Page 50 of The Blood Rites

He laughs, and I feel the filth of it crawl across my skin. “She didn't say no.”

“She can’t speak, you disgusting pig,” Callen spits.

Morwen hiccups a sob, hands clawing at her throat.

“She doesn’t need to speak for what I have in mind. I just want to have some fun with her while I can.” He grins so wide my stomach turns. “She won’t live long once the trials begin.”

“Look at her—” Callen says, but the words lack any real bite. “Can't you see what you've done to her already?”

He raises his hands, ready for what comes next. I want to step in, but my fear roots my feet to the floor.

Atheron stands, one eye casually tracking me. “Do you two really intend to fight the six of us?"

His voice is lazy, but there is something sharp beneath it. “You may heal, but I promise you the pain will be quite dreadful.”

He levels a glare at both me and Callen. “What do you think Rask?”

He smirks at the Earthborn man. “Are these Lightborn rats so virtuous that they’ll suffer for the sake of one pathetic Waterborn?”

Rask laughs—a low, mean growl as his lips curl in amusement.

“Back off,” Callen snaps, stepping closer to Rask, close enough that I’m sure he can smell his rancid breath. “You don’t scare me.”

“I should,” Rask rumbles, and before I can blink, his fist comes down in a lazy arc, catching Callen square on the shoulder. The sound is dull, like a boot striking packed earth. Callen doesn’t crumple though—his stubbornness keeps him upright—but the force drives him to one knee. Rask grabs him by the collar and lifts him off the floor like a sack of flour. The fabric tears at the seams.

“Enough!” I shout. My voice cracks, raw and furious, unsure who I’m even addressing.

Rask’s head swivels, his eyes finding me immediately.

“Well, look here,” he says, “the pretty one wants a piece.”

He grins, exposing broken teeth that look more like slabs of stone than bone. “Your little Shadow prince isn’t here to protect you this time.”

I want to run, to phase straight through the walls like one of the Overseers. Overseers who are suspiciously absent despite their usual penchant for conflict.

“I don’t want to fight, and I don’t need protecting,” I declare, forcing my voice to steady. “But I won’t stand by and let you hurt that girl or my friend.”

It’s a bluff. Even as the words leave my lips, doubt and fear claw at me. Maybe I do need a little protecting here.

My heart races as I face Rask. I cannot fight this man. He's twice my size—maybe more—and he has backup. All I can do is buy Callen enough time to get Morwen out of here. Whatever pain comes, I can endure it. I know how.

Atheron’s laughter echoes through the room, menacing and chaotic. “Well, this should be entertaining.”

Rask throws Callen to the ground in a heap. Mercifully, he gets up, clutching at his arm before meeting my eyes. I flick my gaze towards Morwen, hoping he understands. He moves without hesitation.

Rask flexes his hands and his knuckles pop. “You sure pretty boy? You look softer than dough.”

In comparison to him, perhaps, but I’m not made of glass. I nod anyway.

He lunges. I expect a punch, but he fakes low before ramming his massive head straight into my chest. The impact knocks the wind out of me, and my feet leave the ground before stone crashes into my back. The world blurs and I taste iron. Rask straddles me, pinning my arms with his knees. I’m sick of being pinned beneath stronger men. He raises one fist, and I watch as the skin ripples and hardens, his fleshy knuckles transforming into rough, solid stone.

I catch a glimpse of Callen—he has Morwen’s arm draped over his shoulders as he takes her away.

My Mana bubbles within me, desperate for release, but I force it back down.

I cannot reveal myself here.

I force the power back into its shell and brace for pain.