Chapter 4 Charisma Pov

The room. I stare at it. When my men had said they had found something, I had thought it was merely a study containing valuable paperwork or something equally ridiculous, not this torture room. I look at the whips, the small vials of silver, the various implements sitting on a trolley and feel repulsed. There had been a good reason this room had been heavily fortified. This was unlike anything I had come across before. I walk in, unable to stop the tears shimmering in my eyes as I smell a familiar scent. It’s his. It’s my mates. He’s spent time in this room. I finger the whips, taking in the length of them, the various tails. They are small and then range to huge. I can feel dried blood on them. I glance around, taking note of something that is intriguing in the corner. A large coffin style box. Dread rises inside me. “What is that?” I ask quietly. My men shift on their feet, glancing towards each other. “We’re not sure. At first glance it appears like a simple box but the closer you get to it, the more it feels,” he pauses, “off if that makes sense.” Off? It looked relatively harmless except for the fact there was a lock inside of it. I frown, heading directly to it. My men make an attempt to stop me, but I refuse their protests, standing in front of it and closing my eyes. The box has an aura around it. A dark one. I run my hands over it and inhale sharply. Magic. There’s some sort of spell on this box. I lift the lid, expecting to be hurt, for something to come lunging out of it, but the box is plain wood. It’s nondescript. Plain. There’s nothing inside of it. “Maybe it’s just a box,” one of my men said, coming up beside me. But I’m not so sure. There’s evil magic lingering on this box. Why would it be in this room with all these torture devices? Sure, one could lock up a person inside this, but the average shifter would be able to break out of it easily. Even my mate should have been able to kick his way free if he’d been inclined to do so. I ponder the conundrum, tapping my chin and come to a decision. “I’m getting in,” I decided. Nervous glances from the guards. “Your highness if something was to happen to you…” one began. I waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing will happen. It’s just that I’m not sure this is a simple box. It’s got magic lingering. I want to see what happens when I get in and you close the box on me. Do you understand? I feel as though something is designed to happen once you are placed in the box and the door is shut. Why else would it still be in one piece?” I asked knowingly. They still look nervous. One clears it’s throat. “Your highness maybe one of us should take the risk then. If you lose your life…” I stare at him. “Are you implying that your life is worthless?” I said bluntly. “every one of you is worth just as much as I am. How many of you have families back home?” I asked and they glanced uneasily at each other. “Exactly. Not to mention my strength is a lot more than yours. If I have to break out of the box I will” I said calmly “but in the meantime let’s test it out.” They sigh. I open the lid and then stand in it. So far nothing has happened. The men relax slightly, I run my fingers against the wood but it’s normal. Nothing special about it. I begin to lie down, putting my hands across my chest. “Close it,” I order huskily. Images of my mate inside of this, cause me to grow angry. I want to see what he’s experienced and getter a better understanding of what he’s gone through. This is tame in comparison. I close my eyes. I hear the creaking sound of the lid slowly being closed and then hear the thud when it’s fully shut. For a moment nothing happens. I am perplexed when it feels as though my body is paralysed. I can’t open my mouth. I can’t move. The magic is coming to life. I struggle against it but then images begin to appear in my mind, my worst nightmares coming to life as I’m forced to relive them again and again. Being buried alive; Sand slowly poured over me, my hands and feet tied, a gravestone in the ground above me. I scream, begging to be released, trying to break the bonds that tie me. The sand continues to rain down on me. I can feel the coarseness of it as I cough, the sand slowly rising ever so slowly, until it covers my face and I begin to suffocate, my vision growing dim and then darkness consuming me. It flickers to another image. This time, I am being sexually assaulted by several men, their laughs filling the air as they take me. I can feel the pain as they penetrate me, feel the sharp stabbing pain that courses through me. I’m helpless beneath them, my strength gone, forced to endure the violation over and over again, their bodies moving against me, their hands roaming all over as they pinch and slap. I cry, tears flowing down my cheeks. The images are so real, containing me in it that it’s like I’m living it in reality. I scream but it’s silent. It stops. I don’t have time to breath a sigh of relief before another one flares to life. This time I’m being executed, my head in stocks, the guillotine above me. I can see it hovering, the sharp metal glinting in the sunlight. My head is bowed low. The crowd around me jeers, several throwing items at me. One hits my head, causing it to bleed. The pain is shockingly real. I can feel the blade as it suddenly begins to drop, feel the air on my neck as it plunges down and then, it hits me, my head suddenly severed from my body and dropping several feet away, my eyes wide open in shock as I stare back at my lifeless body. I want out but I can’t move. It’s as though my body refuses to cooperate with me. I want to struggle, to call out to my men but nothing. The first image comes back to life and I can feel tears trickling down my cheeks. I brace myself but then the lid to the box comes plunging open and I stare wide eyed as I see my mate standing there, panting as though he’s run all the way here, a look of fierceness on his face.