26. Livana

Chapter 26

Livana

I t hurts to walk, but as the days pass, I do my best to drag myself from the bed to the bathing chamber and back again. The damned silver bracelets still cling to my skin, and I'm almost numb to their effect now. I've lost count of how long it's been since the prince spoke to me that first night, but from the cracks in my lips and the aches in my joints and muscles, I know I'm near starvation.

Just like he promised, the prick.

I shouldn't have flown off at the mouth, but damn me, it's who I am .

Collector core come and check on me once in the morning and once in the evening, only bringing me water and ensuring I haven't thrown myself from the balcony.

The thought has crossed my mind. More than once. Especially as the nights grow long and my stomach feels like it's gnawing itself from the inside out. My fangs ache but are unable to distend at this point, and I live in a constant state of fog, never knowing what's real and what isn't.

There's only one thing that keeps me from flinging myself to my death, and that's the thought of my Linked and my Matched.

Of getting vengeance.

The prince told me my Linked would be okay if I behaved, yet one slip of the tongue and he hasn't come back? Does he give up that easily?

Maybe he's testing me.

Maybe he's watching me and I don't know.

Maybe he's curious how long a succubus can go without feeding.

I stumble around my room, doing my best to distract myself with the books that line the shelves. I'm not sure which Collected quarters these were before they threw me in here, but we have similar reading tastes.

There are books in here I'm sure the Collector doesn't even know about—historical tomes containing cultural studies on the Four Houses of Old.

I thought the Collector burned all historical texts highlighting the old world before The Great Purge, but maybe that's only for commoners. Maybe people in his inner circle have the privilege of reading our continent's histories without fear of being beheaded in the town square.

I grab a tome now, reaching up for it on one of the higher shelves, my fingers just grazing the spine as I pull it down and sink into the chair next to the shelves. I've barely cracked it open when my heartbeat stutters.

I sit ramrod straight, like the action will force my heart to take the correct path.

It doesn't.

The book slips through my fingers, numbness spreading from my fingertips outward until I can't feel my hands.

Shit .

I suck in a deep breath, an ache starting at the top of my head and radiating down my neck. My breathing grows shallow as my heart gallops at an unsustainable speed.

My chest grows tight and my stomach turns as the backs of my jaws tingle, my body begging me for sustenance. Begging for desire and blood and, most of all, my medication.

The bastards took my satchel and have ignored my pleas for return of just the meds alone.

My entire body shakes as I struggle to take a full breath. The edges of my vision start to blur, and I slip off my chair, slumping against the floor. I try to stand, try to move , but I can't.

This is it. My heart has finally decided it's done with me.

I roll to my back, doing my best to keep my eyes open as I stare at the ceiling high above me. One heavy hand drops to my hip, covering it protectively. I can't believe I'm going to die here, making everything I've ever done before this pointless. An utter fucking failure.

My heart stutters again, tripping over itself before reclaiming its sprint.

My breaths are only wisps of air now, the numbness now traveling lower past my hips and down my thighs.

I'm so cold. So very cold?—

"Swallow," I hear the commanding tone from somewhere deep in the back of my mind, and I do as the voice says. I nearly cry out in relief as the slightly sweet taste of the powder Sirius created for me hits the back of my tongue, sliding down my throat.

The magic concoction works its way through my body, spreading its warm tendrils wide and waking up every numb piece of me.

I'm no longer cold. Instead, I'm downright hot as I sit on something warm and comforting. The smell of smoke and sandalwood and some hint of floral oil hits my senses, and I take a full deep breath, reveling in the smell. Another flavor hits my tongue, a weak and subtle note of desire, like spun sugar and citrus.

I try to drink it in, but it's like trying to breathe through a straw, and the frustration of not getting what I need has clarity snapping through my fog-addled mind.

I snap my eyes open, taking stock of my heart, and being thankful for its normal rhythm.

It takes me a few seconds to adjust to the darkness in the room, only a lone candling flickering on the mahogany table next to us.

Us.

Because I am not sitting in the armchair next to the books.

I'm sitting in the lap of the prince in the armchair next to the books.

I immediately scramble off of his lap, glaring at him as I stumble to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between the two of us as I can.

Those silver eyes track the move with amusement, and he crosses one long leg over the other as he surveys me. He holds up one of my vials, a fourth of the powder left in the corked glass bottle.

"You know, after saving your life, this isn't the reaction I expected." He waves the vial in front of him, illustrating the space I put between us.

"You haven't saved my life," I fire back, but do my best to breathe and quell the rage rippling inside me. The bastard had me in his lap !

But he hand-fed me my meds. Was that just good timing, or had he been waiting for me to reach my breaking point before he swooped in with what I needed?

"No?" he asks, rolling the bottle between his fingers before setting it on the table next to him.

My shoulders drop, and I remember I'm supposed to be playing a role.

I'm supposed to be a good little pet, and snapping at him likely isn't the right way to do that. But fuck me, he took me by surprise.

"No," I say in a much softer tone, slowly walking to the edge of the bed and sinking atop it. The simple act of standing is difficult, and the last thing I want is to pass out in front of him. Again .

"From what I felt," he says, his eyes trailing down to the center of my chest, as if he can see my heart beating there. "Your heart was about to sputter out."

I furrow my brow, remembering the power he'd used to knock me out. Could that same power sense what's happening in my body? A shiver races down my spine. My main focus has been the Collector for so long, I'm realizing that I'm severely underprepared to deal with the prince.

"The medication helps my heart," I say. "But..." I do my best to wet my cracked lips, but I'm so thirsty for things water will never slake.

"Oh, yes," he says. "My succubus is starving. Forgive me, I've been away on business."

I curl my lips at him, wishing I could dig my nails into his throat. "You would think that if you were going to covet creatures to keep as your pets, you would at least feed us properly."

Irritation and anger shift over his brutally handsome face, but he smooths it out quickly. "I'm here to remedy that now."

Apprehension blooms in my chest.

"You need to feed," he says.

"I do," I answer.

He visibly swallows, uncrossing his leg and leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he looks at me. "I'll allow you to feed from me."

"Never," I immediately answer. "I will never feed from you."

He leans back in the chair, shrugging. "Then it will be interesting to watch you die. How long do you think it will take?"

My stomach turns. Starvation already triggered an attack, and my snarky mouth is about to dig my grave for me.

"How many times do you think I can bring you back from the brink of death with this little magic concoction you have?" he asks. "How do you think that will feel? Your heart almost ending your suffering only for me to bring you back to life to do it all over again?"

Ice fills my veins. The fear is so palpable I almost give in. I almost drop to my knees and beg him for even one swallow of his blood.

But I tip my chin, feeling like this is more a game of wits than anything, and even though I'm severely at a disadvantage, I can't help but try and play. He must be bored, never being challenged. Maybe that's why he kept me after all.

"From what I understand," I say, calm and collected. "You've wanted a succubus for a very long time."

The prince carefully places his hands on the armrests of the chair, leaning back slightly, his thighs parting in a confident way. "I have."

"And now you have one," I say, forcing myself to meet his eyes. They look like pools of smoke. "Not only a succubus, but a tress." I hold up my wrists showing off the silver bracelets for emphasis. "I'm quite rare, maybe even the rarest. Your father doesn't even have someone like me, does he, my prince?"

He narrows his gaze at me, but I hold my smooth expression, hoping I'm correct in assuming there's a bit of competition between him and his father. Isn't there always between males?

"Gray," he says, and I tilt my head. "I am not your prince . My name is Gray."

Something about him telling me his name and demanding I use it feels like a victory. Small, but a win nonetheless.

"Gray," I say in the most seductive tone I possess in my state. "Would you agree that I'm rare enough to be important to you? Important to your collection?"

A muscle in his jaw tenses, but he dips his head just slightly. "You are important to me."

"Then you really don't want me to die," I say. "I need more than blood. I need desire. Not just any blood and desire, I need my Linked."

"You're capable of feeding from those that aren't your Linked," he says matter-of-factly. "I'm quite versed on succubus culture. But nice try."

"You're correct," I say, doing my best to not let the anger slip into my tone. "I wasn't implying that I couldn't, more so that I won't ."

His lips form a tight line. "You belong to me," he says. "You will feed from me or you will die."

I swallow hard. "I will feed from my Linked," I say, doing my best to present a confident bravado when I feel like I'm slipping down an icy slope. "Or you'll have a dead tress on your hands. How will your father feel about that? You said he was interested in me. Why he kept me alive and gave me to you."

He stares me down, studying the lines of my face like he's looking for a weak spot.

I show him nothing but an unmovable facade I hope to fuck I can hold on to.

He sighs, the smallest smile peeking at the corner of his mouth. He stands up, striding across the room, his long gait eating up the space between us in a few strides.

"Fair enough," he says, gently clutching my arm and pulling me off the bed. "We'll revisit this conversation another night," he continues, practically dragging me toward the door, throwing it open as we walk into the hallway. "It'll be much more fun when you're begging to feed from me."

"That's never going to happen," I say as we weave through the palace until we reach a stone spiral staircase that leads us deep beneath the palace.

"You keep saying never," he says.

"Because it's true," I fire back, unable to stop leaning into him as we spin down and down, my weak muscles barely holding me up. He doesn't let me fall. I'm sure he doesn't want his precious pet marked up.

"Never is a ridiculous promise to make when you're mine forever ."

A sharp retort dies on my tongue as we clear the steps, pressure in my ears from how deep underground we are. Torches are lit, hanging from the walls and illuminating cell after cell after cell, iron bars and the unmistakable smell of magic soaking the stone walls.

Most of the cells are empty as he leads me down two more hallways before stopping in front of?—

"Liv!" Jagger is on his feet in seconds as he rushes to the bars.

Zev releases a low growl right behind him.

"Back up, both of you," Gray demands in a voice that's so different from the one he'd been using with me—this one is icy and laced with a threatening power.

My Linked look me over quickly before doing as they're told, stepping back until their spines are against the wall.

Gray holds his hand out over a lock on the iron bars, a soft black light illuminating for a few seconds before the door groans open. He tugs me past him and then releases me. I stumble into the cell, the sound of the bars clanging shut behind me as I fall into Jagger's arms.

"You have ten minutes," Gray says, but I don't bother looking behind me. "Take what you need from them."

Zev and Jagger immediately have their hands on me—Zev behind me, Jagger in front, the two looking me over, searching for injuries they won't find. My body comes to life at their touch, a flood of warmth and comfort as our bonds strengthen and blaze at the proximity.

"Livana," Zev practically growls in my ear. "You have to let us go," he says in a whisperer.

I whirl around to face him. "What?"

"He's right, dove," Jagger says from behind me. "We can't be the weapons they use against you."

I shift between them, looking at them both. "You don't get to make decisions like that for me," I say. "You chose me, remember?" I ask. "That means you have to trust me."

"Says the female who doesn't trust anyone," Zev fires back, one powerful hand skimming along the silk covering me. The only clothes I have in my room are these little silk nightgowns, this one black as opposed to red.

He's not entirely wrong, but we don't have time to argue about my trust issues right now.

"You're starving," Jagger says, glaring at the front of the cell where Gray waits.

"They haven't been feeding you?" Zev growls.

I shake my head, my eyes burning at the relief of being next to them. Being able to touch and be touched by them. I'd forgotten how incredibly painful it is to be separated from my Linked, and even now it seems more potent somehow. As if the connections I formed with Zev and Jagger are more powerful than anything I've ever experienced before.

"Show me your fangs, dove," Jagger says, his hands pushing my hair back as he brings his mouth to my lips.

I sigh at the contact, relishing the feel of his full, luscious lips pressing against mine, coaxing my mouth open so he can slide his tongue in. The taste of autumn consumes my senses, his desire flooding into me like a refreshing drink of water.

Zev is at my back, kissing my neck, moving down my spine as his hand reaches around my hip and dips between my thighs. I jolt into the touch, his spiced chocolate flavor joining Jagger's in a combination that is unforgettable.

I break our kiss, sucking in a sharp breath as my fangs finally punch out.

"There she is," Jagger says, offering me a smile that makes me almost forget we're locked in a dungeon cell, our lives hanging in the balance of the decisions we make next.

I'm trembling, Zev's infuriatingly talented fingers teasing me over the silk of my nightgown as Jagger gently guides my mouth to his neck, turning his head to the side in a full submission.

Every carnal instinct takes over, the reality of our situation disappearing as I sink my fangs into his flesh.

His warm blood fills my mouth, and I moan at the taste of him, all ginger and nutmeg and spices. I drink, each swallow reawakening my body and mind and heart .

Zev uses his other hand to dip down and hike my nightgown up, just enough so he can tuck his hand under, his fingers meeting my slick center.

I gasp as he slides a finger in, then two, leaning my head back against his chest, looking up at him.

Jagger presses closer, his muscular body hiding everything Zev is doing to me, as he plants kisses along my neck and over my chest. The two powerful males are doing everything they can to restore me. Doing everything in their power to feed me in every way possible despite knowing I won't be able to give them anything in return.

For half a second, I wonder if this is what love feels like?

But then Zev presses the heel of his palm against my throbbing clit just as Jagger claims my mouth, licking into it without a care of the stray drops of his blood lingering on my lips.

It's consuming and raw, flooding my body with pleasure I can't possibly contain.

I rock into Zev's hand, drinking down both of their desires as my orgasm tears through me, making me flutter around his fingers, my legs going weak with the intensity of it, but the two don't dare let me fall.

I look past Jagger, who's dipping down to kiss my chest, my eyes locking with Gray's as I come on Zev's fingers.

He's watching the exchange with a hungry look he can't hide or deny. I glare at him through my orgasm, my hatred fully restored as reality comes crashing down around us.

I'm in a cage , having a rushed interaction with my Linked in order to stay alive.

It's not fair to them.

Gently, Zev moves his hand after he's worked me through the aftershocks, but the two continue to keep their hands on me, giving me comforting, silent touches and kisses that speak all the words we can't say in front of the enemy. I try to give them everything back in return, wanting nothing more than to reach for them, to satisfy their needs too, but Gray clears this throat.

"Time's up," he says, opening the door to the cell.

I want to demand I stay with them. Better to be trapped down here with them than be locked in some pretty cage on the upper levels of the palace, but I know that won't help any of us. Not when I have a role to play.

I kiss them each one last time, holding their hands for as long as we can stretch until they have to release me, Gray immediately taking my arm and leading me out of the cell before closing the door behind him.

"Did you like what you saw?" I ask when those burning eyes stare down at me for a little too long.

"You tell me," he says, drawing me flush against him.

I gasp, feeling his hard length against me.

My body reacts, a bolt of lightning zapping down the middle of me. I glare up at him, silently accusing him for my body's betrayal. It's only because my Linked and I didn't get to spend more time together. That's why my body is still so starved for physical touch.

"If you want me to ever entertain feeding from you like that," I say, suddenly realizing I have a card to play. "You need to release them."

"No," Zev growls.

" Liv ," Jagger argues.

Gray fastens them with a look that promises pain if they keep up with their outbursts, before returning focus to me. "You're not really in a position to negotiate."

"Aren't I?" I ask, shifting against him slightly, the thin silk barely hiding anything between us. I hate that I shiver in his arms, hate that my body is so starved and needy that it doesn't care that it's him holding me.

"I can't release them," he says, never taking his eyes off of me. "But I'll put them in nicer quarters," he says, taking a step away from me, disconnecting our bodies but keeping a firm hold on my arm. He gives me a sardonic smirk. "Can't have your food spoiling, after all," he says before pulling me back toward that goddsessforsaken staircase.

I hate him.

Every step we take up to the palace, I hate him even more.

And I'm going to take such pleasure in killing them all.