Bound by Darkness (Bound By Series)

19. Blue Veins

Chapter 19

Blue Veins

MORIA

Drip.

It was torture. It was bliss.

Everything and nothing.

Nothing and everything as water trickled from the tiny cracks in the ceiling. My tongue lapped the free droplets, even though they barely soothed the dryness in my mouth as I teetered on the brink of decay.

Iron rattled against the walls as I hung lazily by my wrists. My shoulders had dislocated from the uneven distribution of weight, leaving me in a constant state of pain.

Hanging above the piss-covered floor, blood seeped from various cuts along my body. My blood still bled red despite the copious amounts of black minerals they poured into my mouth and forced into makeshift incision sites.

The rainwater dried as a whine left my lips. My head flopped forward as my hair cascaded over my chest, the ends tickling my bare stomach. I was one of many chained against the stone wall making up the iron tower of Galar.

A blood-curdling scream sounded beside me as the snapping of tendon and bone echoed off of the cylindrical stone walls. I knew his pain far too well as the man grew silent.

Only death lingered in the cylindrical room, yet it refused to call on me. Death would not find me among the shadows.

They would not let her find me. After all, I was their best test subject. I received the highest dosages and the least amount of time to recover. I was a prodigy, an anomaly. They called me everything except my name—the name I had trouble remembering at times, the mineral potent and addicting.

Pain. Pleasure.

My brain mingled both together to create an incredible high that ebbed and flowed within me each time they pumped my body with foreign substances—the worst, a mixture of minerals and powder.

It refused to bind with my blood, not even when they injected it into my heart… or my lungs, thighs, spine, and brain.

Nothing killed me.

The creak of iron against stone had my heart beating frantically. Forgotten were the days of idle touches. My body only knew torture. Spoke to it… caressing it like a leaf in the wind.

Hefty footsteps slapped against stone as a guard neared closer, my heart skipping a beat with each solidified step. Not again.

Please, not again .

I used to think the gods were still around in hiding, but I was wrong. The gods were gone, and they did not care for me.

My chains loosened as I collided with the wet floor, a gasp leaving my lips as my arms hung loosely at each side. My eyes squeezed shut at the blinding pain from the blistering cuts along my legs.

A metal-tipped boot kicked a tray before me as it slid through my filth. “Eat,” the voice demanded.

My eyes lifted to the tray. It contained a pile of rice and burnt meat. A delicate coating of black powder was piled atop it. It could have easily been mistaken for pepper, but I knew them well enough to know they did not sprinkle such a luxurious spice on top.

Leaning forward, my arms did not budge from my sides. They didn’t respond to me anymore.

“Eat,” the voice sliced through.

“My arms,” I rasped, the sound foreign to my ears. I struggled to raise one, but it did not answer.

“You have tongue and teeth, do you not?” Another kick of her boot sent the tray straight into my knees. “Eat, or I will force it down your throat.”

Biting back the lingering ache in my arms, I leaned over the tray until my chin rested against the pile of food. Using my tongue and teeth, I fed myself like a dog.

The woman watched, offering no help as I choked back bits of food. I licked the plate clean, each mineral grain sliding down my parched throat. Leaning back on my heels, wet globs of meat and rice stuck to my chin.

“Open.”

My lips pulled apart as her fingers probed my cheeks for hidden food. It was a daily occurrence to ensure I ingested every morsel of crushed mineral.

The woman stepped back, the metal tip of her boot singing against rock. Grabbing the handle, she cranked the contraption built into the stone wall as the chains around my wrists tightened once again.

A loud pop resounded as they spread me in both directions, my shoulders screaming in agony, but not a sound flowed from my lips. I’d lost the ability to yell. I was too tired to lament such pitiful woes to the heavens.

The iron door creaked again.

He showed up on time. Always on time.

A whimper left my lips at the familiar sliding of wheels against stone as the woman slipped out of the room and left me alone with Draven, master of torture and experimentation.

“Looking a bit under the weather.” The cart stopped before me, my eyes scanning the familiar tools—scalpel, knife, needles, and black minerals stuffed into various glass shapes.

A chuckle left his thin lips. “No good morning?”

My head slumped to the side. My eyes squeezed shut as I breathed through my nose. I had done this a thousand times.

Go deep within… within?—

Draven’s icy hands gripped my arm as he tugged it, a muffled groan escaping my lips. “Tsk, dislocated.”

His hands roamed over the rest of my flesh as he poked and prodded his most recent incision sites on my body. “Hm, no discoloration.” He jotted it into his leather notebook. “No bruising or swelling,” he muttered. “The cuts aren’t healing, but your body is intact. I must find a way to break you for King Hywell’s purpose.”

His fingers stretched the skin, more blood dripping onto the stone below. He wrote a few more pointers into his notebook before gripping my thigh. “Three vials,” he said more to himself.

My body jerked against his touch.

His grip latched firmly as he stabbed the needle into the thickest part.

My leg quivered as the liquid ran through. It left behind a trail of icy hot flames as it spread throughout my blood.

“Hm, how odd,” he repeated, injecting another vial into my chest.

My body shook against the chains, a small groan leaving my lips. This was already more than I’d ever received.

He grabbed the last vial. “This last one is no fun.” His hand wrapped tightly around the glass vial as he gestured to his eye. “It’s the one place we haven’t tried.”

Panic set in. No. No ?—

I slammed my back against the stone, but his fingers were faster and more agile as he gripped my chin. His body was not defiled. His body had not been tortured daily.

The glint of the needle shone by my eye as he shoved my head into the wall.

Trapped. Trapped ? —

I curled deep within myself. I recoiled my memories to a place he could not reach. Deeper and deeper, I sank until she appeared.

Her green eyes gleamed brightly on the sandy shore, reflecting the lulls and swells of the saltwater waves. She laughed, the sound mixing in with the crashing of the tide.

As my body shook and harrowing cries lamented from my lips, I sat beside her on the sandy shore until a tidal wave of darkness crashed into me, washing both sand and her away.

A bitter breeze cut into me, my bones shivering at the lingering chill. I didn’t know how much time had passed, whether day or night: the same or the next. Everything swirled together in bits of pain and euphoria. The minerals weren’t the worst drug coursing through my veins.

Powder, of some plant variety, sent me into an astronomical high at the end of every day—a powerful hallucinogen to weaken my senses and drown me in the pleasure my body created.

Draven believed pain and pleasure were vital to unlocking the mineral’s power. Flood the brain with both until it crashed.

My lips curled as the chemicals shimmered, my body panting at the energy coursing through me.

Footsteps barely registered in my head as Draven’s fingers gripped my chin, drawing my gaze to his.

My eye, swollen from the injection, registered the calm features of his face. Rugged from years of life, his charcoal eyes stared into mine. Power and authority rested there, as well as a pink scar crossing through his brow to his cheek.

His fingers poked the growing welt, a scoff brewing on his cracked, dry lips. “Enjoying yourself?”

My lips twitched against the rough patches of his hands. Bubbling laughter erupted from my chest as I opened my mouth. “Squeaky.” Had his voice always sounded this stridulous and grating?

Draven narrowed his gaze. His fingers dug deep enough into my flesh to bruise. “Quiet.”

Full, hearty laughter rose from my chest. It did not stop with the strike of his hand or his chastising glare.

“Filthy,” he muttered, his nimble fingers examining the rest of me as I laughed into the stale air.

Amazing. Had the world always been so striking? So brilliant?

He poked and prodded me before shifting to the young male beside me, his body fresh. Only a few cuts marred his skin. The true torment resided on the soles of his feet, which Draven had carved yesterday, stuffing black rock after black rock into each hand-made pocket .

The young man’s chains rattled against the stone as he pleaded to Draven. “Kill me. Please, kill me.”

“Kill me,” I mocked, fits of giggling escaping my lips. “No one dies here,” I slurred, biting my lip to keep the roaring contained.

Draven squared his shoulders, a muscle clenching in his jaw as he lifted the man’s foot. Black blood oozed and wept from the cuts. “Your wounds are infected, but not hers.”

“Infected,” I repeated. “If I’m infected”—my head flopped to the side— “do I get more powder?”

I wanted more. I craved more of that sweet, sweet powder.

Draven’s jaw clenched, his fingers flexing as he dropped the man’s foot. He took large, calculated strides to me until his eyes stared into mine. “Shut up, or I’ll carve out more than just your flesh.”

I stuck my tongue at him, my lips quirking at the sides.

His face grew red as he flicked the lever, and my body crashed into the ground below. Loud coughs and laughter erupted from me.

As his kicks met my bruised flesh, all my body clung to were the waves of numbness emitting from the powerful substance. It continued to spread as his kicks spewed blood from my lips. It mixed with the filth accumulating on my body with each violent kick.

The chains yanked me back, my temple crashing into the thick stone as Draven wrapped it around my slender neck, my hands twisting at odd angles. My face turned purple, and my vision blurred as the world broke into particles of light and color.

Yes , my body sighed—pure bliss. Knowing the torture would be over in a moment. Knowing no one would slice me open, not in death.

The chain loosened around my neck as the color slowly spread into my cheeks, powerful rasps of air stuffing into my lungs. I cried as my body filled with air. I cursed it. I cursed the air, the heavens. I cursed it all.

“I hold the keys to your life,” he spat. “I decide when you die… when your purpose to King Hywell is done.”

I whimpered, my body shaking from withdrawal—gone. The high had dissipated like it never existed.

I was stuck here, a never-ending cycle of torture awaiting me. The rebels had not appeared at daybreak and hope was lost. They had failed, leaving me to rot here until the Galar’s guards tossed me over the misty peaks.

Draven clicked the lever as I violently shook, my eyes bloodshot and filled with need.

“P—Please,” I stuttered, coughing bits of blood. “More. I need more.”

Draven’s lips curled upward as his charcoal eyes shone brightly. “No,” he purred. “You will not receive another dosage even if you offer up your pathetic life.”

I needed it.

I needed it .

“Please,” I begged, my lips shaking.

Draven turned around, his feet gliding over stone with precise steps.

“Come back here!” I screamed, my hands shaking the chains violently. Sobs wrecked through my chest. “I need it!”

He chuckled as the iron door creaked. “I’ve never experienced more pleasure than causing you pain.”

The iron door slammed shut, locking my cries inside.