Mistress of Souls, page 29
My worry for her was clouded by my own extreme emotions. I created my own tragedy, and it was all for nothing. He was protecting me.
I feel another emotion that I still refuse to acknowledge. It is attempting to escape my smothering hold. I push it down. That warm feeling has no place in this memory.
Ian is silent in my mind as he replays scenes I didn’t know existed.
He picks up Tiffany’s mutilated body and carries her to our suite. He heals her with magic, an ability I didn’t know he possessed. I can’t describe the process, just that she was completely healed.
Tiffany gave him a small, watery smile.
“Well, that sucked,” she sighed. “But it was worth it if it kept her safe. Won’t they be curious how I’m healed so quickly? That amount of torture would take a while to heal with only Vitasmooth.”
Ian doesn’t return her smile but responds, “You will stay in our suite for a few days, and no one will be the wiser. They do not care about your wellbeing, so no one will be looking for you.”
Tiffany rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, nobody cares about me. Get on with it.”
“I will be vancating with Mariax shortly,” he says as he slips a cell phone out of his pocket and holds it up before handing it to her.
“How did you even—never mind. There’s no service for this kind of human technology, but I’ll take it. Will you use your magic on it to make it work?” she asks, her eyes glinting with mild excitement.
He slips out another phone before stating, “I have already programmed my number. If you need help to get out of here before your time is up, all you have to do is call.”
Tiffany pockets the phone and nods in acknowledgement.
The scene blurs again.
Ian’s emotions are chaotic and brimming with anxiety. I’m overwhelmed. I can’t fully process everything I’m seeing right now.
The memory of Ian desperate to find me. He speeds through time and space, popping up in different parts of Inferuna. He doesn’t take the time to mask himself, and he appears, scans the surroundings, and moves on.
We must have searched all of Inferuna by now, and he still hasn’t found me. Little does he know I’m in the torture center, the last place he would look. Tiffany must have already found me by now, and I’m guessing I’m close to fleeing.
Absolute terror washes over him as he echoes his emotions in the memory. He can’t find me and assumes the worst, that the Potentate had taken me when he was caring for Tiffany. Regret he spared a moment to heal her is strong.
The real Ian’s voice speaks in my mind. “You wouldn’t have left if I had found you. I could have explained everything…”
“You saved my best friend and protected me, even if it wasn’t the right way to go about it.” My voice breaks as I continue, “I would never have asked you to do that or have allowed you to use her, Ian.”
“I know, but I did it anyway. You can’t change the past,” he says seriously.
“I didn’t regret leaving without you at the time.” I sigh deeply.
“I never have, and I never will betray you, angel. I admit I sometimes take things a bit too far, but I always weigh all my options. Now, pay attention.”
His invisible hand grips my chin and turns my face to view a new memory as it appears.
We finally pop back into the torture center. We are standing in the room I just vancated.
What’s left of the soul I tortured is writhing on the table, and bloody instruments are scattered across the floor. The entire room is splattered with blood. The memory of Ian turns on his heel to exit the room just as the instructor walks out of a room further down the hall.
I feel Ian’s emotions radiating through me powerfully. A smile filled with vengeance curls his lips. He rushes forward and is before the instructor before he can flee. Ian grips him by the throat and raises him in the air.
“I told you one day you would meet your end by my hand,” Ian growls.
It’s then that I notice the dead demon close to the entrance of the building, just beyond the instructor. It shows signs of being strangled.
The pattern I left behind on his throat would match my tail, wrapping around it perfectly and then cutting it open. The demon deserved to suffer for attempting to capture me, and strangulation wasn’t enough to cool my blood lust, so I also slashed its throat. It was dead before it hit the ground.
My eyes flashed back to the struggling creature in front of Ian.
At this point, Ian admits to himself that I am no longer in the realm of Inferuna. He is fully unhinged as he laughs darkly, describing all the ways he will torture our instructor.
“I will enjoy slowly placing tiny cuts all over your body. Truly showing you, my devoted instructor, everything I’ve learned in your training. What kind of pupil would I be if I did not display everything I’ve learned over the years?”
Ian winks at him, and a piece of everything I lost is minutely soothed.
The instructor’s skin pales before turning blue from lack of oxygen. Ian releases his throat, only to grab the instructor’s hair as he falls to the ground, yanking him upright again. The instructor screams as Ian drags him, using the force of his body, lethal rage fueling his muscles, to move him down the hall to a different torture chamber at the end of the building.
He throws the instructor inside and slams the door behind them both.
In the next moment, I’m back in my own mind.
My entire body is shaking from shock, nerves, and the overwhelming emotions I can’t contain. Hunter is by my side already, smoothing a hand down my hair.
I’m pressed between the two of them.
Ian has one arm wrapped around Hunter’s waist, pulling him close to us, while his other hand remains lightly pressed to my temple. He slowly trails his hand down until he gets to my waist, pulling me in more securely between them.
“You didn’t betray me,” I uttered quietly.
“No, I never did.”
Chapter 37
Mariax
The sound of metal-on-metal pierces my eardrums as the female in front of me struggles against her bindings. She is bound to the giant Saint Andrew’s cross that is bolted to the floor on the side of the room. My plan is to wear her out enough that she’ll be begging me to end her punishment, and then I will continue with more vigor.
I need this. After everything Ian showed me, I need to clear my own head.
She knows what she did to deserve this punishment, and I can see she’s nervous about the outcome. However, there’s also an underlying current of excitement vibrating off her skin.
She looks like something that belongs in a child’s fairy tale, at least on the outside. On the inside lies a predator wanting to draw in the souls to snack on them. This submissive is a siren, but you wouldn’t know it at first glance except for the slight shimmer of her skin and the unnatural ethereal beauty of her face.
She’s almost too perfect, with an airbrushed quality.
I was surprised when she came to me looking to be a submissive because sirens are generally the complete opposite of a submissive.
They enjoy pain and misery in themselves and inflicting it on others. This one wants to further explore her darker side with her own pain. So here she is in her human-like form with legs and arms, but I learned that if you place her feet in a bucket of water, her tail and scales will reemerge.
With her permission, I began experimenting.
It turns out that scales are exceptionally sensitive, and they grow back. I have never worked with them before, so I had to get creative.
At first, I just began lightly petting them with my tail, watching her response closely.
Certain areas on her body where the scale seemed lighter, like around her breasts, were extremely sensitive. Just the light feather petting in the growth direction sends her nearly into hyperventilation. However, if I ran my tail the opposite way, the scales lifted up, and she would scream in anguish.
We’ve been in this session for hours, and I am not even close to finishing.
After her last session, the siren decided to lure a human to her right outside my building. Why she thought she could get away with that, I have no fucking clue, but when she came back for her next session, I showed her the security footage. Her skin turned the color of pale rotting seaweed when it’s been left on the beach to dry.
Her ass is bare to me, making sure that all of her scales are on display for what I’m about to do.
I tap my shifted tail, currently resembling a cattle prod, and run it up the scales of her back, so they lightly pick up with each bolt of electricity running over her skin. It looks as though they’re about to rip off at any second.
She begins shrieking, so I stop and shove a ball gag into her mouth while I berate her for her behavior.
“This is the last time you will ever enter my premises. No one hunts, no matter the style, in front of my property without reaping the consequences,” I hiss. “When your entire body is in endless agony, remember to be grateful you’re still breathing.”
I lift the bucket of water by my feet, the rim in one hand and supporting the base in the other, before throwing the water at her back as hard as I can. She wanted to know what her hard limits were. I guess we’d found them. It wasn’t difficult at all to rid her of those scales, but I’m sure she can find a nice, tasty soul far away from my territory to heal herself.
I shift my tail into a long flat knife and meticulously peel up her scales one by one. Her scales are pink against the floor as her muted screams sound. Blood runs in rivets over her ass, but she hasn’t made the hand signal for me to stop her punishment.
I change tactics, preparing to electrocute all the wet, vulnerable skin on her back. Her body seizes up with the first prod, hands gripping around the chains, and her arms are fastened.
There’s a sharp knock at the door, and Lauren speaks through the intercom, alerting me to an emergency.
“Fuck off, I’m working with a client,” I shout over the zapping of electricity.
Lauren replies, “Mistress, this situation requires your direct attention.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mumble under my breath.
I drop my tail, and it returns to normal. I grab a cloth hanging on a hook near the cross and wipe off my hands, stomping to the room’s exit and flinging it open.
“What is the disaster you can’t possibly handle alone?” I question Lauren with the corner of my top lip pulled up in a snarl.
“Mistress, there is a man outside attempting to force his way through the wards. He is screaming your name and shouting bullshit about the club, Hunter, and you,” she quickly explains.
I shoulder past Lauren with an irritated huff and make my way to the main door of the building.
When I step outside, I come face to face with a short, stocky, pissed off male.
His smell hits me before I even get near him.
He reeks of cheap liquor and shifter. His clothes are stained and wrinkled, showing he has been in them for a while. The knees show the most wear. I walk down the stairs and face him through the purple haze of my wards.
He goes to shout at me before halting as he takes in my appearance. In response, his mouth drops open, and his eyes widen. My outfit is still coated in scales and blood, remnants of it ring my fingernails and my wrists.
I smirk at his expression and then unleash my anger on him.
“Who the fuck do you think you are loitering outside of my business? The last creature that dared to cross me ended up in my dungeon missing key body parts,” I threaten, flicking some of the scales on my hands at him to show that I’m serious.
I feel my magic skimming my skin and wrapping around me in a thick layer before radiating outwards. I know it reaches him when he stiffens and his eyes narrow.
A smart male would have fled, whereas this one doesn’t seem to have all his mental abilities.
“So, you’re the infamous Mariax, huh? The reason Hunter won’t take me back?” he spits.
“In the flesh,” I verify, throwing my arms out wide. “So, you came here to assault me? Insult me? What?”
“I came here to fucking kill you, you disgusting whore. You ruined my godsdamn life!”
“How would I have ruined your pathetic little life? Hmmm…” I tap my index finger on my chin. “Oh, I know. A certain wolf finally saw you the way you are now? Pathetic, a sniveling excuse for a wolf. If he broke your heart, which I doubt, that has nothing to do with me.”
“Wrong. It has everything to do with you. Ever since he met you, he’s changed. He’s more outspoken. He’s been making things happen in the community. He’s just better…more, I don’t know what, but it should be me getting the credit for it,” he says, his voice filled with woe.
Interesting. I pull my phone out from my back pocket and call Hunter. I tap the tip of my boot impatiently. This needs to be dealt with, and it’s not my job to handle his pack bullshit.
He answers on the fifth ring.
“Cheetie, is this a booty call?” he asks seductively, the pitch of his voice deep. The warmth of his accent attempts to soothe me.
“You need to come down to The Snuggle Palace right now before I kill one of your wolves,” I order.
“What do ye mean, kill one of my wolves?” Hunter questions, his sexy tone vanishing.
“There’s a male here threatening to murder me because he claims I took you away from him. He is blaming me for your breakup, and I would rather rip his brain out through his nose, then listen to this shit.”
I can hear his eyes are narrowed through the phone. “What does he look like?”
Pack shit needs to stay off my doorstep. My clients don’t need this attention. I don’t have time to deal with his bullshit. I’ve got my own problems.
Hunter says again, drawing me away from my thoughts.
“Mariax, please tell me what he looks like.”
“Fine,” I acquiesce. “He’s stocky, about six feet, with mousy brown hair clipped very short. Stubby nose. A scar that runs along his right forearm.”
There’s silence on the line for a beat.
“Fuck. That’s Patrick, my ex. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Oh, I know. He already told me what a whore I am for stealing you,” I say and then hang up on him, shoving my phone into the back pocket of my leather bodysuit.
We stand there, glaring at each other for what felt like an eternity but was probably closer to ten minutes.
I’m impatient, and I want to be done for the day to go relax.
To take a long bath, snuggle up in my little nest in my bed, and finish the Bea Paige book I started. It’s not so much to ask. What does a demon have to do around here to get some godsdamn peace once in a while?
But then, the idiot wolf makes a huge mistake.
“Look at you, too scared to face me, hiding behind a ward,” he says cockily, pointing a chunky finger at me.
My fury barrels into me full force as I step through the wards.
“I was attempting to keep this civil for Hunter’s sake. But hopefully, he won’t mind if I break you a wee bit,” I say sweetly, holding my pointer finger and thumb a small distance apart in demonstration, mimicking Hunter’s accent at the end of my threat to drive him further into jealousy.
I draw my foot back and crash it into his kneecap, the sharp stiletto spike of my boot embedding in his shin. He falls to his knees, blood gushing from his leg when I pull my heel out.
I wipe my bloody heel off on his shirt before placing my hands on my knees and bend to whisper, “Do you want to continue to make threats you will never fulfill?”
Finally, a frazzled-looking Hunter comes sprinting up the sidewalk across the way. He barely checks for traffic as he crosses the street, causing several people to blare their horns. Stomping up to the kneeling Patrick, he punches him in the face.
I step back to give him room and cackle, pleased with Hunter.
Patrick turns to glare at me from the ground.
I shrug and say, “I told you to get the fuck off my property. You didn’t, so enjoy your reward for your refusal to do so.”
Hunter is seething, his fists balled at his sides. Patrick returns his ire and attempts to spit on Hunter, but it only lands on his own chest.
So pathetic.
Hunter plants a boot on Patrick’s abdomen and leans on it with his full weight, resting his arms on his raised leg and staring down. The air whooshes from Patrick’s lungs as Hunter applies pressure.
“Didn’t I order ye to get the fuck out of Appalachian Pack territory?” He shouts, loud enough to set off the alarm of the car parked on the street next to us.
“You should have never broken up with me. I was the best thing that ever happened to you,” Patrick states, rejection filling his tone.
Hunter stands and kicks him in the face; I hear Patrick’s nose break. I stand far enough away to keep Hunter focused and be ready to help if he needs it.
The glee inside of me battles to break free. My body is practically vibrating with the need to jump back into the fight.
Hunter looks at me and holds a hand up to tell me to stay.
I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Another shifter was leaning against a lamppost; it must be Charlie. I’ve never met him, but he matches the description Hunter gave me.
Before Hunter can do more damage, Charlie pulls Hunter away, leaving the bloodied fool on the ground groaning in pain. Hunter puffs out his chest and stands to his full height.
Hunter’s tone drops into an even more menacing timbre to speak to Patrick. “If I ever see yer face again or hear a word ye have been spotted nearby, I’ll hang ye by yer entrails until ye bleed out.”
Hunter and Charlie each grab a leg and drag Patrick behind them up the sidewalk. The motion causes his shirt to ride up. He starts screaming as the cement of the sidewalk slowly sandpapers his flesh raw.
Hunter turns his head and yells back to me. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, my wee Cheetie. Let us take out the trash for ye.”
