How does it feel? (Infatuated Fae Book 1)
How does it feel? – Chapter 9

Callie

It has been two weeks since I woke up in the dungeon. Unless my calculations were off. I was going off tally marks on the wall and tracking the guards’ shift changes.

At first, all I did was cry. I must’ve sat at the large iron bars of my cell and cried for days.

No one came to save me.

The police never came.

Earl, Cecelia, and Cliff never barged in, knocking down iron bars to set me free. My family never burst through the stone wall of my cell to get me out.

I never rose up in a sterile hospital bed to replace my family surrounding me.

Deep in the marrow of my bones—something instilled in me since I was a child—assured me that someone would come and save me. That some type of guardians would come to help me, the police or firemen, the army or the FBI, perhaps a hidden sector of the government that I had never heard of before.

Someone would show up to help me.

A familiar face would suddenly arrive and draw me into a firm hug. My nose would fill with scents of comfort and safety from being smashed against their shoulder hastily. They would wipe my tears and tell me everything would be okay, that I would be safe. They would squeeze me tightly. The very moment their arms circled me, the tension would wane from my muscles because I would know that I was safe and that they would take care of me—that no one else could hurt me.

But no one ever came.

Sitting in the dark, alone in the small cell, I thought my mind had left me. That I had gone mad like Earl.

Days on end, I fasted, refusing myself the small meals of rice and bread I was given in the glorified hope of detoxing my body from whatever hallucinogen must be in my system.

Maybe I just hadn’t woken up yet?

I wouldn’t give up. For the family I still had, I would do whatever I needed to so I could return to them.

My name is Callie Peterson. I am a proud environmentalist and biological technician. I was walking through the forest to get my microscope when I stumbled upon an anomaly of luna moths and a perfect circle of destroying angel mushrooms. After stepping into the ring of mushrooms, everything else became . . . less real. I live at 4313 Sassafras Road, Willow Springs, Michigan. My name is Callie Peterson. Proud environmentalist and biological technician, walking through the forest to get my microscope, when I stumbled upon an anomaly of luna moths and a perfect circle of destroying angel mushrooms. I live at 4313 Sassafras Road, Willow Springs, Michigan.

I’ve repeated this back to myself hundreds of times a day, needing to be certain I would remember when I woke up in the hospital and they asked me what I remembered last.

I pressed my back against the cold stone of the damp dungeon wall, and the rigid rock dug through my filthy black dress and into my skin. I closed my eyes with relief at the feeling. Any feeling other than fear and worry.

My hands had been chained together by large iron brackets with a long, heavy chain that hung to my knees in between. The always cold metal bit into my wrists painfully, but again I welcomed the pain as a reminder that I was still alive enough to feel something.

There were no windows, no cracks that enabled me to see the sunshine outside, though a part of me doubted the sun would ever bother to shine here. Everything I had seen and heard reeked of gloom and darkness.

The dungeon was an accumulation of small cells with dirty stone and brick walls, each sealed in with a set of foreboding iron bars. Inhuman cries and noises echoed from the neighboring cells every hour. No one but the guards spoke. Everything was filthy and covered in a grimy brown tinge. The space was so dark you could only see a few squares of amber light on the stone floor as the hall torch shone through the bars of my cage. The only light in the cell besides that was a tiny sliver in the brick. The small fissure appeared to lead to a hallway or other room with a fire or torch of some kind that lit its interior. It was a small break in the wall, and the most I could see was a flickering change of light if I pressed my eyes against it long enough.

Shortly after I had found the crack, I was determined to replace a way out. I spent all my time devising plans and working out theories on how I could tear down the wall and escape.

The only people I ever saw were the guards that commanded the dungeon or put the food plate in my room. If they hadn’t decided to eat it in front of me that day.

Most of the time, they wore thick black armor that almost covered them completely like reapers and solid boots that beat loudly against the stone floor as they walked up and down, occasionally pissing or shouting into the cells. The cries and curses of the others would quiet in a slow wave as they passed the cells, the cries growing louder once they passed.

A few would regularly stop and stare into the bars of my cell. They never spoke to me, but I heard what they said to each other. From what I had gathered, they were Fae but not the good kind. It sounded like they were closer to hell as far as the fairy realms went. I had only heard mention of the Seelie and Unseelie Fae realms, which is where I was, and as far as I could tell, they despised each other. The Unseelie seemed to hate the Seelie Fae even more than they hated humans, though, from a few conversations I’d overheard between two of the younger guards, no one hated humans more than the Smoke Slayers—the prince and queen of the Unseelie court. From my eavesdropping, humans were even seen as an exotic sexual delicacy by several of the other royals. Lovely.

One night I was startled awake by a snarl.

One of the guards stood outside the large wall of iron bars, nothing visible but a giant silhouette that peered into my cell. At first, I thought the snarls had come from him, but immediately two other guards flashed to his side, appearing out of thin air to grab his arms and pull him away.

I noticed the short guard from the day prior lying on the floor in a heap of armor, snarling wildly in pain. That had been the sound that roused me.

The guard that towered outside my cell cried.

It sounded similar to the whine a canine or lupine would make.

I hurried from the cot to hide in the corner. I had no protection here, and the darkness that hid me only made me feel a fraction safer. As soon as I moved, the towering guard cried louder and attempted to pull the door to my cell open

Two more guards appeared at his sides. Four guards in total attempted to pull him away as he clamored to gain entry into the cell.

I shook so hard I couldn’t see straight. The mournful depths of his cries caused me to shut my eyes for a few seconds to try and trick my terror-stricken mind into thinking that it would be all right and he wouldn’t get in.

When I lifted my eyes again, I caught the last moment before all the guards vanished, including the one on the floor. The large one in the center had pulled off his black metal helmet, and for a split second, I looked at the face that cried like a dog to get in and kill me. His face was covered in fur, complete with pointy wolf-like ears. It was as if he were part man and part wolf. The dark brown fur appeared almost like a beard that had gone wild on his face. His bright brown eyes stared pitifully into mine, locking onto me as if he could see right through the darkness and witness my every move. His expression of anguish both shocked and rattled me.

He looked devastated, not angry.

Where had they gone? It was as if they had been there, and then they . . . they just weren’t. I stared in disbelief.

This was real.

There was an ache in my heart seeing the giant guard’s face. The same feeling that put my soul in a vise when I saw a wounded or hurt animal. The same feeling that overwhelmed me with the need to make sure they were safe and taken care of.

Feelings stirred in my gut that something was wrong with him, and I couldn’t help. Why had he looked at me like that? What had happened to his appearance? Next I’d learn werewolves were real or something equally absurd.

A harsh scurrying sound startled me from the numb safety of my thoughts.

A large brown rat squeezed itself out of the crack in the brick, scraping the greasy fur of its back as it squished its large body through.

Rats were nothing new; they constantly scampered around the cells. Sometimes I would have twenty or more in my small cell at one time. They were sweet, and I enjoyed the little company they gave, even occasionally huddling up to cover my freezing feet. They never stayed long, always running around frantically as if they, too, were prisoners and terrified of the guards. Maybe they were. That seemed like an entirely different type of punishment, being turned into vermin.

This one seemed different immediately. For one, it was much larger than the others. Instead of just walking through the bars, he squished through the crack in the brick; none of the others had come from there. I would have doubted they could fit, and his body seemed much too large to fit through the fissure, but still, somehow, it did.

I wasn’t frightened. I’d never really learned to fear animals—other than snakes—as they had never been anything but helpful to me. They seemed to seek me out even, and I welcomed it. In truth, they were the only friends I’d had at times.

This one was different for another reason entirely, another reason I would soon learn.

He spoke.

Over time he frequently kept me company, warning me of the guards on duty and various other helpful tidbits of information he thought would make my stay easier.

One day I managed to save a portion of this super acidic, pickled dish that they frequently included in the meals. I allowed it to concentrate for a few days under my cot. I then took advantage of the highly acidic pickling ingredient they had used and created a paste that slowly ate away at the brick’s mortar near the crack the rat always squeezed through. It took days to complete, and I barely had enough for even this little task, but the thought of hoarding enough so that I could escape stayed in my mind.

I never got his name because he would leave as soon as I asked, so I quickly stopped asking in the hopes he would stay with me longer. He later told me not to ever ask another Fae their name or it would get me killed.

To them, a full, true name held a very strong, very easy-to-command power that they shared with no one. Not even husbands and wives typically exchanged this information.

Occasionally the other rats and hidden creatures would get too plentiful in the small cell so brown rat would arrive to shoo them away protectively. Sometimes it saddened me to see them go, but brown rat never seemed to like them near me.

One day I heard the scrape of the brick being shoved out of place, so I ran to the dark corner, excited to see brown rat.

He rushed through, out of breath.

“It’s coming. It’s coming, and I can’t protect you!” His small but deep voice was filled with panic as he struggled to catch his breath.

I paled. My heart felt like it stopped beating as I processed the look on his upset rodent face.

“You must listen, it is coming, and I can’t get them to stop it!” He climbed up my shoulder and down the other side in a nervous scamper.

“What is coming?” I asked, my voice nearly nonexistent from fear.

“The forest bog. The prince has ordered it to be moved to your cell!” he cried as he pulled his little whiskers in distress.

“What is a forest bog?” I whispered shakily.

Just then, iron clanged, and the sound of heavy footfalls echoed from the opposite end of the dungeon. The screams and cries of the other prisoners only amplified as they continued down the stone aisle. Slowly the footsteps grew louder as they neared my cell.

“Oh! I have failed you! No matter what, be silent! It will hurt you! Oh, stars!” brown rat cried as he opened his mouth to tell me more.

The iron bars of my door gained a few silhouetted shadows, and I stared at the realization that they were here.

I moved to place brown rat safely behind me, but he had vanished, already gone to wherever it was he went.

My eyes returned to the bars from where I sat huddled in the dark corner of the cell. A stubby, round creature came into view, stepping arrogantly into the cell as soon as they opened it.

The creature’s eyes immediately went to the dark corner where I hid and began laughing a cold, grating laugh.

Could they all see in the dark?

I pressed my back harder against the cold wall behind me, wishing with everything I had that it would magically give way and I would fall through the other side to safety. What did safety even look like here?

The creature was about the height of a human man, maybe six foot or so, round with a greenish tint to its grimy-looking body. It looked like a cross between a toad and a human with no hair on its head. No ears that I could see, but giant bloodshot green eyes stared back at me with a look of wrongness. The eyes of someone who only held malice in their heart. They reminded me of the prince’s cold blue eyes.

“So the prince left me a present after all,” the voice croaked out, sounding infinitely more frog than human.

It smiled the eeriest grin I have ever seen as hundreds of needle-like teeth lined its mouth, with no space left for a tongue as it was filled to the brim with rotten yellow spikes of teeth.

I screamed, unable to stop the cry as I recalled brown rat’s command to be silent a little too late. I slapped my palm over my mouth, praying I could go back in time and muffle the sound.

The forest bog trembled at my scream. It dropped to all four abnormally long limbs and careened its round green head to one side. Red flickered in its eyes before they returned to green while he continued to watch my every move.

“So he is trying to win me over after all,” the bog chuckled to the guard. “Her terror is so palpable I could spend an eternity in this dungeon simply for the delectable scent of her fear,” it croaked hoarsely.

“Prince Mendax said he doesn’t care what you do to her, but once you are close to ending the assassin, His Highness demanded he is called upon to make the killing strike,” the guard mumbled matter-of-factly as he locked up the bars behind the hideous creature. “Watch if you shift to an animal, Bog, we’ve been having problems with the animals and shifters being drawn to her. The assassin is dangerous, that’s why Mendax is gifting her to you,” he mumbled, double-checking the security of the sturdy iron lock.

“Drawn to her? What do you mean? She is human, I can smell it. Not even the weakest of the Unseelie would be drawn to a human,” he spat the words out with obvious disgust. “Other than to hear their weak little mouths scream in pain.” He lowered his voice an octave to growl the last sentence in my direction.

“I don’t know, Bog,” the guard said, sounding bored and confused. “Even the guards that shift are having problems.” He leaned in closer to the bars now as if letting out a secret. “Captain Walter had to be forcibly removed. He was trying to get her out, can you believe that? Captain Walter, the prince’s best friend, attempting to free the assassin?”

The bog’s eyes went black for a second before it shook. It returned to stand on two feet as he turned to stare at the guard with an odd expression.

“Captain Walter?” It turned from the guard back to me, confusion marring its hideous face.

“Just for that, I may keep you alive.” It smiled eerily, licking one of his muddled eyes with a disturbingly long tongue. “I loathe that man.” It snapped its neck as if stretching it to the side to get the kinks out, but it remained hanging grotesquely to the side as if it were broken.

I screamed before both hands flew to cover my mouth. Even without my scream, my heart pounded so loudly I was sure the creature could have heard.

The frog-man got down on all fours again, his eyes flashing red. This time the burning red of his eyes took over the green completely, and the creature let out a moan. It shuddered wildly as it crouched low against the ground, its robust belly pressed against the stone floor.

“Yessssss. I haven’t tasted human fear in eons,” it moaned, holding its head up and closing its heinous eyes. “I doubt I’ll be able to keep you alive till the end of the week.”

Its green belly dragged against the ground as it crawled closer. I was paralyzed with fear. This was it, I was going to die.

Its back legs dragged across the floor with an awkward gait as if only his arms functioned.

“Please don’t hurt me! Please!” I cried, tears dripping from my eyes and heating my cheeks in warm streaks.

I checked to see if the guard was still outside the cell, but he was gone.

The bog’s eyes flared even more red than before as it closed the distance between us before he stopped himself only a few paces away.

At my pleas, it shuddered and began to writhe against the floor.

The slimy-looking creature ground its pelvis against the floor salaciously as it stared at me open-mouthed.

I screamed again, unable to hide the horror from what I saw.

“Fucking hell, that’s good!” it croaked as it ground against the floor aggressively, never blinking as its red eyes stared at me. “I’m gonna empty that weak human skull of yours and fuck it. I’ll be hearing your delicious screams until it overflows with my seed. You’ll be screaming for a week, begging me to kill you.” He seemed to be having trouble moving as his lower half slapped against the ground.

He was literally getting off on my fear.

I tried to stifle my panic, but no matter how strongly I tried, small terror-filled noises still sounded from my mouth.

I shoved my dirty dress down, desperate to cover my body from the disgusting creature’s view, though I knew the skin that showed wasn’t what was getting him off.

It was my terror.

I finally succeeded in silencing my whimpers. This monster would not get anything more from me. I would see my family again. I would leave this place. I refused to allow myself to believe anything else.

I shook like a leaf in a windstorm, causing the frizzy bits of loose hair around my face to tremble violently in my eyes.

The monster ceased humping to narrow its vibrant red eyes at me.

“You think you’re well fortified, huh? Human assassin or not, your fear is tangible. For this gift to my essence, I shall allow Prince Mendax’s army through any forest he so wishes. Though, I will most assuredly not be allowing him the killing blow. No, that is mine also.” The creature flung out his clawed hand and clasped it around my head tightly.

I had to bite my hands to keep from screaming, knowing it would only fuel his need. The metallic tang of my blood filled my mouth, scaring me still more.

I was going to pass out.

The thought of what this creature would do to my body if I lost consciousness sobered me.

It was too much for my human mind; I was crumbling with fear.

I closed my eyes and pretended I was no longer in the dirty dungeon cell but instead, running through a field of wildflowers. I lost myself to the imagery. Sunshine warmed my skin as I twirled and frolicked through the tall array of brightly colored flowers. I imagined what the red poppies might smell like if I pressed my nose to their paper-like red petals, what the tall grass felt like tickling the sensitive skin of my palms.

From my mouth shot out a scream so loud it made me light-headed.

“There it is,” rasped the disgustingly warped creature.

One hand still gripped my head, its claws penetrating the softness of my scalp. I flinched again. Its other large hand clasped my left thigh while long dirty claws hooked into the sensitive skin of my bare upper thigh. The skin tented as its hooked claws pulled across the surface. He rubbed himself wildly against my side now. His long green legs slammed against me as he grew more and more forceful. Suddenly his red eyes widened to the size of saucers as he slowly dragged his nails down my tented skin. The audible tearing of my flesh made an unfamiliar and foul sound in my ears. The creature’s moans and curses filled the entire dungeon as its body unraveled with spasms.

Dark green liquid shot out from between his legs and splattered me across the chest and face.

Tears ran like a river as sobs racked my shivering body.

How could this happen to me? I was going to die getting skull fucked, covered in monster seed.

Suddenly the entire dungeon filled with a thunderous, raging growl so loud and full of anger we both inhaled sharply. It sounded like it was close, the other side of the wall maybe? Another prisoner? I’d never heard anything so terrifying, even during my time here.

The forest bog suddenly froze and transformed, shaping itself into a boulder the size of a large watermelon. The brown boulder dropped from the air and landed on my lower leg, crushing it painfully with the weight of . . . well, a boulder. It thudded to the ground next to me as I whined in pain.

What had made that growl? Was something worse coming to get me? Why had the bog been so hurried to transform himself into a rock? Is that just what forest bogs did to hide? Not missing an opportunity, I shuffled to my feet, wincing in pain at the four long gashes that marred my crushed thigh. I grabbed the large rock with what little strength I had and slammed it to the ground, praying it would shatter.

It did not.

I tried several more times to no avail until I settled on rolling the rock to the opposite corner of the room behind the only other cot in the room.

As I was deciding how I could tie the rock up, it shifted again.

A short log-like creature no taller than my knees scowled at me from where the boulder had just been.

“Do not think you are out of my grasp, human. His anger may have saved you today, but your erotic terror is too delicious to be blanketed by it for long. Sleep well, human. Don’t make a sound, or I will wake extra ravenous.” The now log-like creature had closed its black eyes, done with the conversation.

I scrambled to the corner to hide again as I tried to stanch the blood, all the while waiting in fear for what else was to come.