Taming Darkness

~Aleera-

No, you don't understand, Ma'am. She still has powers. There were snakes, and they-"

"Stop being foolish! You are hallucinating from lack of sleep, Clint." She presses her fingers against her temple. "Why did I even bother leaving you in charge? You really can't do anything right around here." "No, I-I swear," Clint pleads.

My mother releases me, and I drop my head to the side, trying to suppress a smile at his petrified tone. It's like sweet music to my ears, and I hope my neighbor enjoys it as well.

"Get the spinal fluid from her and drop it off with Samson. If you can manage that without any more mishaps, I want you to go home and get some sleep, Clint. You have been awake for far too long, and it is making you unhinged. I need those who can do their job, not men I have to babysit. If I have to have this kind of discussion with you again, I will see you torn apart and fed to our captives. Do I make myself clear?" she snaps, and before letting him answer, she stomps out of the cell, slamming the door shut behind her for good measure.

Clint whimpers after she leaves, his head jerking from side to side as he searches for my pets. Hands shaking as he grabs the syringe again, he creeps his way over to me and timidly presses my shoulder.

I feign unconsciousness, offering only a twitch in response. The confident, smirking man from before is long gone. He nudges me over until I flop onto my stomach, and I let out a groan. He pokes me with one finger before sighing in relief.

"Clint, she's right. You do need to get some rest. Clearly, there are no snakes in here; she's powerless. I must have been nodding off during her session," he says to himself in the third person. He shakes his head and readies his needle again, while his fingers trace down my spine, finding the spot he's going to stab me.

It takes everything in me to force my body to relax and let him take the sample. Every bit of my focus is to not let my body resist or jerk as the needle slips into me. I grit my teeth, thankful his attention is diverted while my eyes water.

The process takes far longer than it should, and the pain is intense, but finally, it's over. The man leaves, still muttering to himself about my snakes.

He leaves me on the cold metal gurney before walking off and closing my cage. I flop back over, ignoring the pain as I stare up at the ceiling. How am I going to rescue my fellow Harmony-Fae? I'm not about to leave them behind; I won't be able to live with myself if I survive and they don't. After all, isn't it my mother who has thrown them in here?

Besides, I have no idea what she has done to these poor people over all these years. Just thinking about that, or what she plans to do to them in the future, makes my stomach clench and swirl.

There are easily hundreds-no, if I'm being honest with myself, probably thousands-of lives locked away in these little cages. My mates will find me, but with the increased danger, all of this could put the Harmony-Fae in greater danger than they already face. Especially if hell breaks loose before I can release them, leaving the Harmony-Fae trapped inside the cells. How will I pull this off without losing any of them in the process?

The bubble of my thoughts pops as I hear heavy footsteps approaching my cell, and I look up. Porter is standing in front of my cell, Lycus' despicable excuse for a father. Has he come here to watch my misery and gloat about his success? Or just stare at me like I was some imprisoned bird?

I had witnessed his atrocities through Lycus' memories, and all of them had scarred me. He could hardly call himself a father, yet I must admit he was better than Lycus' biological father, Lysander. But for a child to have to witness what happened to his mother, then be punished for it afterward, I could never forgive Porter for that. He still disgusts me. Porter may have saved Lycus from Lysander once, but that was for his own gain. He was losing an income source.

All of my assumptions are swiftly proven to be correct from the first line that leaves his mouth.

"So, you're the little bitch that bastard Lycus fought so hard to find and protect, huh?" He turns his head to the side and spits on the ground.

Thank the Fates that Lycus wasn't his. Lycus got his looks from his mother, thankfully; this man is hideous inside and out, so he kind of dodged that misfortune of being Porter's biological son. It hadn't bothered me before with Clint and even her crazed guards, but the lack of covering my gown provides, suddenly makes me feel dirty as this man visibly checks me out.

"I'll admit, you've got a pretty face. I'm sure with those full, pouty lips of yours, there's a use or two for you, not that the bastard deserves to have anyone as a mate, let alone a f**k toy." He shakes his head as if to emphasize the sick statement, he's just made. He chuckles, his eyes flaming. "Much less to have you as their keeper."

Sick f**k. Still, I can't hold back. The bubbling laughter bursts out of me, and the shocked, almost scandalized look he throws at me is almost comical. If only he knew the truth, he'd never smirk like that again.

"The man you're calling a bastard will tear you limb from limb if you come near me. Lycus is more of a man than you could ever wish to be, more than you could become in your wildest dreams," I hiss with every bit of hatred and disgust I can muster.