Order of scorpions, p.59
Order of Scorpions, page 59
“What time do you usually rise to start your day?” I press.
Verus’s fuck you mask is once again in place. Curio sets a small incubator on the far table with a small percussive thump. Verus tries not to turn his head toward it, but his eyes swiftly glance over and then away. He knows what’s coming. His breaths pick up with a hint of panic before he tightens his control and forces them back to the even inhales and exhales he works hard to maintain.
I pull the dagger currently sheathed at my ankle. It’s the one Auset filched from me that first night, and I debate between giving it to her as a gift or hoarding it like the prized blade it’s become to me. Slowly, I begin to flip it around my fingers, expertly twisting it between my digits as though I couldn’t slip and relieve myself of one of them at any moment. It could be seen as an intimidation tactic. Really, I’m just bored. We have big plans for our captive today, but Riall went overboard on breakfast, which means Auset probably won’t be done eating for a bit longer.
Riall knows she’s learning to pace herself, but that’s warring with the instinct to provide, which his new Blood Bond is driving through him. Auset can’t walk away from a single crumb left on any plate. She’s feral when it comes to food, which is an adorable sight to behold, but when I think about why she’s that way, I start to feel a little fucking feral myself.
By some miracle, Auset doesn’t blame us for what happened to her anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for it though. I’ve learned a priceless lesson on complacency and negligence. It’s definitely changed what we allow to be done in the name of the Order of Scorpions and what we’ll stand for. But the damage has been done, and there’s not much we can do other than ensure it doesn’t happen again and make what restitution we can when Auset is ready.
I hate the circumstances around the discovery of our mate and what she went through at the ludere. As grateful as I am that we even found her, it’s a crushing blow to know that the other piece of your soul was stripped raw and irreversibly scarred by soulless monsters, and it’s your fault.
I focus back on Verus and the room. Now’s not the time for me to get broody, no matter how much I wish I could fix what we fucked up. I can give her Verus though, give her access to what’s in his head, and that will have to do for now.
“What did you eat before you ambushed us the other night?” Curio asks as he unlatches the locks on the lid of the incubator. “What time do you usually eat dinner?”
Verus’s nostrils flare in an effort to pull in more oxygen while he clamps his mouth tighter, and his lips thin into a stubborn line.
“Do you prefer a cold day or a hot one?” I chime in.
Sweat starts to bead on Verus’s upper lip, and his breathing grows louder as he keeps his eyes trained on the small alcove of shadows that blanket the door and the only entrance and exit to the room.
Curio dips a hand into the incubator. “What’s your favorite weapon, the one you reach for first when you’re scared?”
Black swells until only a thin ring of the silver is visible in Verus’s gaze. His unusual eye color is notably darker than Auset’s. His has shards of gray hidden in the hue instead of the chips of pale blue and violet found in our mate’s stare.
Curio turns and Verus’s pale skin grows even paler.
“You remember Danes and Gilmore, right?” Curio queries as he sets two small bolt scorpions on Verus’s pale chest.
Curio moves to reset and lock the lid on the rest of the nest in the incubator and then drops into his own chair as the two small scorpions start to get comfortable. Verus tilts his chin up as though he’s trying to get as far from the painful little beasts as he can. They cautiously crawl in opposite directions, Gilmore heading for Verus’s shoulder while Danes skitters to the opposite armpit. Danes always picks the most painful places, a trait, sadly, none of his offspring have shown the same penchant for. I grin as I think about the tiny beast. I’m pretty sure the gifted little crawler enjoys this as much as we do.
“What’s the first sound you hear when you wake in the morning?” I press as our ghost’s chest starts to rise and fall faster and faster and goose bumps rise on his bare arms and chest.
Verus stays silent, but I can tell it’s a struggle.
Curio smiles as he picks up a tuning fork from the table next to him. His eyes never leave Verus as he knocks the fork against the leg of his chair before lifting it up in front of him. As soon as the resonant sound begins to ring in the room, Verus tenses, but both bolt scorpions have already seized his skin with their pincers and struck with their tails.
A low keen spills out of Verus’s clenched teeth as pain from the stings works to overwhelm his senses. Bolt scorpions—aptly named for a sting that feels as though you’ve just been shot with the bolt of a crossbow—have the useful ability to cause maximum pain without being dangerously toxic. It makes them the perfect little helpers when it comes to this kind of work. A handful of days spent with the bolts and the scorchers that we breed for this exact purpose, and we usually get what we want out of someone. The Empress always joins in too, but we like to save the best for last.
Silencing the tuning fork with his hand, Curio sits back, and the bolts relax, creeping to new spots on Verus’s body like they’re ready and waiting for the next signal. He growls, spittle breaching the seam of his closed lips as he tries to shake the scorpions off his torso with a distressed whine that quickly morphs into a roar that rings with agony and frustration. Gilmore almost loses her hold, and Curio holds up the tuning fork in warning. Verus immediately sags against his bindings, sweat now dripping down his neck as he looks around wildly, his enraged stare now steeped in suffering.
“Be a good boy,” I taunt. “Answer some questions, tell us what we want to know, and maybe, just maybe we’ll let you spend some time with the moon tonight,” I offer nonchalantly, and Verus’s head immediately snaps in my direction. “I thought that might get your attention.”
He glowers at me, but the spark of uncertainty in his eyes stokes a fire in my gut. I can practically see him thinking through everything that’s been said and revealed in this room, searching for when he let that key piece of information slip. He didn’t, and watching that dawn on him is the first piece in today’s game, because it reminds him of her.
Curio and I discovered early on, when Verus was still in the habit of asking us a question every time we posed one to him, that he was very interested in the fourth Scorpion. The one he didn’t know existed. The one who can heal by the light of the moon, just like him, it seems.
We weren’t sure if the healing thing was special to Auset or if there were others who could do it. Staring into Verus’s eyes right now confirms that it’s not just her. The fact that he watched her do something that we suspect only he and his people can do has sparked an obsessive interest in him that we’re going to use to our advantage today.
A knock at the door breaks up the tense silence, and I smile at the perfect timing. I rise to answer it, stepping out of the room and into the hallway lit by fairy light sconces spaced evenly on the walls.
“Finished with breakfast?” I tease with a sly smile, and Auset snorts.
She likes to pretend that she disapproves of my teasing Riall, but there’s always a smile curving at the edges of her mouth that gives her amusement away. She can’t blame us. Riall’s sudden over-the-top urges to provide, protect, and preen for his new Blood are absolutely fair game. He’s so besotted it’s fucking adorable, but cooking every dish Auset has ever liked and then trying to hand feed it to her is not going to be overlooked.
The first and only time he took something from her plate and lifted it sensually to her lips, I almost pissed myself from laughing. She shut down the hand feeding so fast, offended that he would take anything from her plate even though he was trying to feed it to her and not steal it for himself. It’s like his bonding instinct has forgotten who our feisty little mate is.
Auset rests a hand on Riall’s chest and pets him affectionately. “It was delicious as always. I’m completely stuffed.”
Riall grins but there’s a lascivious tilt to it, and I just know the lucky bastard fucked her on the kitchen table to help her work off some of that big breakfast he couldn’t help but make. I’ll have to call dibs on her and the table for lunch.
“You ready?” I ask Auset, jutting my chin in the direction of the door.
She nods, an eager twinkle in her eye, but I can tell she’s anxious too. There’s a lot riding on getting Verus talking. All of us have watched Auset silently struggle with the fiery need to find answers while trying not to get her hopes up. She deserves this, and we’re going to ensure she gets what she needs from this pissant.
“Ready,” Riall grunts, and I’m still struck by the physical changes in him since he and Auset first drank from each other.
It’s taking some getting used to.
We all researched what we could about female Sanguinna and Blood Bonds when Auset revealed she was one. There wasn’t an abundance of information. It seems most of the answers disappeared when female Sanguinna did, but nothing any of us came across talked about the changes their bodies would go through after they were bonded.
Riall got taller by half a hand and filled out even more. It was like he went through some final stage of Sanguinna puberty. His hair got lighter, more ash blond than the ash brown it was before, and there’s now a distinct silver ring around his pupil that fades into the hazel color he’s always had. They’re both faster and stronger now, although there hasn’t been much time to test the full extent of that.
“Still think this is the way to go?” I ask, not really questioning Auset’s plan but trying to help her feel as confident in it as she can before walking through the door.
“How fucked am I for being excited?” she asks, and I chuckle.
“Fucked up is my bread and butter, so you might be asking the wrong person,” I tell her, pulling her closer until her chest is pressed against mine.
I want to untie her tunic and suck on the tight nipples I can feel against my chest through our togs. Her pupils start to dilate, and the fact that it could be from either me or what’s about to go down with our captive does all kinds of salacious things for me.
“It’s good to do what you’re made to do,” Riall assures her gently.
I cup her face before she can get too caught up in her head, and tilt her head back. I want to sample her excitement, taste the hint of desire I see floating in her eyes and tightening her perfect body. I fucking love that we’re able to give her this. I was ready to scour the fucking realms and beyond to find answers for her, but somehow they fell right into our laps, like a mating present from the stars themselves. I want to live the rest of my days doing everything I can to ensure that Auset feels exactly like she does right now. Hopeful. Elated. Loved.
I deepen the kiss just a little and then pull back, my forehead pressing to hers as I fix a glamour in place. Her eyes and hair darken until they’re blacker than shadows. The skeletal mien rises to the surface of her skin as though its oil drops in water. My thura ascends and converges until she’s all Scorpion on the outside. She’s in a black fitted tunic and leathers, with Curio’s custom blades hidden all over her body.
I’m once again astounded that we found her, that she’s ours—or rather we’re hers as she likes us to concede whenever we’re feeling particularly possessive. I’ll never stop being in awe of that, because we are, in every possible way. We’re hers.
I squeeze her ass once for good measure and then give Riall his glamour.
“What no ass grab for me?” he taunts as I turn to go back inside the room.
I’m chuckling as I step through the door to find Verus intently watching. This chamber is warded, so sound doesn’t travel in or out of surrounding walls, but Curio has set out two other chairs for us, and it appears that Verus is eager to discover who will be joining today’s torture.
I watch him carefully as I step to the side to reveal Riall—although now he’s much taller than I am, so maybe it’s not much of a surprise that he’s standing behind me. Verus’s silver gaze dims with resigned disappointment as he takes my brother in. He must think we’re once again entering the beat it out of you portion of his captivity.
Riall strides confidently to the seat next to Curio and plops himself down. Disappointment is quickly replaced by a flash of interest as Auset closes the door behind her and strides out of the shadows to stand behind the chair next to mine. She rests her glamoured skeletal hands on the back of the seat and stares at Verus for a second.
This is officially her show now, and I can’t wait to sit back and watch her work. We’ve discussed things at length, but all of us know, when it comes to extracting information from unwilling participants, things don’t always go according to plan. Mostly we just want to rattle Verus and see what falls out in the process, but I love watching her take control of her fate like this.
“I wondered when you’d show up,” Verus comments, and Curio raises an eyebrow at the brazenness he has despite our best efforts to wring every drop of hubris from the bastard’s body.
Like the huntress she is, Auset just watches him.
Failing to get a reaction, Verus tries to match her placidity, but after a handful of minutes, Danes skitters up to his shoulder and he flinches.
When the quiet seems to grow to be too much for him, Verus asks, “Who are you?”
I don’t like how he’s staring at her. It’s as though he’s seeing a lifeline and not the threat that she is. My girl will teach him though.
Auset moves around the chair and over to the table by Curio where all of Verus’s armor and weapons have been laid out. She remains silent as she runs her finger over the light gray shell of his chest plate like she’s trying to find something familiar about it. Her stunning black eyes rake over the weapons as though she’s both searching through them and cataloging them simultaneously. Finding what she’s looking for, she reaches out and plucks the iron blade from the array.
She studies the weapon, paying careful attention to the bone hilt and the gleaming blade.
“You couldn’t pay most fae to put a pebble of iron in their pocket for more than a dozen minutes,” Auset observes as she walks behind the chair and out of Verus’s line of sight. “And yet you carry around a blade made with the noxious metal. How long did it take you to build a tolerance?”
“Years,” Verus grits out like the word is forcing its way past his lips against his will.
I grin, knowing the whinnip root is taking hold of his tongue.
“Who are you?” he demands again.
“Does it still burn you, or are you immune to even that?” she continues.
He doesn’t answer.
Auset shrugs like his silence makes no difference to her and then moves in closer from behind and presses the flat of the blade to the side of his neck.
A sizzling sound starts, and the distinct smell of iron-charred flesh wafts through the room. Verus hisses and tries to move away from the blade. Auset lets him, having found the answer to her question despite his silence.
“Not immune,” she observes as though she already knew this and is sweetly taunting him.
Verus clenches his jaw against the pain, his hands once again in fists as he grunts out, “Who are you?”
The shit stain clearly can’t let that go.
“You fight with it, but you’re not used to the bite of the blade?” she queries in that saccharine, silky, slightly taunting way of hers.
I’m intimately familiar with her candied contempt. I swallowed my fair share of it when we first met. She has an uncanny way of slicing you up with every word, judging you as lacking and beneath her, and all you want is more. It doesn’t matter that she’s cutting you to the quick, because she’s only looking at you when she does it, and it makes you want everything she’d offer if you could only prove yourself worthy.
Auset moves to the front of Verus, and his eyes track her like she’s a fresh stream in the desert. Slowly, calculatingly, Auset folds the sleeve of her tunic up until her forearm is exposed. She keeps her intense stare on Verus as she brings the flat of the iron blade to her inner arm. She stares at him with absolutely no expression on her face as the iron burns her skin and marks her as tougher than this fuck could ever hope to be.
She’s a strikingly ferocious little fae.
“I’ve known the bite of every blade I’ve ever used,” she declares, her voice perfectly even and casual as she finally pulls the iron from her skin. “I used to think it was more of a barbaric practice than a useful one, but I’m starting to see its merits. What do you think, Verus?”
Auset speaks his name as though she’s searching for something familiar in it. Interestingly enough, Verus looks as though he’s doing the same with the sound of her voice. All of us are tiptoeing around the rim of something unknown, waiting to see who will fall in first.
“Who are you?” she asks, parroting Verus’s question.
There’s a fierce and determined look in her eyes that promises she’s going to get what she wants one way or another. Verus studies the iron blade in her hand, the burn on her arm, and then her face.
He clenches his teeth against the answer that’s trying to crawl out of his mouth. “Verus Hathwait, second son of Chief Hathwait. Sword in the first division of the Moon’s army.”
He stops, panting for breath as though each word was ripped from his innards, his glare icy and filled with spite.
“Soh thorah ruw erahda, sian hierreth vier ausooe fotil eiss,” he demands in a language I’ve never heard before.
I tense as it rings around the room, falling all around us like seedlings that have lost their guiding breeze. What shocks the ever loving shit out of me though, what knocks me across the jaw like a cheap hit, is when Auset looks him dead in the eye and then answers in the same lilting mystery tongue.
