Before being allowed to rest in his cell, Carrick had to receive whatever lashes he’d earned. Rune always made sure to appear so he could watch, usually lounging on a ridiculous-looking chaise with a table of food laden with all kinds of delicacies. If he thought that would torture Carrick, he was wrong. Food and luxuries were irrelevant in a place like this. Carrick had endured hardships far worse, and Rune knew it. All of his little displays of power were nothing more than a vain attempt to humiliate Carrick, which frankly, could not be done.
The man-beast gave Carrick a hard shove between his shoulder blades toward a wooden St. Andrew’s cross where he’d eventually shackle Carrick to receive his lashes. Not that Carrick needed to be chained. He’d take his lashes only because he knew this was nothing more than a game to Rune. If he reacted or showed emotion, Rune would win.
Carrick’s jailer shoved him again, harder this time. He wasn’t expecting it and stumbled slightly. When he righted himself, he was shoved again.
For days upon days, Carrick had taken these little aggressions without so much as a backward glance. But the last shove broke something in him that he didn’t know was fragile. A rush of rage swept through him, and, without thought, he half-turned and backhanded the man-beast in the center of his chest.
It was done with such force and full demi-god strength that the creature went flying twenty feet through the air where he landed with a thud on the hard-packed dirt. Carrick knew the creature was a Dark Fae and wasn’t hurt. This was evidenced by the fact it scrambled to its feet with a growl, but Carrick could see its eyes were wide with astonishment behind that mask. While Carrick knew it was fae, it had no clue what Carrick was.
Turning to the cross, Carrick walked to it and waited for the jailer to come over and chain him. He noted he did so without any further abuses, making short work of it and retreating back a few feet. The fae now understood that the chains were for show anyway. Carrick could break them if he wanted.
“How many lashes are we on for today?” Rune’s voice hit his ears, and he turned his head to see the god of Life had made his appearance.
As usual, he lounged on a purple velour-covered chaise with a table to the side filled with foods that admittedly made Carrick’s belly rumble slightly but otherwise were of no consequence.
There was something different about this evening’s visit from Rune. The blue-haired, mohawked god was wearing a silk lounging robe open at the chest, revealing his muscular form. Sitting on open areas of the chaise with their limbs draped over one another were three naked women.
Carrick had no clue their purpose, and he didn’t care. He just wanted his lashes and for Rune to leave. Once he did, Carrick would be one day closer to Rune getting sick of this little game since Carrick refused to play the victim.
“Twenty,” the masked jailer grunted. Carrick could hear the whip unfurl behind him and hit the ground.
So as to show no fear and complete nonchalance for what was about to happen, Carrick made sure his eyes stayed pinned on Rune for the duration. He kept a benign smile on his face, and while he could not help his body jerking each time the whip bit into his back, he never made a sound. The pain was excruciating, but Carrick’s mind and willpower were far stronger than Rune would ever give him credit for.
Sadly, Carrick knew if he’d just show pain or humiliation or even beg to be let go, Rune would do it. That was all he wanted, but no matter how badly Carrick wanted to get back to Finley, he was never going to let Rune win against him.
The whip hissed and cracked, the sound of flesh tearing audible. Rune merely stuffed some sort of skewered meat into his mouth, chewing while smiling at Carrick’s punishment. But with each lash and not much of a reaction from Carrick, the maliciousness in Rune’s expression became keen.
When the last strike was done, Carrick could feel the blood trickling in rivulets down his back. It felt like he was on fire, but he also knew the cuts would soon start knitting, and, before long, he’d be healed.
The fae unshackled Carrick’s bonds. Without a word to Rune, he turned for his cell.
“Halt,” Rune commanded imperiously. With a low sigh, Carrick turned to face the bratty god of Life with a cocked eyebrow.
“I’ve brought you a gift.” Rune motioned his hand out to the side with a gleam in his eye, and a bathtub filled with steaming water appeared. Carrick had not been allowed such decency since being trapped here.
Carrick was suspicious. Rune didn’t offer gifts, especially given the level of hate he bore for him.
At a clap of Rune’s hands, the naked women jumped off the chaise and ran giggling over to the bathtub. One suggestively ran her hand through the water before lifting a wet finger to her mouth.
Carrick’s gaze went back to Rune.
With a solicitous nod, he grinned. “They’ll help bathe you.”
“Not interested,” Carrick muttered and turned away once again.
“You’re turning down my offer of a hot bath with three gorgeous women who are willing to do anything you want?” Rune asked, but by the taunting tone of his voice, he knew Carrick would never accept.
“Yup,” was all Carrick replied. He didn’t need to explain himself.
“So loyal to your little Finley,” Rune cooed out. “She’d never know if you wanted to indulge.”
“Not interested in the slightest.” Carrick turned back to face Rune so he could see the determination in his expression. He wasn’t going to play this game with him either.
Rune studied him a moment, tapping his finger against his chin. “All you have to do is beg me to release you, and I will.”
“I’ll pass,” Carrick replied flippantly.
“Your girl is in danger,” Rune taunted, and Carrick’s body locked tight. “Had a nasty fight with a wraith last week. Your brother Maddox lets her run all over the place, and he certainly doesn’t look after her the way you would.”
Carrick’s jaw locked hard as he digested that, but again, he would never show Rune his concern. He finally managed a calm smile as he shrugged. “Finley’s strong on her own. Besides that, I expect she’ll be fine since she’s the key to the prophecy. I highly doubt she’s meant to be taken down by one of your dusty-clothed ghosts.”
“Is she strong enough to take on Kymaris?” Rune drawled in amusement. “Because she’s the one who has to do it, you know?”
Carrick couldn’t ignore that. The gods had been very vague on what part Finley will play in the prophecy, and Arwen had only vaguely said she’d bear great sacrifice. It all sounded ominous, but Carrick had been lulled into believing that vanquishing Kymaris would be a group effort. This was the first time anyone said that the battle would be between Finley and Kymaris alone, and it terrified him.
“Ahh,” Rune murmurs with a sly grin. “I see I have your attention now.”
“You’re saying Finley will fight Kymaris?” Carrick asked for clarification.
“I’m saying only Finley can stop her,” Rune replied with a careless shrug. “How you interpret that is up to you.”
It was clear Rune wasn’t going to offer anything clearer than that, but Carrick was grateful for that information. It meant he had a lot of work ahead of him to get Finley ready for this. Time was running short, and she still hadn’t figured out how to use her powers.