I woke to darkness. The scent of damp earth surrounded me. Not close. I had room to move. Standing, with my arms stretched above my head, wrists in metal restraints. Blindfolded. Blood in my mouth. Naked.

But I know who I am.

Not who I had been, way back when I’d been a child or even growing up to become a lethal young woman. That would always be a blank. The first time I’d been captured my mind had been damaged beyond repair. But after I’d escaped I’d lived a new life.

One that had ended too quickly.

And this time, I’d walked willingly into my cage.

I’d returned to Cyrus.

Licking my lips, I held still, not breathing, my heart barely beating in my chest, though I knew he could still hear it. The sound would tell him I was awake. Which is what he’d been waiting for.

“Having second thoughts, Lydia?” His lips brushed my ear and I ground my teeth, fighting the urge to jerk away. I hadn’t expected him to be so close. He chuckled softly as he removed the blindfold, only to reveal a darkness so thick, he might as well have left it on. “I’ll let you go if you ask me to. Say the word and this ends now.”

Like hell. I wanted to laugh, but I wasn’t ready to test him. Not yet.

“Good idea.” He walked slowly around me. His tone took on a curious edge. “You’ve never been this quiet. What’s the plan? If I unchain you, will you fight me? Try to escape?”

The survivor in me wanted to scream “Yes!”, but escape wasn’t an option. I was here in exchange for the son of the man I loved. I could take a lot more suffering than that little boy. Until I had some guarantee of his safety, I wasn’t going anywhere.

No point in voicing those thoughts out loud though. Who’d believe me? I could hardly believe it myself.

And yet, I was here.

I was here. I’d been free and now I might never be again.

“I’m curious how long this will last.” Reaching up, Cyrus unclipped one shackle. Then the other. Supported me with a hand under my elbow when I swayed off balance. “You haven’t fed in days. Would you care for something?”

Something? I tried to wet my lips with my tongue, but my mouth was too dry. And water wouldn’t help much. I needed blood, but would he give it to me?

Was I ready to pay the price for it? There had to be one. There always was with him.

“Tell me what you want, Lydia, and it’s yours.” He waited for a moment. Moved away. A tiny flame sparked and a candle lit the room.

Not a normal room. I couldn’t see any doors. The floor and the walls were dirt. The ceiling above looked like more of the same, but the chains had to be bolted into something solid.

In the corner, I spotted a small pile of clothes, folded neatly, which was odd since they were sitting in the dirt. I didn’t have to ask who they were for. Like blood, having them would cost me.

“Go ahead.” Cyrus held out his hand, a calm smile on his beautiful lips. His black hair glistened in the candlelight, falling softly over his shoulders. Even in the dirt room, he looked refined, dressed in clothes that belonged to another era.

In so many stories, he would be the perfect image of the handsome hero. Even now, he probably walked down the street and made women sigh, wishing he’d look their way. Give them that glimmer of hope that a man like him could sweep them off their feet.

Those women had no idea how lucky they were when he kept walking.

“Put the clothes on now, Lydia, or I’ll burn them.” A hint of irritation crept into Cyrus’s voice, as if he couldn’t believe I’d rejected his ‘gift’. His jaw ticked. “I don’t care either way.”

Bullshit. I stepped away from him, approaching the clothes cautiously, every instinct screaming for me to keep my eyes on him, logic telling me it wouldn’t make a difference.

I got the clothes on in a rush. Underclothes. Jeans. A T-shirt and a thick white sweater. More layers than I’d expected. I couldn’t help relaxing a little, now that I wasn’t so exposed.

Would take seconds to change that, but I’d enjoy every one.

“Very good. You’re cooperating.” Another panty-melting smile. Or, more accurately, the sweet smile of a serial killer, but sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. Cyrus held his hand out. “Come here and I will feed you.”

Looking around, I quickly realized there was nothing else in the room. No pretty bottles filled with blood, no other victims, not a glass or even a bag to bite into like a sippy sack.

Only him.

He wanted me to feed from him.

Fuck no.

So stupid, digging in my heels at drinking his blood, but the act was too intimate. He could hurt me, he could use me, but that was different somehow. Enduring, rather than surrendering.

His light laugh chilled me to the bone. Completely unconcerned. He hadn’t moved any closer, hadn’t really done anything at all, but for some reason, his every word, every sound he made, reminded me the worst I could imagine didn’t come close to what he would do. Soon.

These acts of defiance were an illusion of choice. Another move in whatever fucked up game he planned to play. But I couldn’t take my pieces off the board, so what could I do besides keep moving them as though I had any chance to win?

“I won’t force you to feed from me, pet.” Cyrus lowered his arm to his side. “But you will ask to. Actually, I’d much prefer it if you’d beg.”

You would. I pressed my lips together. Damn it, I wanted to sneer at him. Come out with some kind of sarcastic remark. Pretend I wasn’t absolutely fucking terrified.

Doing so would be like asking him to hurt me and I wasn’t ready to do that either. Maybe I would be at some point. Maybe waiting for the inevitable would eventually push me over the edge. Hell, he was probably right. I might even beg for blood from him. Starving wasn’t exactly pleasant.

That illusion of choice was all I had. And I’d hang onto it until he tore it away.

I wasn’t sure how long we stood there, simply facing one another, but eventually, I couldn’t stand anymore. Backing away from him, I lowered to the floor. Falling asleep was tempting, but I didn’t dare.

And he didn’t move.

This fucked up game seemed to entertain him for a lot longer than humanly possible. Than possible for an immortal. Or for anyone sane.

When he sighed, I let out the breath I’d been holding without realizing I had. He came at me so quickly I didn’t have a chance to brace myself. I cried out once as he dragged me back to the chains. Pressed my eyes shut as the shackles closed around my wrists and my arms were drawn up over my head again.

Fabric tore. I heard him leave and didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to know what he’d return with. The violent CRACK! in the air was my only warning. Slicing over my bare flesh. A tug of metal embedded in my skin.

The pain was familiar. Its own kind of escape.