Struck (A Vampire Novel) ✔

Twenty-Two

"Get down on your knees," Jacobi ordered me without emotion. His expression was so blank, it was unnerving. I would have given anything to see that familiar suspicion or rage painting his features. At least then I would know exactly how bad of a lashing I was going to be getting.

I was trembling uncontrollably, the fear so thick in my veins that I was beginning to be unable to recognize it any longer for what it was. My breath was coming short and choppy, trying to appease my racing heart that thudded painfully in my chest. I lowered myself on shaky legs, the cold floor harsh against my knees.

I kept my grip on my torn dress, clinging onto it against my chest as though it were a sole life raft in the midst of an ocean. I jumped when Jacobi moved my hair over my shoulder, baring my back except for the fabric of my bra. His rough fingers snapped the latches apart before moving it to the side as well, leaving my back completely vulnerable. My panic was rising with each passing moment, causing me to begin to hyperventilate.

When I sensed Jacobi's form backing away from me, no doubt preparing the whip that would be eating my flesh soon; I closed my eyes and lowered my head. I was afraid I would be hit around the face or head area. I'd seen horrible things like that on television. It left people deformed and in pain for the rest of their lives. But so many people in films took the beating like professionals, as if it wasn't too painful during the process. I was hoping it would be the same for me.

"Please," Aveline suddenly cried out, causing me to jerk in surprise, "I'll take the flogging. I'll take hundreds of floggings! Please, Royal Audrina Roslind, let her go."

"You may start," Audrina ordered, ignoring Aveline's request.

I heard a deep rumbling growl emit from Jacobi's chest at the order. The rage was terrifying, but the emotion eased me as compared to the void from before. It was while I was musing over this that I missed the sound of the whip swishing through the air before it bit its first bite into the flesh of my back. The sharp pain was shocking. I didn't even respond until the rapid second blow.

A scream tore from my throat, renewed by the third blow. It was the fourth blow that caused my mind to go blank. Suddenly, I wasn't on my knees anymore. Instead, I had Jacobi pinned against the ground with a grip on his hand with the whip, a knee on his other wrist, and my other hand balled into a fist before delivering a ferocious blow to his face. I was deadly silent, with calm over my veins that held me firm rather than the trembling mess I had been just moments ago.

Jacobi was only surprised for a moment before he pushed himself off of the ground, knocking me to the side and pinning me down instead. I struggled wildly under him, the pulsing pain of the bleeding wounds on my back beginning to bring me back to my terrified normal self once again. I screeched, fighting against him for fear of the future lashes.

"Hold her," Jacobi ordered sharply. I was pulled back onto my knees by him, but now had Xander in front of me grasping my upper arms nearly painfully. The pain of the next blow of the whip sent fire through my body. Xander winced as if the blow had hit him instead. I screamed in agony as another strike came. I lunged at Xander, but instead of attacking him, I clung to him desperately. I buried my face into his chest, screaming and sobbing with each following blow until it was only his hold on me that kept me from falling uselessly onto the ground.

The twenty lashes felt like hundreds. By the time it was finished, my back was wet with blood, raw, and pulsing as if its own painful life form. I had passed out multiple times for only a few seconds and was now a whimpering, panting figure of agony and exhaustion.

"Let me heal her," Xander begged with a heartbroken voice, though I couldn't identify who he was begging. He shifted to cradle me against him, his arm pressing against a small section of my back just enough to still send sharp pains throughout me. There wasn't any way he could hold me without hurting me at this point. He was brushing my hair, damp from sweat, from my face affectionately. I could see him only as a blur between my fluttering eyelids.