I felt bloodthirsty today.

This is not a chapter. Only a short thing, which will surge later in the story.

under cut: violence, torture, decadence. I would say “do not” but you all will read either way. Please don’t read if you are not fond of “hard” stuff.

 

 

Leira was gazing at Lorian, her whole being protesting, but she couldn’t stop looking. She felt his displeasure, his usual collected, almost bored demeanor, now turned into deadly calm before the storm, which seemed to enter not only her heart – it was sinking in all who was present in the throne room. His glamour attacked her senses, beautiful and frightening. She felt as it touches her, how it slids over her, filling her with conflicted feelings.

Do not do that to me.

She couldn’t stop looking.

She didn’t want to stop. It was dragging her in, a spell that she was not ready for.

The lower fey who was guilty of the boy’s escape was not ready for it either. His aura was frantic, like a trapped bird, who knows it will be sacrificed.

Leira observed with fascination, how Nymre and Alertha creep behind Lorian, dark creatures, ominous harbingers of death, which couldn’t wait for their lover to punish the guilty.

The fey knew he had no chance. Leira didn’t want to look. She didn’t want to look. Never. But she looked, and that alone was making her so afraid. Why you do that to me.

“So” Lorian raised a brow, his voice deep and only slightly tinted with anger, sweet as honey, way too sweet to taste good. “I was under the impression you wanted to explain yourself. Do not. I am not in the mood for words aimed to save you. The only thing I really would find pleasant to hear would be the sound of your punishment.”

The fey’s expression showed only resignation. He spent here too many years, he knew how Lorian punishes those who displease him. He only hopes it won’t last too long.

I am not your toy. Even if my mind starts to believing that it’s the only way. That it’s all true.

“I find you very bold. Allowing to escape the prisoners, from whom our existence depends. So I thought that you will be bold enough and amuse my mate. She really needs it.  Something to spark her fire.”

Nymre and Areltha latched to Lorian’s shoulders and looked at the fey with a gleam of sick fascination, pure like winter morning.

“Not too deep… please…” he uttered, but it only made Lorian furrow his brow.

“Make him feel, deliciously” Nymre sighed into his ear and he looked at her with an undeciphered expression, misplaced hunger and annoyance, mixed in one.

And a single pulsating wave sunk into the prisoner’s body, almost invisible, yet Leira choked in her place. Lorian slowly stepped from his seat and approached the fey. The captured fae wanted to drag off, but Lorian’s darkness hold him in place, until he was face to face with him.

He caressed the tensed face of the prisoner, delicately, almost with affection, slid his hand into his abdomen. And filled him in.

The fey stood like paralyzed for a while, until something started to move inside him. His mouth opened in mute expression of agony. Something was making its way through his flesh, digging in his veins, something relentless. He wanted to scream, but found out that his voice was swallowed by the power which was beating now in his body.

The fairies gathered in the throne room looked with a sick interest as he gagged, trying to catch a breath, as Lorian power was burying deeper. No blood poured, only spread skin indicating what happens inside him, a defiant sign of his failure.

Lorian seemed to beam with blackness, filling every crevice of his prey with his spell. His eyes gained additional depth, now looking like black holes, swallowing all hope.

It lasted and lasted, until times stopped going, and for the fey, only pain left, pain and the gaze of Lorian’s black eyes, drilling wounds in his soul.

“Now” Lorian smiled, his features lightening. “Mercy is tasting better, when it comes after the suffering” Leira looked at him again, this time with more fear than anything, she knew he will do something vicious. His dark radiance seemed dim and muted, his disappointment and anger and hunger pulsing around him. “If you express how hard you regret. I will end this. If you won’t, though… more will grow in you.”

Nymre and Areltha laughed delicately, amused and elated. They approached Lorian again and leaned over him, pressing to his back.

Stop. Do not do that. I am not your toy.

The captured fey’s eyes filled with tears, both from pain and from the utter hopelessness. Lorian took his voice out and didn’t return it, the power he sent choking him and suffocating each word before it left his mouth. The spellbound tendrils moved deep into him and he knew he wasn’t even close to dying. They were dark enchantments, so they could grow in him for months, until they dissipated. He moaned painfully, doing everything to show Lorian that he at least tries. Please allow me to speak. Please. I beg of you.

“Such a loss,” Lorian purred. His hair brushed with shadows, his eyes blank in their pitch black darkness.

The fae tossed in place, when Lorian’s force pushed again into him, burying itself harder, taking what was now belonging to the night.

“I think it was not that deep” Lorian smiled, a sharp grin on his otherwise ethereal face, looking at the trembling fey with curiosity. He turned to the lower fae guard who looked at it with a glint in his almost white eyes. “Take him and lock him somewhere low. I don’t want to hear about him anymore. Watch others, so they never tried to help him. He needs to feel it, savor it like a wine.”

Nymre looked with deep fascination at the punished fey, her eyes never blinking, her hand clenched tightly on Lorian’s arm.

Leira felt as if something squeezed her heart, hard. Lorian was never merciful, but seeing this, always was making her feel uttermost sadness and regret.

Even if she couldn’t stop looking.

Do not look at him. He does it for purpose, he wants to own your emotions and soul. Just…

… do not look.

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