I quickly used the rough outhouse and, shaking, washed my hands in the basin of cold water next to it.

Hoping against hope that a miracle would break through and save me, I stumbled behind Hanna as she led me through a maze of tunnels. It must have taken only minutes, but it felt like hours. Then, without warning, we were at the entrance to a gigantic chamber. A huge platform sat in the back of the room, and a smaller throne, sculpted from the very rock, sat in front of the dais. Instinctively, I knew that the platform was for Hyto when he was in dragon form.

As we stood in the entrance, a faint noise emanated from behind the platform. There, in the light of a fire that burned brightly to one side, stood Hyto in his flowing robes. His gaze caught mine from across the room and, never once looking away, he crossed the floor and settled on the throne. With a single motion, he gestured for me to move forward.

Hanna caught her breath and I heard a catch in her throat as she stroked my hair and whispered. “I’m sorry, Camille. I’m sorry. I hope . . . I’ll be here when you . . . if you . . .”

“If I survive,” I said slowly. And then, because there was nothing left for me to do, I moved forward, into the dragon’s lair.

A low drumbeat seemed to follow my footsteps—perhaps it was the beating of my heart—as I slowly approached Hyto. I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered. I wanted to cover my breasts, to cover my body, to slink away, but I knew that he wanted me to feel that way. He wanted to humiliate me, to break me, so I forced my shoulders back and did not look away.

As I approached him, his gaze fastened on my body, and his hair wove around him, waving like the arms of some wild creature, sinuous and terrifying—totally unlike how Smoky’s hair moved on its own.

“Ah, here she comes, with rosy cheeks and breasts so bare . . .” Hyto’s voice was thick with sarcasm as he leaned forward. “If you were a dragon, you’d be an ugly duckling. As it is, for a mortal, you are attractive enough.” He paused, and then suddenly one loop of hair shot forward and punched me in the stomach hard enough to knock me off my feet.

With a startled cry, I went stumbling against the rocks, feeling the backs of my thighs scrape on a sharp ledge. Hyto laughed.

“Stand up, girl. Now.”

I scrambled to my feet, trying to ignore the sting from his lash.

“Rule number one: When I address you, you will reply, ‘Yes, Master.’ Do you understand?” There was no room for negotiation in the command, and I knew better than to piss him off. Much better to pick and choose my battles, and this one wasn’t worth fighting.

“Yes, Master.” I forced my quaking voice to form words.

“You learn quickly. Second rule: Whenever you enter my presence, you kneel until I command you to stand.”

“Yes, Master.”

The same strand of hair that had knocked me off my feet landed on my shoulder. I didn’t wait for his prompting. I went down on my knees and this time avoided getting hit.

Hyto stood and moved forward. I could feel the shift in his mood.

Trained to keep my eyes on my opponents, it took everything I had to force my gaze to the floor. I’d met men like Hyto before—men who thrived on total power, total ownership. It was like staring a mad dog in the face—they’d kill for such affronts. I’d play the game, buy myself some time.

As little hope as I had for getting out of this in one piece, the more someone tried to humiliate me, the more I wanted revenge. And if Hyto took me out, I planned on doing as much damage as I could to him before the end. But I’d have to bite my tongue . . . wait for the right moment.

As his boots—white fur beneath the robe he wore—appeared in my line of sight, I struggled to keep myself calm. Or at least as calm as I could manage.

Tendrils of hair reached beneath my arms and lifted me off my feet so that they were holding me in front of him.

“Look at me, girl. Properly.” The command was slow, sinuous.

“Yes, Master.” I forced myself to meet his gaze without challenging him. I didn’t want to see what I knew was there.

Desire. Lust. The will to hurt, to punish. The hunger for my pain. Oh yes, he was a sadist, just waiting to unleash himself on me.

“First, the collar.”

And while his hair held me, he reached out and fastened a snow-white collar around my neck, with a silver loop in the front. When he snapped the buckle shut, I shuddered and realized that the collar had magic in it—what sort, I could not tell, but the energy flowed around my body and made me feel like I had an itch I couldn’t scratch.

“Who am I, girl?”

“You are my Master.” The words turned in my stomach, but there was nothing to do now but obey.

“That’s right, and I can do anything I want with you. I could break your neck, or fry you up and eat you for breakfast. I could hang you over the cliff and watch you dangle there, freezing to death, left for the mountain vultures to pick clean.”

“Yes, Master.”

He chuckled, looking all too delighted. “Or . . . I could . . .”

The next moment, I felt another tendril of his hair curl up my body till it found my breasts. It coiled like a serpent, twisting around me like some rope out of a Japanese bondage scene. The pressure on my breasts was so tight I began to sweat, but then it eased off as the strands began to massage my nipples. I relaxed, grateful that the pain had stopped, when another strand—thicker this time—reached between my legs, caressing my thighs, caressing me between . . .

Oh fuck. No, please no. I closed my eyes, but the strands thrust my thighs apart and began to explore every crevice I had.

Hyto growled. “Look at me, I said. I want to see your face. I want to see your eyes.”

“Yes, Master.” Whispering, I opened my eyes again. He was grinning, feral and wild, dangerous as only a mad dragon could be.

“Oh, my pretty one. My son’s wife. What a joke. You’re not fit to be an entrée—you’re dessert, you know that? Simply dessert. Whipped cream. Except that because you hold my son’s heart, you are a crown jewel to me right now. My ace up the sleeve, so to speak. And that excites me.”

And with another horrible laugh, he swiftly thrust a thick strand of hair into me, shoving the flimsy material of the thong aside. I struggled, but he held me tight with that horrible snakelike mane of his.

I let out a single scream, then bit my tongue as he suddenly pulled me to him, more of his hair holding my face to his as his mouth sought mine. His tongue deep between my lips, he kissed me, but he did not touch me with his hands.

And then the ravishment began in earnest; those crazed eyes pierced my heart as he toyed with me, never touching me with his hands, only with his hair. How much time passed, I couldn’t tell, but I was raw and bleeding by the time he was done.

When he was finished, the strands abruptly withdrew, dropping me on the floor. I lay there, whimpering.

“Enough for now. I cannot have you expiring on me before Smoky finds his way here. We have plenty of time for more fun later on. I’ve business to address. The woman will attend to you. You will bathe and eat and sleep. I won’t have a filthy toy in my presence. It’s bad enough you are mortal.”

As he paused, I realized he was waiting for my response. Fury and pain racking my body, I forced myself to my knees. Unsteady but managing to keep upright, I threw caution out the window and stared up at him, refusing to look away. I wanted to memorize his face, to memorize every crag and wrinkle, every scar. Because somehow, someday, I would watch him die—in pain, in anger, in absolute agony.

But for now, I knew I needed to survive. And so, as he waited, ready to slash me again for impudence, I merely said, “Yes, Master.”

And then he was gone, like a thief in the night, and I was alone.

Hanna hurried in to get me, even as I curled in a ball on the floor. One look at her face and I knew she’d witnessed everything. She mutely offered me her arm and I leaned on it while she led me back into the chamber. I could barely walk, and blood trickled down my inner thighs, which were rubbed raw from the roughness of his hair.

“Get the collar off, please.” I tugged at it, but she shook her head.

“The Master fixed it with magic. It won’t come off. I’m sorry, Camille, I’m so sorry.” She had drawn another hot bath.

“How long . . . how long was I with him?” It felt like forever.

“Half the night, my dear. Here—it will sting something fierce, but the water and herbs will help you heal. Get in the tub.” She stripped away my clothes and tossed them in a corner.

I couldn’t even manage to step over the edge of the tub, I hurt so bad. Hanna bit her lip and helped lift me into the water. I let out little whimpers of pain, but then a slow numbness began to seep through my legs and stomach, and I welcomed it in. Hanna must have put some sort of anesthetic in the water.

I stared mutely into the water, at the bruises and scrapes that covered my body, and all my resolve dissolved in a flurry of tears. My stomach twisted and I quickly turned to get on my knees as I leaned over the side of the tub. Hanna noticed my difficulty and brought me a basin. I vomited everything I’d eaten earlier. She held my head, stroking my hair, wiping my forehead and the back of my neck with a damp cloth.

When I was finished, she gave me a drink of water and I rinsed my mouth, and then she settled me back in the tub and handed me a mug of hot tea. The fragrant scent of berries rose to calm me.

“Thank you.”

She bit her lip. “I want to do more. I want to do more . . .”

“Your son. I know.”

“It’s not right. I was born a warrior woman. Now I serve an evil dragon who blackmails me with my kin. I’m a coward.” Her eyes were filled with shame as she fetched a wash-cloth and a soft soap. She motioned for me to lean forward. “I think I have some choices to make,” she said softly, washing my back with the soap and cloth, taking care to go gently over the bruises and cuts.

“I will not ask anything of you. But if you decide to help me, babe, I can sure use it.” Bleakly, I sipped the tea. It calmed my stomach and began to unknot some of the pain that Hyto had thrust onto me.

Smoky had never treated me this way. We played our bondage games, but they were love games—consensual, joyful, with pleasure rather than pain.

Hyto had invaded me, violated me in a way I’d never before experienced. In Otherworld, long ago, my boss—Lathe—had tried to blackmail me into fucking him, but I’d managed to squash that little game with Trillian’s help. But this . . . this outright assault . . .

I thought of Menolly and what she’d endured at the hands of Dredge, and the thought made me stronger. Hyto had hurt me, yes, and he would probably kill me, but he wasn’t going to turn me into a vampire. And so far, I’d been able to bear the humiliation he craved. I’d learned to be strong over the years.

Seeking comfort in the thoughts of home, of my loved ones, of everything we’d been through, I cemented my resolve. Hyto might kill me, but he wouldn’t win. No matter what, he wouldn’t win against me. And come what may, I’d at least make the cocksucker hurt like a house afire before he took me out.

Chapter 12

After my bath, I was able to step out of the tub on my own, though I was bone weary and ready to crash. Hanna wasn’t able to take off the collar, so I had to wear it. It reeked of Hyto, his musky scent filling my nostrils.

“Please, do you have anything to take away the odor?” I gestured to the leather. “It smells like him.”

She quickly fetched a bottle and I rubbed a little of the ointment under my nose. It was almost like Vicks . . . and strong enough to block the smell of the dragon without angering him. Relieved and wrapped in a thick blanket, I let her lead me to the table, where I saw that she’d prepared a light meal of eggs, applesauce, bread, and honey.

“This should settle on your stomach without too much problem,” she said, handing me a glass of wine to go with it. “You must eat to keep up your strength. But . . . before you do, I hate to embarrass you.”

“What?” I asked, thinking there wasn’t much she could do to further humiliate me beyond what Hyto had already done.

“I need to put a salve on your thighs and . . . your privates. The Master roughed you up pretty badly, my dear. And we don’t want the skin to get infected.” She held up a jar.

Blushing, I nodded and leaned back, spreading my legs. She was quick, with a light touch, and she spread the salve on the injured parts of my body. She also spread some of it on the purple blossoms spreading across my back and stomach.

“It will work for the bruising, too. There now, eat and then you must sleep. We have no idea when he will call for you next.” She fixed the blanket, tucking it around me again as she might tuck in a child.

“How long . . . how often . . . did he call for his other toys?” I glanced up at her, not wanting to know how many women had suffered over Hyto’s lifetime.

She swallowed hard. “You are the first who’s returned from his chamber.”

I stared at her. “The others . . .”

“One night. The past few years, I’ve cleared away the bones of at least two dozen young women . . . the Master created this retreat some time back, before . . .” Hanna glanced around, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Before his wife forced him out of the Reaches. I have been captive here for five years. In that time, all of the women brought here have died.”

My stomach lurched again. So he’d had this chamber while still married to Smoky’s mother. I wondered if she knew about it. And if so, what did she think? I couldn’t imagine her being pleased. From what Iris had told me, silver dragons—like Smoky’s mother—were at the top of the dragon food chain, and it would be an embarrassment to have a white dragon husband prone to behavior like this.