SYN
The woman who was tending the deep lashes on my back was humming as she worked. She was dressed in a sparkly, short black dress with bangles all over her arms, her hair in an elaborate updo, like she was going to some kind of nightclub and not fixing my wounds. She’d already tended to my leg while I’d been passed out from blood loss. I wasn’t sure what kind of witch she was, but my leg was barely twinging. I still felt incredibly weak though, like a gust of wind could topple me over.
She was dipping cloth into some kind of sweet-smelling liquid and then carefully placing the wet cloths into my wounds.
There was almost instantaneous relief each time a cloth was placed on my wound, and between my shifter healing and whatever magical stuff she was using…the wounds on my back were healing fast.
The injuries inside me, the mental ones from what had happened…it might take forever to get rid of those.
I came to, laying on my side, a sob bursting from my lips as the full spectrum of pain from the wounds across my back came into focus. I didn’t want him to hear my cries, but I hurt so fucking bad, it was impossible to keep them all in.
Brayden had dropped the whip and was sitting in a chair, scrolling through his phone.
Fucking bastard.
Suddenly he glanced up, his eyes locking with mine. And I began to tremble because that glare in his eye…I knew it.
The lashes were going to be nothing compared to what was about to happen. I moved to shift and he lunged towards me, grabbing my leg and cracking it to the side, stopping my shift immediately as my powers went to work, trying to heal my leg before I died.
Brayden laughed darkly and then kneeled in between my legs, pushing them aside and making me scream as the bone he’d just broken shifted in my leg as he stretched me.
He made quick work of the bra and underwear I’d been in, and then I was laying there bare, a puddle of blood spreading out underneath me.
“Still so beautiful,” he murmured as his fingers stroked up my inner thighs. “Especially when I can’t see your scars.”
I clenched my eyes closed as he made it to the top of my thighs, bracing myself for what was about to happen…
Tears fell down my face as the memory stretched and pulsed in my mind. At least he’d been interrupted before he could actually rape me.
A small mercy. Although it was just delaying the inevitable. As soon as he got the chance, we’d be there again.
She placed the last strip on my back and then stood up and walked into the bathroom attached to the room. A moment later, she appeared with what looked like two small scraps of fabric in her hands.
The witch must have seen the fierceness in my eye because she stopped and raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t try anything if I were you. I assure you, you won’t succeed.”
My shoulders fell, even as I scowled at her. I knew she was right. My wolf growled inside of me, obviously wanting the chance, and I tried to reassure her.
First opportunity I got, where it wasn’t a suicide mission, I would let her out.
Apparently satisfied I wasn’t going to pounce, she resumed walking toward me and tossed the fabric at my chest. “Get dressed,” she ordered.
I lifted the fabric, my eyes widening when I saw how freaking tiny it was. “Are these my underthings?” I asked in a gravelly voice, my vocal cords worn thin from my screaming earlier.
She sniffed, as if she was offended I’d dared to talk to her.
“Those are your clothes for this evening’s festivities. Now get them on. I still have to do something with your hair,” she snapped, gesturing with disgust at my head.
I stumbled to my feet, cringing as my burn scars and the remnants of my lash wounds stretched.
I picked up the clothes and then shifted awkwardly when she didn’t move.
“Can you at least turn around while I change?” I murmured through gritted teeth.
The witch smiled but made a big deal of turning around. “Again, I would remind you it’s not a good idea to try something.”
I didn’t bother answering her. Gingerly, I slipped on the two pieces of fabric, biting my lip in annoyance at how naked I still was. The top basically just covered my nipples, showcasing the top and bottom of my boob like the world’s smallest bikini top. The bottoms were fashioned like a thong, covering my front, but showcasing my entire ass.
Fuck. I could only imagine what I was going to be doing in this getup.
“Are you done?” she snapped. “You’re not allowed to be late.”
“I’m done,” I answered sullenly as she turned around and stared at me appraisingly.
She walked in a circle around me, and I closed my eyes as embarrassment and shame rolled through my chest. I’m sure my scars looked amazing in this.
Not.
The witch clicked her tongue in disappointment when she made it to my back. “This won’t work at all.”
Something hot skittered across my back, and I yelped.
“Perfect. A temporary glamour for the night so everyone doesn’t have to be assaulted by your scars.”
I didn’t thank her. Obviously.
“Get in the bathroom,” she sneered, her hands sparking. I hustled to the bathroom as fast as my injuries allowed me…just in case she got it in her head to turn me into a frog or something.
I couldn’t help but gasp when I saw how smooth my skin looked in the mirror. I reached back to touch it, and flinched when I felt the familiar ridges of my scars.
It was indeed a glamour.
My hair was suddenly yanked to the side and the witch attacked it with a brush. She must have been trying to scalp me based on how hard she was pulling. She grabbed some pins from a drawer and pressed them into my head. Alright, strike the hair removal…she was actually trying to turn me into a human pin cushion.