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Chapter 6

Come the next morning, the martial arts queen jerked me out of bed and hauled me into the kitchen where she’d sat me down and tried to shovel a bowl of oatmeal down my throat, when I’d refused to eat it. With sticky globs decorating both our faces, the floor, and the clothing we wore, I’d screamed in anger that they’d all freeze in hell before I’d eat anything they shoved at me. Slow to learn and stubborn as a mule, hell indeed froze over, for now, almost a week in solitude and locked within my room because of the breakfast fiasco, I realized I was on the losing end of my anger.

Several more days passed, and now I was little more than a puppet—there was no other description for what was occurring to me—they pulled the strings, I danced with their tugs. For the past few days, I’d spent the moments after waking opening my mouth like a baby bird and letting them plug it with food laced with what, I assumed, was a narcotic. They had to be giving me something along those lines, for the dizzy stupor I suffered andthat dimmed my abilities, stayed with me religiously. Ten days had passed since I’d begun my unwanted and enforced visitation, and my eyes supported dark rings around them, black smudges that caused me to appear I was kin to a raccoon. My cheeks had become concave, my complexion had waned to an unhealthy and unflattering shade of grayish-white, and my hair hung in limp, stringy strands. My temperament had suffered as well, for instead of the lust for life I’d always held, I now appeared as if a lithium addict, and shuffled most places I went.

I was involved in just such a shuffle, heading to indulge in yet another unwanted meal, when I literally ran into a wall. Eyes popping as wide as I could get them, I jerked my head up and stared into the startled amber-green ones. I watched Noir’s features change from that of surprise to a look of utter horror, before darkening into concern as, eyes raking several times over my face, he finally hissed, “What the fuck have you been doing to yourself?” Afterward, grabbing my arm, he led me towards a table that held two filled plates and pushed me down into a chair. Once he had assured himself I wouldn’t rebel, he made his way around to the other side, where pulling out a chair, he took his own seat. Then, pushing a plate in my direction, he murmured, his voice soft, “Here, eat something before you pass out!”

Silently, he observed me as I just stared at the plate, making no effort to eat. After a few seconds, he snapped, “Eat, dammit, before I shove it down your blasted throat! Jesus, Lyra, have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately? You’re like a fucking skeleton!”

Gazing down at the plate, I ignored his words, instead, whispering, “Which one did you have them lace this time... The food or the drink?”

With a confused look, Noir murmured, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Shaking my head, I snapped, my tone sarcastic. “Really? This the new game, Noir... pretend you haven’t been having them put drugs in my food or drink?” As I’d begun spitting out my words, Noir had leaned forward and picked up a snifter off the table. Then, with fingers that the knuckles had turned nearly white from the pressure of the grip upon the glass, he’d carried the tumbler to his lips and took a nonchalant sip. In an instant, everything in me went cold, then white hot, and glaring at him, I picked up my plate and hurled it in his direction, snarling, “Here, if it’s not laced, you eat it!”

Disappointingly, my aim was off and the plate flew past Noir’s head as he ducked sideways. However, some of the food managed to dislodge from the plate and splatter in his hair and across his face—covering the bridge of his nose and cheek in a glob of gooey matter. Before I’d chunked the plate, Noir had taken another sip of his drink, and now choking on it, he spewed brandy onto the table. Gasping and coughing, he pounded at his chest, trying to return air to his deflating lungs. Seconds ticked past as he struggled, and I watched, unsympathetic.

After a few minutes, his air moving again, he reached up and swiped the goo from his face then flicked the concoction back onto the plate before, scraping his chair back, he stood, glowering down at me. Several tense seconds passed before, picking his snifter back up, he turned and walked from the room, leaving me to stare after his departing figure and everyone else staring at me. Settling back in my seat, I took a cleansing breath, pleased with myself for what I had done.

A small grin was edging the corners of my lips when a muscular man came to a stop next to my table. Eyes slowly traveling upward as I took in the sheer size of him, I blinked. The man was enormous! Not in the overweight way either, but in a sheer volume of muscle. His face was scarred and pockmarked, a permanent snarl across his lips and in a voice that was as rough as his appearance, the man growled, “Noir told me to inform you that you and I can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. It’s up to you how you choose to be returned to your room.”

Body puffing with anger, I snapped, “Then I guess you can tell Noir that it’s gonna be the hard way! Because it’ll be over my dead body, that I will willingly do anything if he’s behind it!”

I should have saved my breath. The man heaved a sigh at my words, shook his head, then leaned down, and before I could guess his intentions, he picked me up out of the chair. With one gorilla-proportioned appendage wrapped around my waist, the other under my knees, he subdued my struggles, as turning, he began carrying me out of the room. Laughter followed our clumsy exit, for though I felt as if I had a boa constrictor wrapped around my middle, I wasn’t going to make it easy for the man. Instead, I began kicking and screaming at the top of my lungs the entire way out of the room. Little good it did me though, for we continued down the now hated hallway.

Shortly after my abrupt removal from the dining hall, I was unceremoniously dumped onto the bed. Glowering at the door as it shut behind the man’s massive figure, I hesitated, then climbing off the bed, I darted in the door’s direction, betting I would find it either locked, or the imposing man on the other side of it. However, after having easily pulled it open, I was shocked to see the hall empty. With suspicion, I peered up and down the hall’s length before, stepping out, I began running down the murky dimness of its length.

Halfway down it, I hastened my steps, almost sprinting down its length as I headed toward the same door I’d been carried through earlier. Finally reaching the door, I paused, my heart thumping in my throat as I pulled it open and poked my head through. Ironman stared back at me with a smirk on his lips.

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