ONE HUNDRED STROKES, ONE THINNING PATIENCE.
ONE HUNDRED STROKES, ONE THINNING PATIENCE.
RILEY'S POV
THE VOICES had started out quietly, a small whisper of my name being called amidst the chaos and darkness.
“Riley…”
I whipped around, heart in my throat, arms held out, searching the blackness.
“Who’s that?” I called out, trembling. “I—I can’t see you!”
But the darkness didn’t answer. It only echoed my own voice. As if teasing and mocking me.
Softly, the voices continued.
“Riley…”
Even softer.
“Riley…”
And then all of a sudden, it pitched into a fucking scream.
“Riley!”
Afterwards, it didn't soften. It multiplied. It came from the floor, from the ceiling, from inside my own ears. I spun left. I spun right. Everywhere. Over and over again until the world tilted on its axis. I recognised some of the voices, I knew the pitch of fear in them, I could identify some, I knew them.
“Nina?” I screamed, stumbling forward.
“Riley!”
“Z…Ziarah?”
I spun again, smoke filling my lungs. Then a sound that nearly stopped my breath. “Seneca?”
“Riley…”
“Seneca?”
“Riley!”
“Where am I?” I shrieked, turning in tight, frantic circles. “Where are you? I can’t see you!”
The darkness around me was thick enough to feel like a living breathing entity on its own. Screams, distorted voices which seemed like a horrifying mix of children highpitched screaming and adults begging for mercy in the background of the horrific chorus of those who were calling my name—filled the air enough to shatter my ear drums.
I couldn’t see past the darkness, nor could I see past the smoke that clouded the hallways from an unseen fire that burned, but I know I heard the noises.
Left, right, above, below, people were begging for mercy.
And no matter how much I screamed to be heard, I had been plunged right into the center of what felt like hell.
SENECA VEYLOR’S POV
The rhythmic thud-thud of Ziarah’s heeled boots echoed off the marble of the estate hallways as we walked toward the office I used for human visitors. Our footsteps fell out of sync for a moment, and I heard the sound of her heaving a deep, dramatic sigh.
It was unusual for this huge hunk of Half-Titan demon to express anything so plainly, unless her feminine human side was peeking through and she wanted to let me know something without actually saying it.
She already didn't look pleased when we left the throne room that I had let Orion off the hook the way I did.
I hadn't even asked what the problem was, just spared her a quick side glance, and she immediately threw the accusation.
“You give your brothers too much grace.”
“They’re my brothers,” I reminded her swiftly. “Despite their mishaps, they’re still my brothers. I grew up with those men even before we had all this…”
The title.
The powers.
The dragons.
Ziarah’s already tight, bald face squeezed into an even deeper frown.
“And Orion’s breeder,” she countered, “is she perhaps your sister too?”
I stopped walking and turned my full attention to her.
“That’s a ridiculous comparison, Ziarah. The breeder is a human under his protection who committed an assault. My brothers are my blood. We have rules, but blood comes first.”
“Your blood almost just started a civil war in your throne room.”
She paused, took a quick glance down the length we'd come as if Orion and Makrik would just be sticking to the walls, listening to the discussion when they were probably halfway to their regions.
“And it was your breeder who was left half-dead. If that woman, the sister you don’t have, had succeeded, Orion would be celebrating right now.”
“You think I'm being too merciful?”
“Well, the breeder still breathes.”
I arched my brow. “Hundred strokes of lashes per day isn't a good enough punishment?"
“Not to my standard.”
“You'd rather she died?”
“I'd rather she was in hell right now.”
I didn't ask anymore questions. I turned and continued the long walk down the hallways.
Ziarah caught up easily, trying to remain calm. “But…. I really hope you do not let her off so easily.”
I said nothing.
She pushed further.
“Or ever release her to Dominus Orion as well.”
I responded then, without looking at her. “Why?”
There was a long stretch of silence, filled only by the rhythmic thump-thump of our footsteps as we trudged forward.
“Well, for one, it eliminates the competition between you and him,” she finally said. Then came another pause, a subtle shift in her rhythm. “And secondly…” another pause. “I don’t trust her after she…”
“Put her hands on Riley,” I finished for her.
She gave a low hum. “She crossed the line. And Riley is in a very critical condition.”
My heart almost skipped a beat.
“What exactly did the doctor tell you?”
She hesitated. “You should hear from him yourself…”
Ziarah’s voice had always been gruff and grating, but today, that gruffness trembled. Ziarah was… sad?
For Riley?
“Is what the doctor said what bothered you?”
She gave a feeble shrug of her shoulders, “A lot of things bother me, Seneca.”
Seneca. She only used my name when she was trying to associate with me as a friend, not as an underling.
“A lot of things?” I prompted.
She didn’t hold back. “The state of the world.”
“State of the world or state of Riley?” I forced a tease through the ache in my chest.
She snorted. “You and your brothers are constantly at war with each other. Your endless disagreements are distracting you and most definitely allowing the rebels to gain the upper hand. They’ve been quiet ever since Dominus Vorath’s death, which means they’ve been restrategizing… maybe even right under our noses…. Maybe even right here in the estate… maybe even here tonight…”
“What do you suspect?”
“A lot of things…things haven’t felt right in the estate since the selection game.”
“With Riley?”
"No, not even her."
"Then what?"
“I always pay attention, Seneca, even when you're busy trying to keep your cock out of Riley.”
I arched a brow at the jab.
She mimicked the action, but didn't stop talking.
“If you do not start paying attention and working together as a team instead of fighting over women… They will overthrow us very soon. And also,” she hesitated, and then dropped the final weight. “You know Kaelith will not be patient forever. You need to put your mark on Riley as soon as you can.”
That… struck.
She was right.
Just a few hours ago, he had been pushing so hard for me to sink my teeth into Riley.
It was obvious his patience was thinning and his time… ticking.
The Alpha dragon was a self-sufficient entity.
The only difference was that I lived physically.
While he was a spiritual force.
He could live and function in the spirit world with or without me, and it was only a matter of time before he decided that waiting for me to physically apply the mark was a waste of his effort, and he would find a way to do it himself.
By putting the mark on her soul.
That was going to be hell—literally—for Riley.
\~~~
THE DOCTOR scrambled to his feet the instant I stepped into the office, which was nearly submerged in darkness apart from the orange glow of a single lamp on the desk—overlooking dusty paper works—and moonlight rays perching in through the open windows.
It was past midnight, and Ziarah claimed the doctor had been here for hours, which explained why his assistant was slouched in the other guest seat, dozing deeply.
I was nearly taken aback by the look of the doctors.
I’d expected, for whatever reason, old wrinkly men.
But the one leaning towards the other had a burly physique, with wild shoulder length wild brown curls and a long line of tiny silver hoops running up the ridge of his left ear.
It looked far too rebellious and distinctive for a mere doctor.
He shook his friend awake with a violent shove of the shoulder.
“Mr. Davies! Wake up! It’s the Dominus!”
And for whatever reasons, the urgency in his gesture seemed theatrical.
The other blinked groggily, looked over his shoulder, saw me watching him with a sneer, and jolted up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the first.
They looked almost identical in build and height, both broad and well over six feet. But it was hard to place if they were related.
While one had long, untamed curls down his shoulders and the tell-tale jewelry that made him look a little rough, the other looked more responsible, with short, slick black hair.
However, both wore expensive grey shirts under their loose scrubs, and both looked like they spent more time lifting weights than being in a hospital.
I spared Ziarah by the door a quick, disbelieving glance. “Doctors?”
She cleared her throat awkwardly. “The best in the city… so I heard.”
“So you heard?”
“Yes, Dominus,” she admitted.
“How?”
“Elin.”
I arched my brow. “Eli… Who?”
“One of the slaves that had been brought to the quarters had been from the Regent city. She once worked at their hospital.”
For once, she wasn't making sense.
“You took advice on what doctors to seek from a slave?”
She straightened with an immediate need to justify herself. “Elin currently works as a maid for your breeder. I’d thought she’d know because I haven’t been in the city recently, Dominus. I hadn't known which hospital to call from—”
“Which of the maids is Elin?”
Ziarah hesitated… before, “Not the one with the neck burn. That one is—”
I stopped her with a swift raise of my finger. I didn't need any more details on my household staff right now. I needed answers about Riley.
I turned to the two men with a glare.
The one with the curls and the earrings, sensing the end of my patience, stepped forward quickly with a folder of reports in his hands, his voice high-pitched. “Dominus Seneca, sir! Thank you for meeting with us. I am Dr. Alistair…”
Well, I mentally noted that he didn’t look like an Alistair.
“... and this is my colleague, Mr. Davies….”
Nor did the other look like a Davies.
“....We have treated and completed our initial assessment of the patient, Riley.”
I took a heavy step toward them, stopping in the center of the room.
My chest was starting to ache from the pound of my heart, and a trail of sweat raced down my temple. “What’s up with my breeder? I do not have all the time.”
Alistair swallowed hard, fiddling with the papers. “The primary cause of her current unconscious state is severe cerebral contusion—”
My voice pitched into a growl. “I didn't ask for your degree, Doctor! Speak to me in plain English, and speak fast, or I will feed you to hungry demons! Is she on the verge of death? Is she going to live? Be clear, now!”
Kaelith, for whatever reason, was absolutely quiet. The silence of the Alpha Dragon was worse than his rage.
The doctors exchanged a quick panicked glance.
Alistair took a shaky breath, ditching the big words. “Dominus, from the attack she suffered, it’s a miracle she’s alive.”
Davies, the one with the short black hair, chimed in shakily, “Her neck muscles were stretched so far, we found signs of severe strain. She’s lucky she doesn’t have a broken neck.”
Alistair picked up immediately, rushing the words now. “There are torn patches…a few strands of her hair seemed to have been torn from the scalp. And she’s burning up, Dominus. She’s burning up more than we’ve ever seen any human….” he was panicking. “Her fever is spiking higher than usual.”
“The head! How bad is the head injury? Tell me the worst, now!”
Alistair’s eyes darted toward the floor. “The worst is exactly what we said, sir. We are seeing severe brain swelling and strong indicators of internal bleeding in the skull. We don’t know how she is still alive, medically speaking. Her body is holding on, but her brain is in a critical fight for its life. But—”
“But what!” I demanded in a growl, very very impatient. “What is the but?”
Davies stepped closer swiftly, needing to get the critical information out before I exploded.
I was just seconds from setting the room on fire.
“The current loss of her hair revealed a deep scar at the base of her head. It looks like she had a previous major head trauma that required serious stitches. Given the current severity of the brain swelling, we must ask… has she suffered any serious head injury before? We can't know the exact date, but we estimate that something this severe happened roughly a decade ago?”
The question, a possibility of a previous injury, made me gulp. She had been a slave, of course, there were going to be injuries, severe ones from the endless torture.
But…
I lifted a hand to halt him and spared Ziarah a glance. “Wait. Ten years ago? Did we keep files and details of slaves after they got apprehended?”