Chapter 8

The Necromancer

I'm running. Running through endless trees and leaping over lashing roots. They won't listen to me. They won't obey my commands. They trip and cut. Grab and twist. The earth hates me. I feel it. Feel its wrath and anger pouring from every leaf and branch. The soil wants to pull me in and bury me alive. It wants to consume me.

Keep running. Just run.

‘Get back here!'

I look back and see Cole closing in. He reaches out, controlling the earth and trees. He swipes, sending them at me.

‘Wife! Come here, wife!'

‘I am not your wife!' I scream. ‘I will never be your wife!'

A branch wraps around my neck and lifts me from the floor. I claw at it as it tightens and lifts me higher.

No. Not this!

The forest leaves us and becomes the damn podium where Synthia was killed. She stands beside Archie, and they both laugh and giggle. They swing me like a toy, pushing me higher and harder.

I can't breathe! I want to breathe!

He twirls her, and she falls into his arms, kissing him deeply. So in love. So besotted with each other. I swing close, and they watch me, smirking through the kiss they refuse to part from as they push me harder.

Swing.

The rope around my neck creaks and hands rest on my back as they push hard.

Swing.

Cole now stands on the other side of the gallows.

He laughs, and they all push me back and forth. Back and forth.

From below, roots break through the gallows and stretch towards me, and I scream as Cole forces them between my legs. I scream as I feel them go inside me.

And they keep on laughing and laughing.

And I keep on dying. Slowly and never-ending.

My hands reach for Archie. The tips of my fingers barely reach him before I swing back to Cole. The roots twist around my thigh and bury deeper inside me.

I want to scream. But I can't

I want to die. But I can't.

I fall from the rope and land on cobbled streets. It's night time, and the rain is falling hard. In the sky, lightning streaks overhead, illuminating the bone archway marking the entrance to a human village beyond its border.

Skulls and spines. Legs and hands. They're all crushed together and weathered. Countless empty eye sockets look at me. Watch me. Read me.

‘Blood witch,' they say.

Their voice an endless amount of whispers.

‘You should be here with us. You belong here with us.'

‘I'm not evil,' I reply, shaking my head as I stand beneath them all.

The arch trembles as if vibrating with anger. The bones shift. Their need to claim me and pull me in brings them to life.

I scream and shield my face as it explodes, and all manner of pieces soar straight towards me.

A hand rests on my shoulder. The rain is gone, and silence replaces the thunderstorm. I'm on my back, sinking into the softest green grass with a clear blue sky filled with wonderous bird song above me.

I struggle to breathe, wheezing and gasping as I lie here.

A figure blocks out the sun.

A man.

‘Dream Walker,' I gasp.

‘Pain in the arse,' he replies.

Shaw crouches over me and presses his hands over mine, pushing my palms into the deep, thick grass. His face rests over mine, and he looks stern yet calm.

‘Feel the earth, Pixie. And breathe.'

All I can do is shake my head. I can't breathe!

The rope. I feel it. The roots. Their invasion.

‘It's gone,' he insists, making sure that as he leans over me, his front and mine don't touch. ‘There's no rope. No Cole. No roots. Just us and the earth you love.' He blinks, never looking away from me. ‘It's a dream now. Not a nightmare. I've made you a dream.'

‘I thought… you were more of a nightmare,' I reply, recalling the first words he spoke when he dream walked with me for the first time.

He smiles and lets out a deep laugh.

‘I can still be a nightmare. Believe me.' He takes in a deep breath. ‘In,' he says, watching for me to copy. I manage a little jagged inhale. ‘Out.' He exhales, and I follow his command. ‘Good girl. Again. In.'

He repeats this several times until I finally get control of myself. Every second, every minute, I look at nothing but his eyes. And I'm all he sees. All that matters. I feel that, even in his dream world.

‘Archie and Sinthia were never like that, by the way. How you imagine them is far from the truth. That touchy-feely couple all giggles and smiles. That's your imagination. He was scared. In pain. And miserable. Just so you know. We weren't some happy and love struck group. More tormenters and tormented.'

He steps back.

‘Rest. Things will be safe by the time you wake up.'

‘Safe?'

He fades from sight, leaving me alone in an endless field and the softest breeze.

My pride refuses to ask him to stay. My pain and deep-rooted sense of betrayal hold back the words I long to say.

Stay with me. Lie with me. I don't want to be alone.

Instead, I lie on my side and pull my knees up to my chest.

He may have put me in a dream, but all I am inside is a nightmare.

Iwake with my face buried in wolf fur, feeling his warmth and the deep and powerful breaths he takes in his wolf form. We're still walking, and the rain has turned into a storm as real as the one in the dream about that bone arch.

I press my fingers into my thumb and count over and over, just as the Dream Walker taught me.

I'm unsure how long I've been on his back or how long I've been in the Dream Walker's dream world. Or how long it's been since Cole's attack. I shift. There's no pain between my legs, and my arm has recovered after being ripped from its socket.

The Shadow Master's blood healed the wounds, but I will feel that blade between my legs forever.

The forest thins and the ground becomes stone as we walk up the path. We're back inside the boundary, safe from any attacks. But I smell blood.

We pass a body. An unseelie left gutted in the grass.

‘They reached the castle,' the Shadow Master surmises. ‘That can't be good. Hold back for a minute, Arch,' he says. ‘I'll talk to him first.'

Lifting my head, I watch him walk on and then hear the Dream Walker's voice. They talk in indistinct whispers.

‘I didn't mean to,' I whisper, clinging to the fur beneath me.

That's all I seem to be able to say.

‘I didn't mean to run. To bite him the way I did or hit Leo. It all happened so fast.'

I can't take the Dream Walker's anger. I can't face being put down in the cells they put me in last time.

The Wolf looks back at me and runs his tongue up my bare leg again, licking it in comfort and clearing it of dirt and blood.

With a blink, the Shadow Master is stood in front of me. Gently, he takes me in his arms and carries me inside. The Wolf shifts back to his human form and follows.

I keep my eyes closed and buried in his chest, dreading where he will be taking me. It's not to the doors leading to the cells, but it's not up to my room either.

It's towards the room the Wolf was demolishing earlier.

I pass the Dream Walker, holding the door open. Once we're all inside, he closes it. The gentle click was a far cry from the slamming I expected.

I'm lowered onto the bed, but I can't deal with the space. The light. The world.

I slide to the floor and crawl to the underside of the bed placed in here, desperate for the dark and the quiet. No one bothers to argue. I think they're all as traumatised as I am by what Cole just did to me. At how close he and Neve's unseelie got to getting me.

The ground is pure soil, and I feel the soothing ebbs of the magic below. A few plants are brought in from outside, and rough patches of grass and moss are dotted about.

The pillows and blankets from upstairs have been placed beneath, and lanterns sit by each bedpost. I'm in the fetal position and focusing on my breathing as they continue to talk to one another.

‘You certain she's healed?'

‘She is, Shaw, ' the Shadow Master replies. ‘Physically, anyway. You?'

‘I'm fine.'

‘They attacked the house?'

‘Yep.'

‘They get inside?'

He sighs. ‘Yes. They got inside.'

There's a knock at the door, and Leo steps inside.

‘Thought you'd want to know. Six of ours are dead, and two more have done a runner. And there are three dead unseelie in the grounds.' He shuffles his feet. ‘And I'm afraid they took the dark-haired one from the cellar.'

The wardrobe door gets a damn good kick, and my entire body jumps. The Dream Walker's livid.

‘The blonde one?' the wolf asks.

‘They didn't get her. She's still down there. She was locked up tight.'

‘Now is not the time to be talking about that!' the Dream Walker warns. ‘Leo. You let the barrier fall.'

‘Because your blood-drinking girlfriend knocked me the fuck out, Shaw. If I'd had known she was as strong as she was, I would have been more cautious.'

‘Is it back up now?' the Wolf asks.

‘Of course.'

‘Thanks, Leo. Best you go.'

‘Sure. Let me know if you need anything else.'

The door closes.

The Dream Walker slumps on the bed as the room falls silent. The tension is so thick it's almost suffocating.

The brunette? Who is the brunette they took? And who is the blonde they left behind?

‘He fucked her with the moon dagger,' he hisses. ‘Our girl. Our fucking girl. He dares!'

‘He'll get what's coming, Shaw. Next time, we'll take more than his hand from him. That's a promise,' the Shadow Master says. ‘We got her back. That's the main thing.'

‘She never should have run in the first fucking place.'

I don't have the strength to listen. My hands cover my ears as I face the other way, and I curl up, trying not to cry.

I watch him walk around to the other side of the bed. The Dream Walker kneels and looks down at me.

He wags his finger, beckoning me out.

I shake my head.

With a heavy sigh, he lies down on the floor and squeezes in underneath, lying beside me. His frame is so broad that he has to lie on his back with his head tilted in my direction just to fit.

He doesn't say anything. Doesn't try and drag me out or pull my hands away. He just looks at me as I cover my ears. He's still in the same clothes he was in when I bit him. His shirt is heavily stained with blood. The man doesn't even blink as he slowly breathes and stares into my soul. His jaw is tense, and nothing about him says calm or forgiving.

‘I didn't mean to bite you like that,' I tell him. ‘I don't know what happened. It wasn't me. I had no control.'

His response is simply a deep and calming breath.

‘And I wasn't running from you. I… I was… I don't even know. I don't even remember running.'

He slowly blinks.

‘It was my fault. I ran, and he got me. I shouldn't have-'

He pulls my hands away from my ears and grips my fingers in his. ‘Ashe. Listen to me.'

‘Don't,' I whisper. ‘Don't call me Ashe.'

‘That is your name.'

‘That's the name they called me,' I tell him.

‘They?'

I swallow the urge to cry and nod. ‘My father who tortured a trigger into me. Beat me. Humiliated me. Drugged me with wine so I would be pliant and obedient. It's what Cole calls me.' My voice shakes, and my legs press together as I remember the dagger he pushed inside me. ‘It's what my coven called me as they tied me up and cut me.' I'm about to come apart. ‘Don't call me that name. They gave me that name, and I want nothing from them. Just don't call me that name. Anything but that name.'

‘Okay. Okay. Just take a breath and try to calm down.'

He shuffles closer, resting his forehead on mine as I repeat that sentence.

‘Don't call me that name. Don't call me that name.'

‘Breathe,' he says, pressing my palm into the dirt beneath us. ‘Feel the earth magic around you and let it help.'

I do. I focus on my breathing and the earth's magic that the Wolf spent the day exposing with his axe. All around us, life begins to bloom. Moss and grass. Flowers and vines. They cover the walls and ceiling. Great, vibrant coloured petals open wide, and their scent fills the room. The dirt beneath us becomes soft and lush, and mounds rise under the bed posts, lifting the bed higher to give him some more room.

He rolls onto his side and doesn't look away from me, but I hear the two others gasp in awe at the transformation of the room.

‘See what you can do when you're in harmony with the magic instead of allowing your anger and hatred to take control? This is you, Pixie. The true way of your soul. It's beautiful and powerful. It's life. Not ripping out my throat and attacking us.'

‘Punish me tomorrow,' I whisper. ‘I can't take anymore today.'

‘I'm not going to punish you,' he assures me. ‘Hey. Look at me.' He takes my chin and lifts it. He still looks furious, but it eases when I meet his gaze. ‘The only one I want to hurt is Cole. And we will for what he just did to you.'

‘I didn't mean to run. I couldn't breathe.'

‘I know. It was my fault.' He pulls a blanket over me and tucks my hair behind my ear. ‘I was pushing you before you were ready. I take full responsibility for your reaction today.' My lip trembles. He settles it by running his thumb along it. ‘You're not in trouble. Now. I want to help you sleep. Is that okay? I'll make sure you have no nightmares.'

I nod.

‘Will you stay?' I ask.

Dorian's arm wraps around me from behind, his face buried in my neck. ‘Poppet Doll,' he says firmly. ‘We're here.'

‘We've got you, Pixie.' Shaw kisses my knuckles.

Archie shuffles up by my feet and rests his head on my thighs. He hugs my legs. ‘And we're never letting you go.'

‘I didn't mean to strike Leo and destroy the barrier. They're dead because of me.' I start to cry. The pain is becoming too much. ‘I'm not even using my blood magic, and I'm getting others killed. I'm evil. My mother is evil, and I'm evil.'

‘Don't cry,' Archie whispers, holding me tighter. ‘I hate it when you cry.'

I just sob. Such a pathetic display, considering how utterly raging I have been these weeks.

‘I'm evil. I'm a monster. Even when I'm trying not to be.'

‘Make her sleep, Shaw,' Dorian says. ‘She's torturing herself.'

Shaw blows sleep dust in my face.

My crying grows weaker as my body falls limp.

And I drift into endless meadows and brilliantly blue skies.

Bird song brings me back to the waking world. I'm still under the bed, resting on a thick layer of moss and clover. Dorian and Shaw are gone, and it takes a minute to realise that Archie is still here, lazily running his tongue along my bare thigh. I peer down at him and watch as he closes his eyes and helps himself to the remnants of blood from my encounter with Cole's knife. He catches me looking and smiles.

‘Morning, Pix,' he greets. ‘How are you feeling?'

‘Are we just going to pretend you weren't licking old blood off my legs?' I ask.

‘If you like.' He plants a kiss on my inner thigh and winks. His features soon become more sad. ‘How are you feeling?' he asks.

When my familiar slithers out from my sleeve, he flinches so hard his head collides with the underside of the bed.

I slide out and sit, listening to him groan in pain as I rest my back against the bed frame. No part of me is ready or willing to answer that question right now, and I'm thankful to my little snake that she distracted him enough for me to get out of that tight space. When I see the room, I have the perfect change of conversation.

It's become a wild garden.

The windows have been opened, and birds have even come inside. Archie sits cross-legged in front of me, his head tilted to one side as he looks at me, reading me in a way I'll never understand. The chain is still around my neck, but I'm untethered.

Captured. But free.

My familiar slithers away, inspecting the space for herself. He doesn't take his eyes off her.

‘You have made this place a wonder,' I tell him.

‘I only revealed the soil and planted a few bulbs and shoots.' He gestures around the room. ‘This is all you.'

‘Me?' I ask. ‘I can barely keep myself from being buried alive.'

‘You did it, Pix. You brought all of this to life over the last couple of days. Clever little witch.' He sits cross-legged, eyes wide with child-like wonder as he looks up at the walls and ceilings. Vines hang from above. Climbing plants scale the walls, blooming with vibrant colours. And the smells. Such floral scents so powerful I can taste them. It's a whole different world, sealed up in this room.

‘Couple of days?' I repeat.

‘Yeah. You've been sleeping. We wanted to get you cleaned up, but every time we tried to move you, thorny vines would seal you up under here.'

‘A bath has been run for you. It might be a tad cold now, but I seem to recall you somewhat enjoying the wild waters of the lakes and streams, so I don't think you will mind it being a bit chilly. I'll help you wash and get you in some fresh clothes.'

He nods to the corner of the room where a brass bathtub sits. Moss has grown all around it, and a blue pond lily has bloomed in the waiting water.

‘You hauled a tub down here?'

‘It was a team effort,' he shrugs.

‘I've also noticed the bed is rather larger than the one I had before.'

‘It needs to fit four. So yes. It's considerably larger.'

He smirks, waiting for my reply. I don't have the energy for banter today.

‘Can I ask you something?' I ask.

‘Of course. I might not answer, but you can always ask.'

‘Who was Leo talking about? The brunette and the blonde? Was he talking about Thalia?'

‘No. He was talking about some old friends we were looking after. It's nothing to worry about.'

I know that's all I'm going to get.

‘How many are left in the castle?'

‘Half dozen, maybe. And us.' He blinks as he waits for my next question.

‘If I ask you something else, will you promise not to tell the others I asked?'

His eyes narrow.

‘If you say no, I want you to promise not to tell them I even asked.' He still doesn't answer. ‘If you agree, I'll fuck you,' I add.

‘No. Don't say shit like that, okay? You don't need to be bartering your body for anything. Ask me, Pix. Even if I say no, I won't say shit.'

I shift, unsure if I should ask. But it's not like things can get much worse.

‘I want to look at the blood grimoire.'

‘No.' He barely lets me finish speaking before delivering his definitive reply. ‘No way. Not happening. Never.'

‘I just want to look at it. That's all.'

‘We learnt our lesson, okay? You're not touching it again.'

‘You're the ones that made me read from it in the first place,' I argue.

‘Yeah. And you fucking died, Pix. As I said. Lesson learnt.'

‘I died because Neve snapped my neck.'

‘Because you brought her back from the dead by using that grimoire.' He shakes his head. ‘Nope. No way.'

I reach into the pocket of Dorian's coat that I'm still wearing and slam down Cole's severed hand between us.

‘Strange thing to keep in your pocket, Pix.'

‘The grimoire contains spells. I could use his hand to track him. Or maybe even hurt him or kill him. I don't know, but I'm sure I could use something in there. If we find him, we find Neve.'

‘And then what?' he asks simply. ‘You take on the blood queen and the earth coven leader, along with an army of unseelie creatures? With blood magic?'

‘I'll use earth magic.'

‘Then use the earth grimoire when we get it back.'

‘We kill Neve, and the unseelie will go back underground.' He scoffs at my words. ‘We can't just sit here and wait for them to strike. Again. Or she will go after the covens or the humans. And when she does, people and witches will die.'

‘That's what people and witches tend to do. They die. But I'm not slapping a bow on your head and handing you over.'

‘But-'

‘It's gone, Pix! Okay?! When Neve attacked, she got a hold of the blood grimoire. She took it. It's. Gone!'

My breath catches, and I run cold from my head to my toes.

Gone? The blood grimoire is fucking gone?!

‘We didn't want to worry you. Okay? We promised we would protect you, and we let you down. Again. Neve has the grimoire, and that's the end of it. I can't give it to you, and even if I could, I wouldn't.'

The next thing I pull out from the pocket is the dagger. It rattles as it hits the floor. The hilt is encrusted with my blood. He pales a little as his eyes slowly lift from that to me.

‘He wasn't trying to kill me, you know,' I tell him. ‘That's not what stabbing me there was all about.' He can't even look at it. ‘He did it to ruin me. To damage my womanhood because that's all the earth coven sees in females. Breeding and fucking. Take that away, and we're pointless. He probably doesn't know I heal as I do, so he's sitting somewhere, smug as shit, thinking he has taken away my worth to you. That I will never want to be touched again or that I'm so torn up you won't ever want to come near me.'

‘Well, that's not true. I'd fuck you even if your kitty cat were inside out and upside down.'

‘My "kitty cat"? What the hell are you talking about?'

‘Yeah. You know.' He nods down. ‘Your foof. Your honey pot. Your secret flower of delight.'

‘I have no idea what you are talking about.'

‘Your pussy, Pix. I'm talking about your pussy.'

‘Please never refer to my vagina as a kitty cat again. The only cats I knew at the coven were stinky, wild and flea-infested things. I don't want that image in my head when we're talking about my bits.'

His nose scrunches up as he looks between my legs.

‘Fair point.' He looks up at me, his brows raised. ‘How about-'

‘Whatever you're about to say… no. Just… No.'

‘Well. I love it no matter what.'

‘Well. I appreciate that, Wolf. I do.'

‘Anytime, Pix. And quit calling us by those names, would you? It's demeaning.'

‘Like you calling me mud witch or blood whore?'

‘That's different.' He folds his arms across his chest and sits back, looking up at the canopy of green. ‘It's cute or sexy when we do it.'

I slump.

Cole isn't done. Neve hasn't even started. And they think I'm going to stand a chance with nothing but my earth magic and untrained skills.

‘I'm going to ask you again. How are you feeling?' he urges.

‘I'm fine,' I tell him. ‘All healed.'

‘If you want to talk about it-'

‘I love my body. It's mine and will always belong to me. Cole is the last person on this planet who will ever take that away from me.' I stand and head to the tub. ‘I'm fine.'

I slide off the coat and sink beneath the water. Looking up, I see Archie sitting himself on the bath's edge.

‘I'm curious about something,' I say.

‘As long as it's not about blood magic. Hit me.'

‘The Banshee.'

‘What about her?'

‘She made you out as an unhinged and barbaric sex monster with no limits. Why?'

‘Because I didn't love her.'

‘So she lied about you?'

‘Oh no. She didn't lie.' He takes some soap and starts washing my back. ‘I didn't care about her, so I did what I wanted for my own pleasure.'

‘Like what?' I ask, very intrigued as to what that may look like.

‘Probably best I don't say.'

‘I'm asking. I'm ready to hear it.'

He tugs my hair a little, pulling my head back.

‘I'll answer you if you answer one of my questions. Deal?'

‘What question?'

‘Do we have a deal, Pix?'

‘We have a deal,' I agree.

I can always lie.

‘Well,' he breathes, releasing my hair and working some lotions into it. ‘One time, I fucked her in my wolf form.'

Slowly, I look back at him, utterly horrified. I've seen him in his wolf form. That part of him is somewhat hard to miss.

‘Why the hell would you do that?' I ask. ‘Why would she?'

‘Just fancied seeing what would happen, I guess.' He continues washing my hair as I face forward. The scrunch on my face isn't going anywhere. But I'm curious. I turn back to him.

‘And what did happen?'

‘I mean…' He shrugs. ‘Not a lot. I spent most of the time trying to fit. She kept making these fake as fuck moaning noises which sounded ridiculous and put me off. She managed about ten inches before I got bored and shifted back to finish up.'

Ten inches of giant wolf dick?

No thanks. My thighs clench together at the thought.

‘Promise me you'll never do that with me.'

‘I assure you,' he scoffs. ‘I will not do that with you. It sounded fun, but in reality, it was a right mood killer.'

‘What else did you do?'

‘Well, there was an incident with her and another female who had this spiked tail. The female was riding the banshee's mouth as I fucked the banshee, and the tail was right up my-'

‘Ok. No more. Curiosity satisfied!'

He shrugs, his fingers massage my scalp, and floral-scented soap slips down my body.

Pushing that image out of my head, I close my eyes and try to relax.

‘This feels nice,' I sigh, enjoying my little massage.

‘Good.' He pushes down my shoulders. ‘Un tense. You'll get sore muscles otherwise.' He uses the soap from my hair and massages it into my shoulders. Damn, it feels so good. ‘You heard me when I was a wolf, Pix. You heard me, didn't you?'

‘Yeah.' I shrug. ‘Was I not supposed to?'

He continues washing my hair.

‘My turn,' he says. ‘Ready for my question?'

‘Hmmmm…' I reply, lost in the pleasure of his fingers working my muscles. ‘Hit me.'

‘And just so you know, if you lie, I'll know.'

‘Just ask the question, wolfy.'

‘A while ago, you asked why it was that men enjoyed making little girls cry.'

I tense again, and he lowers my shoulders once more.

‘You also said that "everyone has a friend or someone that they owe".'

‘Is there a question in there?' I ask.

He leans down so he's at eye level with me.

‘Why did you say that? Who were you talking about? Did someone hurt you, Pix?'

‘That's three questions. You only have one. I'll answer the last one. Yes. My father was a bastard. Happy?'

‘That's not answer enough. I know your father was a bastard, but this is something deeper than that. Tell me why you said those things. The truth now. Or I'll know.'

‘Kiss my familiar, and I'll tell you,' I reply smugly.

There's no way he will. He's terrified of her.

The fucker scoops her up from the grass, and kisses her right on the nose, releases her and lets out the most exaggerated and violent shudder I've ever seen.

He sits back on the edge of the bath and faces me with a smug smirk.

‘Done. Tell me.'

I busy myself with the soap, rubbing it over my arms and fingers, cleaning off the dirt and blood, and being sure to avoid all eye contact with him.

‘You said you would answer me. I will use my mark if I must. I mean-'

‘Growing up,' I start, cutting him off and speaking before I give myself a chance to stop. ‘Females were taught their place. What was expected of us. Keep quiet. Keep sweet. Satisfy.'

‘Satisfy?'

He takes my chin and makes me look at him when I remain silent. ‘Go on.'

‘Part of our education as females was… well… we needed to be prepared for the men of the coven and their expectations. For what would happen on rite night and the nights after.' I shudder as I think of it.

‘And they prepared you how exactly?'

‘We would watch.'

‘Watch?'

‘Yeah. We would watch the men with a female. She was pretty. The one I watched.' I remember her well. All of her. ‘She had this copper hair that fell to her lower back and these real pretty green eyes. She must have been seventeen, if that.' He scoops up some water and trickles it over my shoulders. He doesn't push me to continue. His silence makes it easier to keep talking. ‘She tried to leave the coven the night before she was to add her blood to the fire. She attempted to run.' I swallow dryly. ‘She didn't get far. We never get far. Those stones surrounding our village kept us well and truly contained.' I look up at him. ‘But we heard rumours as children, you know? If you soak yourself in salt water, you'll pass through. Or if you eat a bowl of rotten apples and spin counter clockwise twenty times, you can get past the stones. A hundred rumours. A hundred lies. Some tried. All got caught. She was no different. The girl with the fire-coloured hair. They got her at the barrier and dragged her back. She refused to add her blood. So they put her to work teaching us instead.'

‘What did that look like?' he asks calmly.

‘One of the males of the coven screwing her in ways he enjoyed as we watched.'

His hands slow again, and I feel him watching me. I rest my chin on my tucked-in knees and carry on.

‘I remember watching how the males were with her. They were so rough and aggressive. They didn't give a damn what she wanted. They pounded into her relentlessly and hardly looked at her. She winced all the time as they pawed at her and used her. "You never say no. This is your job". "Never complain. If it hurts, that's okay". And my personal favourite. "You're not supposed to enjoy this". She would bleed and cry, and we would sit there as they made her get in different positions. On her back. On top. On all fours. They would make us get close and watch him penetrate her, showing exactly what went where.'

‘How old were you when this was going on?'

‘The first time, I was eight. Nine, maybe. They teach us young, not just what is expected of us. But what we should expect if we said no.'

‘That… that is not okay.'

‘No shit.' I rest my cheek on my knees and look at him. His face is easy to read. There's a deep concern and disgust. It's a comfort to see him feel that way. To know that I'm not the only one who saw how wrong it is. ‘I always remember how they would go harder the more she suffered. How when she cried, they would smile. How her discomfort spurred them on, and how they told us it was normal to be in pain. Once, she tried to touch herself, and they smacked her around the face so hard one of her teeth fell out. Sex seemed like a punishment for us and a sport for them. I'm convinced they brought in males that had a problem with her because there was just so much anger and hatred.'

‘Did they ever touch you?' he asks through a clenched jaw. ‘The truth.'

‘No. I was being saved for Cole, remember?'

‘How could I forget.'

‘You took my virginity.' I look back at him and smile. ‘You were great.'

And he was. He was skilled and made sure I got to where I needed to be. I felt safe. A strange idea now, I guess. After everything. He took my virginity, knowing I would end up in that circle of blood. That I may not end up with a soul.

I look away from him again, reminding myself that although I may be playing nice, he is not to be trusted. And neither am I.

He starts rinsing my hair. ‘Now tell me about the friends.'

‘That's a third question.'

‘What do you want in return?'

‘An I. O. U.,' I peer back at him. ‘When I make a request, you have to honour it.'

‘Within reason.'

‘You want to know or not, dog boy?'

He tugs on my hair again, making me laugh as he chuckles at my insult. He gets a wooden comb and starts brushing the knots from my hair. It feels so relaxing being groomed like this. I could sit here for hours.

‘You have a deal, Pix. Tell me.'

‘My father liked to gamble. He also had a habit of losing.' I wonder if telling is the right choice. What do I care? There's no reason to hold it back, and if it gives me something I want in the future, then that's fine with me. ‘I was seen as something special because of who I was to marry. Debts were often forgiven if I kissed them. Or used my hands on them.'

His hands go rigid and still.

‘Go on.'

‘I'd be sat on their lap. Given cuddles. Their hands would wander. And their tongues forced themselves into my mouth. And sometimes, when my father and his friends got bored of cards, they would bet on me. They would lock me in the cellar beneath the house and bet on how long it would be until I pounded on the door to be let out. My father had this great big mirror down there, and the spirits I would see inside it… Gods…' I sigh. ‘They were so angry… so full of pain.' My eyes suddenly burn with tears. ‘They had no idea I was screaming because of the spirits. They thought I was claustrophobic or afraid of the dark.' I look at my fingers. ‘I tore off so many fingernails trying to get out of that room. The marks are still there now, scratches deep in the door. They stopped when I was about fourteen. Got bored, maybe. Or realised that if I told Cole, they'd all be in trouble. The more I screamed, the more they laughed. The more I pleaded to be let out, the longer they kept me down there. So I would hide. There was an old bed down there, and I found that if I got under it, the spirits couldn't see me. I would curl up and close my eyes. I would cover my ears. And they wouldn't touch me. I was safe.'

I wriggle, and he continues combing my hair.

‘Does that answer your questions?' I ask. ‘Are you satisfied, or would you like some more horror stories about my past?'

‘I'm good,' he replies dryly. ‘You've answered my questions.'

‘I hope it was as fulfilling as you hoped.'

He stands and tosses the comb at the wall, shattering it into splinters.

His back faces me as he drags his fingers through his hair, and he takes a few deep breaths. The muscles in his arms are rigid, and when they fall at his side, his fists are clenched so hard I smell blood where his fingernails have dug into his palms.

I guess that sometimes, the truth of a painful past is enough to disturb even the most insane of men. He walks around a little, perhaps thinking on my confessions.

The water is suddenly cold as I remember those nights. Remember who they made me sit on. How they tasted of tobacco and spirits.

How they fed me skullcap wine to keep me compliant and docile.

I look out the window, loathing how I suddenly feel dirty all over. How my skin bristles and panic swells in my chest.

I mean, if a dagger shoved between my legs won't put them off me, finding out I was used up long before they met me may give them all the nudge to see me for what I am.

A damaged whore.

Maybe then, they will let me go.

The water sloshes as he climbs in behind me. His arms wrap around me as he leans back, pulling me with him and pinning me to his chest. He's fully clothed, and his skin gets bumpy from the chill of the water. But despite that, he buries his face in my neck and hair as his arms hold me close.

‘I love you.'

‘I told you not to tell me that again.'

‘And I told you that you don't get a say in that. I know you think I'll look at you differently. But I won't. I know a part of you hoped it would make me disgusted and have me looking at you differently. Guess what?' He leans into my ear and whispers. ‘It made me love you even more because you have been through the nine circles of hell, and you are still fierce, caring, funny and wild.'

‘Stop being nice to me.'

‘I will be needing names, Pix. Of every man who ever laid their hands on you.'

‘I don't remember.'

‘Yes. You do. And I'll be getting those names at some point. Every single one.' His lips kiss my cheek, and he trails his fingers up and down my arms. ‘Thank you for sharing that with me. It can't have been easy for you.'

‘You didn't give me much of a choice.'

‘True. That seems to be a theme with us, doesn't it?'

Yes. Sadly, it does.

And yet, I lean back and close my eyes, finding peace in this monster's arms.