He will surely kill me now! This is it, Selene thought, her breath catching in her throat as she was led into the dimly lit room by Zephyr. Her eyes darted nervously at the hulking shapes draped in cloth, each concealing an unknown instrument of torment. A shiver traced its way down her spine.
"Stop," Zephyr's voice, low and resonant, cut through the silence. Selene froze instantly, a silent gasp escaping her lips.
He moved forward, his shadow stretching long and distorted in the weak light. With a deliberate, almost ritualistic movement, he grasped the edge of one of the coverings and slowly pulled it back. Beneath lay a chair, its leather restraints glinting, and a table upon which sat a covered bowl.
"Sit," he commanded with his gaze unwavering. Selene's legs trembled, but she obeyed, sinking onto the cold leather. The air in the room felt heavy, charged with unspoken threat.
Zephyr loomed over her, and the first strap tightened around her ankle, a sharp intake of breath escaping Selene. Each subsequent fastening amplified her fear, the leather biting into her skin.
Then, he positioned her hands on the chair's arms. As his fingers brushed against hers while securing the restraints, a jolt, unexpected and unwelcome, shot through Selene. The brief contact sent a tremor through her, a strange heat blooming in her chest despite the icy dread. Zephyr's jaw tightened visibly. He, too, felt the unexpected spark, a flicker of something dangerous and distracting, and it fueled his simmering anger.
Stepping back, he surveyed her, trapped and vulnerable. Selene's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the oppressive silence. She fought to control her ragged breathing as the taste of fear covered her tongue .
"I take it," Zephyr said, his voice a dark caress, "you've never truly experienced a torture room." He gestured slowly around the space, each shrouded object seeming to pulse with harmful intent.
Selene's fear intensified, a cold knot tightening in her stomach. Was this truly her end? Would he inflict unimaginable pain for her desperate attempt to escape?
"How ironic," he continued, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes, "that the daughter of the dark king, a man renowned for his exquisite tortures, has never graced such a… sanctuary." His gaze lingered on her face, searching, almost as if he expected to find some hidden understanding there.
Zephyr moved towards the table, his movements fluid and predatory. "Like the others," he said, his hand hovering over the covered bowl, "I crafted this." He lifted the lid with a flourish, revealing a bowl of viscous, dark water that seemed to shimmer with an unnatural light. "A unique set. Designed for truth extraction."
Selene's breath hitched. The air grew thick with anticipation. She knew instinctively that this was the core of his intentions.
"You have a choice," Zephyr said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Cooperate, answer truthfully wigh yes and No, or face the… consequences." His eyes, dark and intense, held hers captive. "Your racing heart might cloud justice, but that is your concern, not mine."
"Now," He reached for her, and Selene flinched, her eyes squeezed shut. The scent of something earthy and unsettling rose from the bowl as he tilted her head back, forcing her face into the dark liquid. The shock of the cold, viscous water stole her breath. Two agonizing seconds passed before he lifted her, gasping and sputtering, water streaming from her eyes and plastering the thin veil she had wrapped, to her skin.
Zephyr's expression remained impassive, devoid of pity. "Any lie," he stated, his voice dangerously soft, "and this water… will awaken. It will burn. It will sear your skin, your eyes…"
Selene's body convulsed with a fresh wave of terror.
"Now," he said, taking a step back, his gaze sharp and assessing, "your interrogation begins."
Selene fought to regain control, her heart still hammering against her ribs. She closed her eyes, trying to conjure a sense of calm amidst the rising panic. All she could do was reread a paragraph from her favorite book.
"Are you truly the daughter of the dark king?" The question was a low growl, laced with a reluctant hope that warred with his anger.
"Yes," Selene whispered, her eyes still closed, the lie detector a cold, wet weight on her face.
A beat of silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension.
"Did you use dark magic on me?" The demand was sharp, accusatory.
"No," she gasped, her eyes snapping open, meeting his intense gaze for a fleeting, terrifying moment.
Another silence, heavier this time.
Zephyr's knuckles were white as he clenched his fists. If she hadn't used magic…
"Do you know how you got here?"
"No," her voice was barely a whimper.
"Were you sent here?"
"No."
"You wanted to escape out the window?" His eyes narrowed in curiosity .
Selene swallowed hard. "Yes," she admitted, her voice trembling.
"So you have a way to leave the pack?"
"No!" She answered.
"Then how were you going to escape?" The growl returned, sending another shiver down her spine.
"I… I used the clothes… to make a rope…to help me get to the ground" she breathed out the confession.
Yes, she had thrown herself out the window and survived it before but she was not willing to test the goddess's mercy.
"And then what?"
"Then… I would run. Anywhere." The words were a desperate plea.
Zephyr watched her, his expression unreadable. A flicker of understanding crossed his features.
She truly is ignorant of our world, he thought to himself. Who didn't know that there was supposedly no way in or out of the river pack?
"Before you came here, were you thrown off a cliff?" The question was abrupt, unexpected.
Selene's eyes widened in pure terror. How could he know?
Had the sorceress seen that memory as well? Had she told him?
"Answer me!" he snapped, the fragile moment of potential understanding shattered.
"Yes," she choked out.
"Did you know who they were?"
"Yes…"
A question hung heavy in the air, unspoken. Zephyr's gaze flickered down to her lips, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He seemed to wrestle with something internal.
"Do you know about the map?" he asked instead, almost forced.
Selene frowned, confused. "No."
The silence stretched, charged.
Then, suddenly, she felt the pressure on her ankles release, followed by her wrists. She blinked, disoriented, and found Zephyr standing mere inches away, his gaze intense, searching, lingering on her wet face and the way the damp veil clung to her features.
"Get up," he ordered, his voice rougher than before.
She stood, now aware of the suffocating closeness. His large frame towered over her, making her feel small and fragile. Their gazes locked with intense attraction .
Zephyr's unspoken question still hung between them, a tangible thing.
His breath hitched almost imperceptibly. Then, a low growl rumbled in his chest. "Get out. The guards outside will take you back."
Selene, surprised by the sudden dismissal, fled without a word and the lingering intensity of his gaze burned into her back.
Only as she stumbled out of the room did the realization hit her: she had answered some of his questions in full sentences, and the dreaded water had remained inert.
Inside, Zephyr stood rigid with unbearable frustration.
He clenched his fists as the image of Selene's terrified, vulnerable face imprinted behind his eyelids.
What do you feel for me? The unspoken question clawed at his throat, unanswered and agonizing.
The memory of the brief touch, the unexpected jolt, lingered like a phantom limb. He ran a hand through his hair, a raw sound escaping his lips. "Damn it all," he muttered into the empty room.