Bianca's new world was tiny and white, the porcelain toilet the only chair and the tub the only place long enough for her to lie down. She huddled at one end of the tub, feeling as if she'd taken a shitload of drugs. She couldn't focus on anything farther away than her hand, and looking at her hand made her cry.
She was covered in blood. Her blood. Every hour, he came back and hurt her. She traced the channel of a newly healed scar along the inside of her forearm, where he'd split her arm almost in two in a fit of rage after she kicked him in the crotch.
She hadn't fought him since. While she could heal, she still felt pain. That level of agony was something she never wanted to go through again. What she couldn't heal was the exhaustion that came with each bout of healing. She was hungry and fatigued but too scared to sleep.
Light glowed through the hazy window overhead. It was her second morning in the tub. She wondered how many more there would be and doubted she'd last more than another day or two if he kept draining her blood. Her head sagged against the shower wall, and she wished she could order her body not to heal her, to let her bleed out and die so she didn't suffer anymore.
The door opened, and she braced herself. Talon entered, followed by another man. Talon hauled her to her feet, holding her up by one arm when she wobbled. He took her other with a rough hand and nodded in approval at the healed scars.
"Impressive," the man behind him said. "I didn't think you had an ounce of sense, Talon."
Talon responded by raising her arm to his mouth. He gave a cunning smile as she tensed. She whimpered at the sensation of knives going through her arm and almost fainted.
"Taste," Talon said, handing her arm to the silver-haired man beside him.
The blurry man lifted her other arm and bit into it. She sagged. Talon let her drop. Blood trickled down both arms before her wounds healed themselves.
"Very impressive," the stranger said, kneeling beside her to look at both of her arms. "You taste like honey, love."
She shivered, sensing something truly evil in his monotonous voice and cold hands. She didn't look at him, afraid of finding the devil himself in front of her.
"Your brother's … special as well," the man said. "He'll make a good warrior, one I can train to kill a couple pain in the asses I can't get rid of otherwise."