Chapter 2: The Beast of the Underworld

" Strip." 

The command was flat, followed by the metallic click of a safety being switched off. I did not move. Two Dreadfang guards stood over me in the windowless gravestone cell. These guys looked like they’d been sculpted out of determinedness and bad intentions. The fancy hallways of the manor house were gone, replaced by the damp, cold reality of the basement. 

" I said strip, Princey. Or we’ll do it for you." The guard on the left — a brute with a cauliflower observance — scowled. 

I did not say a word. I just reached for the buttons of my large suit jacket. My fritters were steady. I exfoliate the hair, the shirt, and the high collars I’d used to hide the verity for a decade. As the fabric hit the bottom, the guards’ trim aesthetics dissolved. They were not looking at a sickly scholar presently. They were looking at the corded muscle of my reverse and the jagged scars on my shoulders from times of silent, brutal training. 

" What the f**k is this?" the brute murmured, his eyes widening. 

" Just dress him," the other bone

snapped, throwing a pile of black silk at my bases." The Boss is staying. He does not like to be kept." 

The silk felt like ice. It was a menial’s mask — thin,semi-transparent, and designed to cheapen. It was meant to turn a man into a jewel. I pulled it on, my jaw tight. Let them suppose I’m a doll, I allowed

. Dolls do not have teeth. Until they do. 

They dragged me through the manor house. Every enforcer we passed stopped to gawk. Their eyes were dark and empty. 

" Fresh meat," someone rumored. 

" He will not last an hour with the Beast," another laughed." Look at those wrists. Kaelor will snap him like a branch." 

I ignored the pity. I was busy counting. Six security cameras in the north hall. Biometric scanners on the heavy oak doors. Two guards at every junction. I was not just a internee; I was a surveyor mapping the exits. 

We reached a set of double doors that smelled of old paper and raw bobby

. The guards shoved me outside and bolted the door. 

The library was massive and shrouded in murk. Shattered glass grated under my bare bases. A mahogany office had been adhered in half, and books lay eviscerated across the bottom. In the center of the wreckage sat a throne- suchlike president. 

Kaelor Dreadfang. 

He was a mountain of a man, his casket heaving under a tattered shirt. He did not look like a mob master; he looked like a bloodsucker caught in a trap. His hair was a mess of black, and his skin was slick with sweat. 

I took one step. 

He moved briskly than I could track. One second he was ten bases down; the coming, his hand was a vise around my throat, slamming me back against a bookshelf. The wood moaned. My bases suspended elevation off the bottom. 

" Who transferred you?" he growled. The sound was not mortal. It was a vibration that rattled my bones. 

I did not claw at his hand. I did not supplicate. I looked straight into his eyes. They were amber — burning, panicked, and drowning in agony. He was not just angry; he was suffering. 

" Your. buyer," I managed to choke out. 

The moment our skin touched, it happed. 

A white-hot jolt of electricity surged from his win into my neck. It was not pain. It was a violent, soul-deep recognition. My heart, which had been a steady barrel, suddenly slammed into the same meter as his. 

Kaelor set. His grip loosened just enough for my toes to touch the ground, but he did not let go. His nostrils burned , taking in my scent. The murderous logjam on his face atrophied into pure, alarmed confusion. 

" What's this?" he rumored, his voice cracking." What did you do to me?" 

The Mate Bond. It was a myth, a bedtime story for the shifter clans. It was not supposed to be to a Vaelis. We were the adversaries. We were the nimrods. 

Suddenly, Kaelor’s eyes rolled back. His body began to agitate, muscles splashing and knotting beneath his skin. He let out a choked laugh, collapsing to his knees and dragging me down with him. 

" Get. down." he puffed, his fingernails clawing grooves into the hardwood bottom. 

He was shifting, but it was wrong. It was jagged and forced. I caught a scent also — under the bobby

and the old paper — there was a faint, chemical bitterness. Digitalis. High boluses. 

He was not just" unstable." Someone was poisoning him. His own people were turning him into a frenetic canine so they could put him down. 

" Kaelor, stop fighting it," I said, my voice critical. 

He swung a eyeless, heavy fist. I ducked, the air effervescing over my head. I did not run for the door. I stepped into his space, my fritters chancing the jitters at the base of his cranium. I pressed hard, channelizing my training into one point. 

His body went rigid, also drooped. The violent temblors failed down into a low shiver. He leaned his forepart against my casket, his breath briskly through the thin silk of my mask. 

" Why?" he breathed, his eyes fluttering open. He looked up at me, the amber fire bedimmed by prostration." You’re a Vaelis. You should have let me tear my own heart out." 

" I do not like seeing munitions wasted," I said, my voice colder than I felt. My own casket was burning, a strange warmth spreading from where he touched me. 

Kaelor shoved himself down, stumbling toward his office. He seized a brochure, his hands still shaking." You suppose you’re a rescuer? Look at this." 

He tossed a coarse print onto the remains of the office. My heart stopped. It was Kaerith. She was not at the megacity gates. She was in a windowless van, her hands bound, being driven toward a Syndicate holding installation. 

" My father. he prevaricated," I rumored. The air left the room. My immolation, the chains, the demotion it was all for nothing. He’d vended me and kept her anyway. 

" The Vaelis birth does not know how to keep a pledge," Kaelor wrangle. He stood up, towering over me again. The vulnerability was gone, replaced by a dark, jealous intensity. 

He stepped so close I could feel the heat radiating off him." You saved my life, little Napoleon. That was your first mistake. Now, I’m noway letting you out of this room." 

He turned toward the door, his voice roaring like thunder." Guards! Move his effects to the Master Suite. He’s not a menial presently." 

The door swung open. The brute from ahead goggled at me, also at Kaelor." Boss? You mean the guest room?" 

" I mean my room," Kaelor growled." He's mine. Anyone who touches him, anyone who looks at him awry, dies. Do I make myself clear?" 

The guard blanched and climbed to observe. 

Kaelor turned back to me, leaning down until his lips brushed against my observance. The contact transferred a fresh surge of fire through my blood. 

" You want to save your family?" he rumored, his hand settling heavily on my midriff." also stay. Be my doll. Be my cure. But try to run, and I'll burn the Vaelis name out of history. I will start with her, and I will end with you."