The taste of metal lingered in my mouth for hours after. Not just the ring, though God knows that was bitter enough but the taste of my own blood where I'd bitten my tongue to keep from screaming. To keep from begging. To keep from breaking completely.
I sat in my closet that night, knees drawn to my chest, staring at the c***k of light under the door. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw their faces. The satisfaction in Renna's smile. The way the other servants had looked at me not with pity, but with relief that it wasn't them on their hands and knees.
And Ryder. God, Ryder.
The way he'd looked at me in that hallway, like he wanted to say something, do something. The way his fingers had traced my face like I was something precious. And then... nothing. He
