Claimed: Faction 3: The Isa Fae Collection Read online

  I completely realized that getting naked and hopping in a tub left me incredibly vulnerable, but I’d promised her. I was honest and I was a good person—no matter what anyone else said. I pulled off the elastic waist dress over my head and neatly folded it, setting it next to the tub. My entire body ached. The effort to reach behind my back and unfasten my bra felt like someone was twisting the muscles beneath my flesh to the breaking point.

  Leaving my undergarments with the dress, I grasped the sides of the tub and dragged my leg over the side. The water was slightly cooler than scalding; I gritted my teeth against the pain. It was like be branded all over again.

  The pain gradually faded away and I eased down into the water. My body relaxed. The sensation made its way into my head, almost like it was floating in the steam tendrils rising from the water, and I let my eyes flutter shut.

  A frown, knitted down so deep that it obscured the color of his eyes. They were green, the color of broken bottles long lost to the sea.

  “This is Faction 3.”

  Her voice startled me; I opened my eyes. Nerys had scooted closer to the tub and was now sitting on the floor beside it, her legs tucked neatly underneath her. She had herself propped up on the bed, but she was trying to make it look casual.

  I pretended I didn’t notice. “That’s what this place is called?”

  “They call it Serata, but in the grand scheme it’s Faction 3. There are others like this, alternate worlds that mirror ours.” She handed me the bar of soap. “They brought you here. On the train.”

  I rubbed the bar of soap against my shoulder, massaging the sore muscles. It smelled like citrus, of lemons and limes and a hint of champagne. It reminded me of my senior year in high school, when Vaughn and I got drunk on cheap booze in the barn. I nodded. “The West Wood.”

  “The West Woods, yes. Their world is dying, they’re dying, and the only thing keeping them alive is us.”

  I tried to hold back a frown, but my eye crooked upward. “What do you mean?”

  “They’re Fae.”

  Again, I tried to remain expressionless, but my face worked against me and contorted in some kind of, no doubt, amused/confused expression. “Fae? Come on, those are myth. Tales they told us as children to keep us from wandering around the West Woods and getting tetanus from the rusted train pieces.”

  “No. They need our energy to survive, to recharge their bodies or systems or something. I don’t quite know.” She leaned forward and rested her fingertips on the edge of the tub. “They touch us. They take what they can, usually until we can’t function anymore. The basement…”

  She abruptly stopped, pressing her finger to her lips. At first, I didn’t hear anything but the crackle of wood in the fireplace…but then the sound grew louder.

  Footsteps.

  They tromped past the door and, gradually, faded further down the hallway. Nerys tilted her head to the door, like she was waiting to hear something else, and then turned back to me. “They leave us as husks. But some who are strong, they feed off of for as long as they can. They keep us around.”

  I scrubbed the bottom of my feet, digging the soap against my toes until the grime started to float off into the water. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

  “Because you’re different. You’re a witch.”

  “So?”

  “So?” She huffed into her stringy blonde hair. “You’re immune to their touch. They can’t take your energy that way.”

  My mind drifted back to the man in the so-called procedural suite. The way he pawed at me; the fury in his eyes when I just sat there and stared at him. I thought he was trying to get his rocks off—but he wasn’t. He was trying to source energy from me.

  I snapped my face upward and started at her. Her brown eyes seemed dead, like a mule who is so used to taking the beating that he’s completely given up hope of any other kind of life. They can’t take your energy that way. “Then how do they take it?”

  “He’ll own it.”

  “Own what?”

  “Your body.” She looked away. “And your soul.”

  Twenty-One

  Nerys went mute after that, pinching her lips together so tightly that her nostrils flared.

  That was fine, though, because I knew what she meant. She didn’t have to say it. They’d bought me to be their son’s sex slave. I’d overheard the women at the auction house whispering about it and now it made sense: being bought as personal property verses being taken to a house. The palaces, the ranches. It wasn’t a measurement of society—it was sex trafficking.

  We were immune to their touch, so they took it from our bodies. They stole it.

  I could Nerys was conflicted, some strange state of mind in between feeling sorry for me and thinking I deserved it. She washed and dried my hair and then, while I dried off, she held up dresses and skirts up to me.

  Her cheeks flushed red as she got frustrated. “You’re too damn skinny.”

  “Yeah, about that. The post-apocalyptic world is pretty lacking when it comes to donut shops or fast food restaurants. It’s amazing how fast you lower your standards and eat anything that stands still long enough.”

  She clamped her mouth shut.

  When they came for me, I was dressed in white lace boy shorts and a matching white lace bralette, with a white gathered silk blouse to cover it. My legs were covered in thigh high, pale blue stockings held up by white lace garters wrapped around each leg; my feet were bound in brown leather boots. The blue skirt looked like it was only a few shades darker than my stockings and was actually a lace layer underneath a layer of blue sheer material.

  Nerys barely had enough time to bind me in a dark gray corset before the door opened. Tobias walked in without knocking; I assumed he didn’t have to do that kind of thing.

  His lips curled up into something only loosely resembling a smile. “Well, now, Nerys, I’d say you’ve earned your keep today. She almost looks passible for a human.”

  I kept my mouth shut.

  He circled around me and nodded, almost like he was appraising my body from every angle. It was like he was sizing up a piece of furniture, debating how well it would fit in the drawing room. My skin crawled; his stare was lecherous.

  “In fact, she’s almost quite lovely.” He crossed his arms over his chest and then lifted his hand to his chin, kneading the flabby skin. “Do you think he’ll like her hair down?”

  “I can pull it back if you’d rather.”

  “No time for that. Just finish dressing her and I’ll take her downstairs—he’ll be home soon.”

  Nerys nodded. She grabbed ahold of my wrist and tied a lace cuff around it; she did the same to the other side. A strip of leather across the middle was criss crossed by delicate silver chains and, in the middle, was some kind of stone.

  I glanced at her.

  She wouldn’t look back. After fiddling with one of the chains, she jammed her fingers into either side of my wrist.

  Pain ripped through the bones in my arms, searing up my hands like it was about to burst out of my fingertips. The room was swaying—or was I swaying? I was dizzy; my arms were on fire.

  And I knew. I didn’t even have to try, but I knew: whatever these bracelets were, they were strong enough to hold back my power. The one thing that I had—the last sliver of individuality, of being Wren Richards—was gone.

  My heart sank in my chest. I barely moved when she pulled my hair to one side and fastened a black jet choker around my throat.

  Tobias’s smile grew wider; it seemed like he had more teeth than normal. “Now, you’re going to be a good girl, right Wren? I’m not going to do anything to you now, not when you’re about to be given to him, but you listen to me.”

  He grabbed my arm just below the cuff and yanked me to him, his face so close that I could smell his stale breath. “You listen close. You will belong to my son and I respect that. But if you step out of line, I’ll see to it that your little whore body is used and taken until it’s beyon
d recognition. You serve us, witch, and the minute you cause trouble? No magic spells will save you.”

  A tremor wracked my body and I nodded. I didn’t trust myself to speak; I was afraid that any kind of verbal response could be taken as defiance. I wasn’t ready to die. I wasn’t necessarily ready for this life, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for the alternative.

  Especially if that alternative was Tobias.

  He smiled sweetly at me and placed his hand firmly on my shoulder. The cruelty left his eyes; it was like storm clouds blowing way from the sun. “Come along, then. Let’s get the presentation over and the papers signed. You know, Meleri and I used to dream about what our children’s weddings would look like, here at the estate.”

  I walked silently beside him, letting him lead me down the corridor towards what I assumed was the main staircase. It was dark, almost black, wood with ornately carved balustrades, and a glossy black marble bannister. The walls here were covered in neat rows of tin tiles; every other one was embossed with a fleur-de-lis. There was something too solemn and cold about the house, as if people were expected to come here to live and die.

  My knees trembled. I wondered what he’d do if I collapsed?

  “Now we only have Asher and, instead of having a wedding in the Great Hall, we’re giving him a witch. It’s tragic how your dreams never really are fulfilled. A shame, really. Do witches have ambitions, I mean, other than stealing souls and serving the devil?” He chuckled. “My son, on his twenty-third birthday. A witch. If someone told me this on the day he was born, I’d have laughed myself into lunacy.”

  My eyes welled with tears. God, when we’d survived the bombs in Distant and Vale and then the raids on our little trailer town, I’d thought I was lucky. I’d lived through the Division and I was starting a life of my own. Granted, it was in the outerlands and there was a lot of misery to it, but it was with Avi. He was my rock.

  But, now I knew I wasn’t lucky; I was cursed. My life was to be a living hell, sanctioned by some insane Fae government.

  And I’d never wished for death harder than I did at that moment.

  He prodded me down the hall and back into the fireplace room. The chair Meleri was sitting was gone; in its place was an iron alter or podium of sorts, topped with a thick slab of marble.

  Meleri was standing off to one side, talking to a rosy cheeked man who was almost as wide and he was tall. They abruptly fell silent as soon as we walked into the room.

  “Tobias, you’re looking well.” The fat man extended his arm out. “The leg is doing better, I trust?”

  Tobias clasped the man’s arm near his elbow in some kind of handshake. Arm shake? “It’s mended.”

  “And Asher? I trust he’s ready?”

  “He doesn’t know. I found her today and he hasn’t been home. Circumstances as they are, it’s probably for the best. He’s too vocal with his opinions. Like his mother.”

  Meleri laughed lightly, brushing past me as if I didn’t exist. As far as she was concerned, I probably didn’t. She said, “But he gets his looks from his father.”

  I stared down at the floor, focusing every cell in my body on a soldered crack on the bottom of the alter. It was good work—almost invisible—but in my struggle to keep from throwing up, I tried to follow the line around the base. Whatever happened to it, they’d deemed the piece important enough to save.

  No doubt, if they had to choose between me and the alter, they’d pick it. Just like my parents with Soleil.

  God, it was like I was just cycling down to a different layer of hell: the same shit, just new players.

  The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed down the corridors, rattling the heavy framed portraits on the walls. Meleri’s face broke into a smile, half excitement and half relief. “He’s here. Tobias—fetch him.”

  “He’s not a pair of shoes, Mel. We’ve given him life twice.” Tobias hesitated. “This time, I think, won’t be as easy.”

  “You didn’t birth the little brat. You know nothing of giving life.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. These two couldn’t function without some kind of verbal skirmish; no doubt their love was much, much deeper than my parents.

  Tobias disappeared into the gloomy hallway and, after several moments, I heard the reverberations of his voice in obvious, full argument with a similar sounding, baritone voice. This Asher, or whatever, was obviously well aware this day was coming and was less than pleased.

  A slam resounded down the corridor—almost like the door had been opened and quickly shut—and I jumped. Meleri gasped, lifting her hands to her face to cover her mouth and cheeks. I’d seen it though, the flush of embarrassment at his reaction.

  He was way less than pleased.

  At least we had that much in common.

  The escalated conversation died down quickly. I could still hear the faint banter between Tobias’s voice and the velvety baritone of his son. And then, just as quickly, silence.

  I clasped my hands together in front of me, squeezing my fingers so tightly that the cuffs at my wrists throbbed. It was like the stone had anchored itself into my flesh and was blocking my power. Fine. What would I do, anyway? Blast them all to the ground and the run? Run to where?

  My legs grew weaker. The tremor that started around my knees was snaking its way up my body. I had to remind myself to breathe, to keep the air flowing in and out of my lungs so I stayed conscious. Who knew what would happen if I passed out—what they would do.

  He walked into the room like he owned it, his brow creased in a deep scowl. It didn’t detract from how startlingly handsome he was: wavy brown hair that spilled over his shoulders and a handsome face that might as well have been chiseled from marble by one of the great sculptor’s of Earth’s past.

  Shit.

  He was taller than Tobias and dressed in a heavy, fur vest over a short sleeved gray tunic and tight, black trousers. His arms were crossed in front of his well defined chest and, even from where I stood, I could see curious black tattoos inked into both arms.

  He glared at me.

  Meleri opened her arms to him. “Asher, we’re so glad you’re home—“

  He held up his hand; slender fingers laden with plain silver rings. “This is bullshit.”

  “You’ll watch your mouth.”

  “I am not marrying her.” He pointed at me; his nostrils flared in obvious disgust. “I know what she is.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. He was gorgeous, but that vile attitude made him shit in my book. Fun to look at from a distance, but I wasn’t interested in what I knew was still going to happen—no matter how pissed he was.

  “Son,” Tobias sighed, “you have to understand. We bought her—“

  “Yeah, I get that. You bought her at some auction where they pretend to hire out indentured servants. It’s wrong, Da, and I refuse to get involved with this. She’s a witch.” He spit on the ground. “And, worse, a human.”

  Meleri’s voice was at a near scream. “Asher Coulthurst, you stop. Stop it! You have no idea what your father and I had to go through to get her for you. Raid after raid, auction after auction and we find her. She’s perfect.”

  “I don’t care if she’s the goddess herself, I’m not doing this.”

  Meleri reached over and slapped me in the back of my head. “Show him your legs.”

  I cried out in surprise and took a step forward, trying to regain my balance. “Fuck. What?”

  She raised her hand like she was going to hit me again. “I won’t take that kind of lip from you, girl, now lift up your skirts and show him your legs.”

  My bottom lip trembled; I clamped my teeth down on it until I tasted blood. I didn’t have a choice—I’d lost that freedom long ago, it seemed. Reaching down, I gripped the lacy fabric tightly and lifted up the skirts.

  Meleri shook her head. “Higher.”

  My cheeks burned red and I felt the sting of tears, but I did what she said. I wanted to lift the fabric right up to my face, to
cover the shame and embarrassment. So, this is what he wanted? This is what I was to be measured by? Thigh high stockings and lacy white shorts?

  His eyes flicked down to my legs and, for a moment, his frown relaxed. Just as quickly, it was back. “So, she has tattoos. It doesn’t matter, Mi, you and Da are missing the point. I’m not marrying a human witch. It’s insulting.”

  “Marry?” I dropped my skirts. “I’m not—“

  Meleri was on me in an instant. She grabbed my hair close to my scalp and yanked, jerking my head up so I was looking at her. “Either you shut your mouth on your own, or I’ll get the blacksmith up here to solder it shut for you.”

  She tugged on my hair again and the threw me forward. I tripped over the toes of my boots and skidded to the ground in a heap. Pain shot through my wrists and knees; I crumbled forward, squeezing my eyes closed. God damn it, just kill me now.

  When I opened my eyes, Tobias was reaching for me. He hoisted me up to my feet and grumbled, “Don’t make me take my hand to you, old woman. I paid every penny we had to get this girl and I’m not going to let you slap her around like some fool maid. She’s going to save our son.”

  I glanced at Meleri. She pressed her hands to her face and trembled with great exaggeration. I almost laughed when she spoke, her voice warbled and wavering like she was fighting the great fight to keep from sobbing uncontrollably. She said, “Oh, Asher, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for trying so hard, for thinking that I could force you into something like this. I was wrong. But, you’re all that I have left. You’re my baby boy and I would do anything—anything to keep you from dying. Even buy you this twit.”

  I wanted to burst out laughing. There was no way they were falling for this shit. She was turning the waterworks on to get their sympathy. It was a crock.

  But when I looked at Asher, his face had relaxed. He looked…guilty. “Mi…I just…”

  “I know. You have reservations. Da and I knew you would, but you have to come to the understanding that nothing is going to change. The government’s regulations on energy and the tariffs are killing us. I refuse to let you die like the others. If this girl—this human—can save you, then it’s worth it. You’re worth it, Asher. I just love you so much.”