Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series)

by Jaye A. Jones

  But he didn’t listen. He rubbed his bronze hands together. The gorgeous man’s wrists were bruised, like he’d been wearing handcuffs too tight. I focused on the strangest things when I was terrified—something I recently learned about myself.

  He came closer. Big hands out toward me. Inches from me.

  I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

  Don’t touch. Don’t touch. Don’t touch.

  Those big, bronze hands disappeared.

  Myra’s long fingers, her pointy, black nails cut the girl’s fevered skin like knives. The witch smiled wickedly, then placed her hand on the girl’s face, caressed her cheek with care like a mother would. The cuts she’d given were gone in seconds, healed so the witch could torture her again, hear her screams of misery and desperate cries again.

  I never escaped their basement. I was still there, right now, strapped down by invisible binds and held in place by invisible chains to be tortured, beaten, used up until there was nothing left of me. Until they took everything from me.

  Death should be quick. Please. Please kill me quickly.

  Where the witch had caressed, she slapped without mercy with impossible strength, and the girl spit blood as her bottom lip split open. The witch’s nails came at the girl again, knives on fevered skin, and the witch laughed as the girl screamed.

  I wanted to scream again, and I did, but the sound was only inside my mind. I felt my last grasp of reality leave as I inhaled, and screamed silently again. And again. I screamed at Myra, spitting blood at her porcelain face, the blood never reaching her because she had powers that had no right existing in this world.

  “What are you waiting for, Cam? Do it already.”

  A man’s voice. I heard the words. There were no men in the basement. No men ever around Myra or her sister.

  I shuddered, my teeth chattered, lost all control of my body that continued to thrash and flail, but my mind was back where I really was. Not in the basement. I tasted blood. In the MICU, in Chicago.

  “Lucas, shut up. She’s freaking out.”

  The big man’s eyes were fixed on me. He was Swaying me to relax, and my body was responding now, no longer futilely squirming. He brought me back to this place. But now I was trapped with his mind.

  Couldn’t move. Couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t keep the magic away. But there was nothing I could do about it, for a ridiculous amount of reasons.

  “Do it. Now. I don’t know how long I can hold them both.”

  The grumpy night nurse was gone. When did she leave? The big one must have Swayed her to go get a cup of coffee or move onto the next patient. I knew it was possible. I didn’t know how it worked. Or its limits. Or how long it lasted.

  The handsome one caught my eye, and I was able to watch him as he surveyed my wounds. When he saw my eyes on him, he hesitated again. I think he may have even taken a step back, but I couldn’t be sure considering the awkward angle I was laying in. The Sway was only keeping my body from struggling, keeping my mind here, in this room. I was still able to think what I wanted, look where I wanted. I was still me.

  At least this was one of the better Sways I’d been under.

  The handsome one shook his head a few times, shot the big one a look that went unnoticed, then put his hands on my stomach in a rush and held them there.

  I was trapped. I was helpless. I was bleeding and broken and a basket case. And when the handsome one’s Mend spell started to swirl around me, under my skin, inside my guts, I gagged, wanting to puke to get the magic out of me.

  “She doesn’t have to be awake for this,” I heard, but didn’t understand.

  Magic felt like something, something tangible I couldn’t describe. It felt like something wasn’t right, a feeling deep down that screamed it didn’t belong. Usually, the screaming was on the outside, in the air, on my skin, and I could keep it there.

  “I’m not sure I can,” I heard, but didn’t understand.

  Mend got inside, to the deep place that should be my own. I felt violated. I felt helpless, trapped, breathless and worthless. I was ashamed for my weakness. But it came anyway. Tears joined the pool of blood at my chin on the stiff white sheets that were used once, and now used up and had to be thrown away.

  “You’re going to have to try,” I heard, but didn’t understand.

  Kind of like me. Used once and used up. Tossed aside. I was nothing. I couldn’t stop any of it. Never stood a chance.

  I’ll never be free again.

  I couldn’t open my eyes anymore through the pain, through the shame, through my tears as memories I’d kept at bay tormented me, threatening to finally complete their task and break me.

  “Sleep,” was the last thing I heard before everything disappeared.

  **

  Craved by Jaye A. Jones is available for your purchasing and reading pleasure now on your Kindle device. Check out Jaye’s Author Page or visit www.jayeajones.com for more.