent reminder was there. A scar that told the world I'd been whipped, beaten. Brought down to this.

  A snivelling, grovelling mess of whimpering flesh hanging from chains on the wall in a concrete cell.

  There was no coming back from this. He'd won. Davos, the evil, bastard interrogator, had won. I couldn't give him the answer he sought, but I now knew my place.

  "You're mine," he murmured in my ear, his chest pressing hard against the slashes across my back, making me whimper.

  I felt his hand stroke down my side, then slip between the wall and my stomach to haul me back from the concrete. He pressed himself into my behind, leaving no doubt in my mind where this was going. Then ran his calloused palm up my stomach, over scratches and aching bruises that were in various stages of healing. Until he could cup a naked breast and squeeze hard.

  Another whimper followed, this time by a mewl of distress mixed with a feeble cry of defeat.

  "Whose are you?" he asked, his free hand coming down to the waistband of my cut-off trousers and panties.

  He started tugging them lower.

  I closed my eyes and closed my heart. Cutting myself off the only way I knew how. Letting my body become numb.

  "Whose are you?" he repeated, his hand moving from the band of my trousers to cup my butt cheek instead.

  I sucked in air, felt a solitary tear trickle down my cheek and whispered, "Theo's."

  Davos stilled, clearly unsure of what he'd heard. Maybe considering that I was an absolute glutton for punishment to defy him.

  Then he withdrew his hand from my pants and punched me in the kidneys. Hard.

  Pain lanced up my back and brought sick to my mouth. I spat the vomit out immediately, panting for breath and unable to see through the wash of tears in my eyes. I tasted blood.