4. Rhyland

Rhyland

4

T hese damn silver chains, with their fairy-tale scribbles, cut off my vampire strength, leaving me weak as a fucking kitten. A twin piece of crap collar wraps around my neck, giving this bitch, Queen Amara, the control she craves.

Lucian and I—her playthings, dressed up and trotted out to stroke her sick ego before the twisted lot in her court. Don't be fooled, though—a golden cage is still a fucking cage.

Her goons, eyes only for Queen Crazy, keep us under constant watch. Any hint of rebellion gets squashed in a heartbeat, and there is no chance to break free.

We're stuck playing our parts in this twisted, never-ending show of hers, drowning in the endless bullshit that bleeds into her court's daily life. Lucian, with his biting quips, and I, the brooding, defiant captive, are the day's twisted entertainment.

Come nighttime, this hellhole dresses up in its true dark, debauched colors. These chains might slacken, but they're always there, a heavy reminder of the so-called 'freedom' we'd be fools to chase.

Amara showers my brother with all the excesses, trying to chain him to her side with her sick games and pleasure dens. She's desperate to turn him into one of her devoted dogs, drunk on her bullshit favor.

She keeps throwing herself at me, thinking I'll bite. But I shut the vain bitch down every damn time. My gut is twisted up thinking about Danica. Our ripped-apart bond screws with me every waking minute.

Is my fiery girl lost to me for good?

For a second, I swear I felt Dani's touch as if she was reaching out through the shreds of what we have. But it's probably just my fucked-up head playing tricks. She's out of reach, our bond's death courtesy of fae fuckery. And yet, some stubborn, pathetic part of me won't stop clinging to a sliver of hope.

"My pet, you are so very tense. Come, allow me to soothe your burdens," Amara purrs, trailing a possessive hand down my chest.

I wrench away, barely masking my disgust. "I require no soothing, M y Queen ."

She is anything but my queen. The title rings hollow, an empty appeasement to placate her arrogance. In truth, she wields no valid claim over me.

But for now, I've gotta eat up her delusions of grandeur, stroke her ego with some bullshit respect and pretend devotion.

It pisses me off, having to play the groveling kiss-ass before her. Bending the knee like some damn bootlicker isn't my style. I have to bite my tongue, keep my head down, and play this twisted game to keep one step ahead and keep breathing.

"On the contrary, I sense your thoughts are plagued by...distractions," she retorts coyly. "Allow me to refocus your attention."

Before I can react, she grasps the collar's engraved ring, using it to pull me close. "There are far better uses for that scowl than glowering into shadows."

It all happened so fast after the raging river tore us apart...

The Shadow Court patrol descended swiftly; our powers muted uselessly as they bound us in engraved silver chains. We tried explaining our presence, but they hauled us to the throne room like wayward dogs.

Queen Amara lounged on her obsidian throne, lethal beauty and power radiating from her slender frame. Arctic amusement glinted in her crystalline eyes as the guards forced us to kneel before her.

"Trespassers," she mused, her voice a melodic chill. "And vampires to boot. What dark whims bring you before my presence?"

I locked eyes with her, that predatory part of me that thrived in the darkness, acknowledging her dominion. "Misfortune threw us into your realm. We have no quarrel with you. We seek to reunite with our own," I stated plainly, the alpha within refusing to bow despite the chains.

Her interest was piqued with a macabre curiosity. "Companions? Pray tell, do you mean more of your accursed kind haunts my domain?"

I opened my mouth to deny, to set the record straight, butLucian, ever playing with fire, jumped in. "Only the fairest damsel, lost and surely weeping. Your realm's dark charm probably spellbinds her."

I silently cursed, every muscle rigid with suppressed rage. His foolhardy jesting only tightened our chains.

Amara's eyes narrowed, probing the veiled truths behind our facade. "And this damsel," she inquired like a cat toying with a corneredmouse, "what sorcery led her astray into my court's web?"

Lucian, undaunted by danger—hell, perhaps spurred by it—replied with a cavalier shrug. "Magic mishap—she's into that kind of thing. You know women and the supernatural."

His sarcastic twang did us no favors. I glared daggers at him—his tongue might well be our undoing.

Her despotic smile never wavered as she considered his words. "A curious tale," she concluded. "Yet such tales often mask darker intentions. The hunger of your kind is no secret."

Asserting my stance, knowing that this was not a battle of fangs and fury but one of wits and wills, I reaffirmed, "The histories of our kind are not our histories. Grant us passage, let us leave in peace, and your kingdom will not know our shadow again."

So here we are.

Gilded halls fill with writhing figures and the air pulses with primal hunger. Scantily clad Fae nobility indulge every carnal desire, passions amplified—orgies and bodies intertwining indiscriminately in ecstasy. Rapturous screams and cries of pleasure echo all around.

Amara trails covetous fingers up my thigh. "Mmm, yes, listen to them enjoy each other so thoroughly. Does it not tempt you?"

I grasp her wrist tightly, every muscle taut with revulsion. "I've no taste for such base debauchery."

Amara's eyes flash dangerously. Before I can react, her palm cracks against my cheek, claws raking blood. "You dare reject your queen?"

Cheek burning, I stare her down defiantly. "My appetites lie elsewhere."

With a snarl, Amara backhands me again. "Arrogant fool. You will submit or suffer dearly for defiance." I taste the metallic and swallow.

I grin mirthlessly through the blood. "I suppose we shall see, won't we?"

With a snap of the queen's jeweled fingers, two intertwined Fae males detach from their passionate lovemaking. Backs arched in ecstasy mere moments before now straighten obediently under her commanding gaze. Rivulets of sweat still glisten on their entwined forms as they disengage and pad over to kneel reverently before her.

It clicks that everyone here is dancing to her tune, leaping at her every command despite the clear reluctance in their eyes. Yet, for some reason, her orders bounce off Lucian and me like raindrops. It has to be the gift of compulsion at play here—and considering Lucian and I are pretty much-walking corpses, that mind-bending trick doesn't stick on us.

Eyes downcast, the taller of the two speaks. "How may we serve your pleasure, My Queen?"

His voice strains with unsatisfied yearning. The queen's ruby lips curl into a cruel smile. Then I fucking see it—the room's thick with her power, black smoky shadows coiling around her as she demands, no, commandeers their goddamn will.

With a painted nail, she indicates to me. "You will rut for my guest. Put on a stimulating show so he knows precisely what awaits those who refuse to submit to my will."

She's wielding some twisted, dark power shit. It's uncannily like Azrael's, complete with those same black, smoky-ass shadows.

Her words drip with mocking promise. I resist the urge to puke as the Fae males rise and move like zombies to position themselves before me. This perverse game revolts me, but I remain outwardly impassive.

At the fuckin' queen's command , the smaller Fae turns his back, gets on his knees, and spreads his legs. His taller partner wastes no time, eager as fuck to ride him, their last session leaving 'em both hard and throbbing.

As the tip of the dominant male pushes past the tight ring of muscle, the receiver lets out a moan of pure ecstasy. With agonizing slowness, the bigger male thrusts himself deep, burying himself balls-deep. Their obscene rhythm builds, the sound of slick flesh slapping together mixed with their cries of pleasure. All for that twisted bitch's sick amusement.

I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to block out the sight. But her sharp command lashes out, thick, black smoke curling around her. "Watch! Or I will gouge out those pretty blue eyes that dare defy me."

Her guards wrench my face forward. Bile rises in my throat again as I'm forced to observe the two Fae males rutting madly, consumed by arousal. They are keen and grunt like animals.

The queen urges them on with graphic demands. "Harder! I want to hear the slap of your balls against his ass."

They go at it like rabid animals, whipped into a frenzy. Her cold, sick cackling slices through me worse than any knife could. She's all about the degradation, the violence—flexing her muscles by breaking everyone else down.

I've gotta lock this shit out, throw up walls in my head, so I don't drown in her filth.

It's Dani's laugh that keeps me from cracking. As long as Dani's out there, breathing and fighting, I can stick it out in this shithole.

But then Amara's nasty claws clamp down on my face, yanking my gaze back to her twisted circus. "Keep. Watching," she hisses, each word dripping with a threat that says she's not just playing around.

A shudder runs through me as my eyes lock on the writhing bodies before me. They move, bucking and moaning, lost in the throes of passion—the dominant male buries his face in the other's neck.

The queen's voice cuts through my horrified fascination. "See how they give themselves over to pleasure? This could be you, bound in chains before my court, writhing and panting as our most skilled lovers fill you."

The thought of being violated in such a way makes my stomach churn. I keep my expression blank, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing my disgust.

She continues taunting me, her voice dripping with scorn. "Perhaps you prefer the company of men? It makes no difference to me." I wrench my face from her grasp, unable to stomach more. "Is this where your appetites lie?" She challenges.

Jaw tight, I rasp, "No. I desire only one woman."

Amara gestures to the entwined forms, both now shuddering in the throes of orgasm.

"One woman?" she laughs. "As if that's possible with you bloodsuckers. Their performance is just one of many that await you when you submit. Or you may continue to resist and endure whatever tortures I deem fit."

My skin crawls at the thought of being subjected to Amara's perverse whims. But I remain silent, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.

Her lips curve into a cruel smile. "You will break eventually. There is no escape for you here." She growls. "I may not be able to command you like these fools, but I will break you."

The guards release my head, allowing it to droop forward, but their hands remain on my shoulders, holding me in place.

Amara's voice rings out, commanding my attention."What say you, Rhyland? Will you bend your will to your queen or endure more torment?"

I raise my head, meeting her gaze defiantly. "I will never submit."

Fury smolders in her violet eyes at my defiance. She means to break me entirely to her will. But my mind and heart remain beyond her reach.

The receiver's peak hits first, his seed spilling onto the polished stone floors. The giver follows teeth bared in ecstasy. They disengage, spent momentarily.

She shrugs, an elegant gesture of indifference. "Very well. You have made your choice." she huffs, eyeing the scene before us. "I am so eager and willing to break you."

Lucian interjects casually, "Hey, I'm down for anything—dudes plowing each other? Kinda hot, honestly." He punctuates this with an exaggerated leer and eyebrow wiggle.

The queen titters are temporarily distracted. But her scrutiny swiftly returns to me. "You will learn to appreciate the pleasures I bestow, pet. In time."

Her smug certainty fuels my rage. But outwardly, I school my features into cool impassivity once more. "As you say...M y Queen ," I say through gritted teeth. I can feel my jaw crack from the pressure. The appellation tastes like ash on my tongue.

Another sharp slap cracks across my cheek for the rudeness in my tone. But even as scarlet welts form, I do not waver. The pain only hardens my resolve.

Her annoyance is palpable when she doesn't get a rise out of me. Her twisted entertainment can't shake me—not the way she wants. I keep my cool by hanging onto that inner sanctuary—I hold sacred space for my mate.

As Amara gets caught up, snickering and gossiping with Lucian, I've gotta admit—I owe him one. Lucian's got his game face on—charming the queen without throwing a punch. His sharp mind and silver tongue may be his secret weapons in this viper's nest.

He catches my glance, giving me that cheeky wink of his. I give him a tight nod; it's the closest thing I can muster to thanks. Crisis dodged—for the moment. But we've gotta stay sharp, not let anything about Danica slip, or we're screwed. Bullshitting's our best bet in this hellhole. Stay the course and wait for our shot.

Amara adjusts her gown. Holding a small blade, she approaches me. She traces a long nail down my cheek, across my jaw, and trails her finger down my neck. "I think it's your turn, pet."

The nauseating scent of her perfume mixed with the reek of sweat and cum. Bile surges in my throat, but I remain composed. My eyes bore coldly into hers, lips thinning in defiance. "No."

Her blade digs into my flesh, drawing blood. She grasps my crotch, rubbing cruelly against my dick. "You will obey your queen."

I remain defiant, unflinching as the blade slices deeper into my flesh. Amara issues a frustrated hiss. "Never," I spit in her face.

Amara viciously stabs the blade deep into my thigh. Burning pain spreads through my abdomen. I bellow, thrashing against the guards' hold.

She stares at me, dispassionate, watching me bleed out. "So be it."

Her threat hangs there, thick as fog. She's got it in her head to break me, make me her pet. But I am nobody's bitch.

The way she grins at me, all smug—it's like an icy grip around my spine.

Then the oak doors slam open, and in walks the King himself, Alinar. He's staring daggers. To him, it's just another twisted Tuesday in the cesspool; her sick sexcapades aren't even worth batting an eye.

He struts over to where she's perched, leans close, and whatever he whispers ticks her off something fierce.

She's on her feet quicker than lightning, all fuming and ready to blow. "Out! Leave us, now!" she shrieks.

Thank fuck , I think as I scramble to my feet, making for the doors. I can't leave this den of filth fast enough.

But before I get two steps, the guards are on me. Hissing in pain at the deep puncture wound in my thigh, watching as my dark vampiric blood slowly trickles from the gash.

The bitch got me good. Thankfully, no major arteries were severed, or this could have been problematic even for my supernatural healing ability. Still, it's a troublesome injury that weakens me. Once I'm finally free of this place, this sadistic bitch and I are going to have a very unpleasant reckoning for every unjust torment I've suffered...

"Stay put, slave!" One viciously twists my arms back and claps irons around my wrists. The metal bites deep, but not as deep as my urge to smash their ugly faces. Lucian gets the same treatment as they shove us from the room.

"Move, scum!" A guard clubs me hard across the shoulders.

As they frog march us down the endless hallway, I fantasize about all the ways I'll make these bastards suffer when I'm free. My fury's a caged beast straining at its leash.

We get to our rooms. The guard pushes the door open and tosses me in like I'm a damn sack of potatoes, the impact about shattering my side.

Next door, I catch the sound of Lucian getting the same warm 'fuck-you' as the locks snap closed, locking us in.

All by my lonesome, I'm struggling to shed this cursed collar like hell—the damn thing's stuck tight. Swearing, I punch the wall so hard it crumbles under my fist.

"Cool it with the temper tantrum, brother," Lucian's voice breaks through the wall.

"I am no one's goddamn lapdog!" I spit through clenched teeth.

He's right, the bastard. Mindless fury isn't going to get me anywhere. They play with control like it's their favorite fucking toy; it's about time I show them I'm not playing their game. I force myself to sit, hands shaking with the effort.

Lucian's voice comes again, calmer this time, filtering through the walls. "Alright, listen up, my fellow prisoner of this fetid shitpile masquerading as a dungeon. I know things look bleaker than a goth kid's poetry journal right now, but we can't let these crown-wearing asshats break our spirits."

There's a shuffling sound like he's shifting closer to the wall. "I mean, come on. We've got more brains between us than the entire royal family has in their inbred little pinky fingers. It's time we put those glorious gray matters to work and figure out a way to bust out of this dank hellhole."

Despite the direness of our situation, I can't help but snort out a laugh. TrustLucianto find a way to make even the most hopeless circumstances seem like just another adventure.

The perfect chance to escape will come. For now, patience and unity must suffice. But soon, this gilded prison will fucking shatter. I'll see if it's the last thing I do in this cesspool.

I've got a destiny waiting beyond these walls: beautiful caramel-gold eyes, a sweet, sensual woman. Nothing keeps a determined beast caged forever. And once we're free, there'll be hell to pay. I'll rain holy fire down on these shit-licking maggots.

That solemn promise keeps my fury chained—but just barely. Soon, it will be unleashed.