Dar was under no illusions. He shook his head. He risked losing the water. But he had to put things straight. Yet again. He cleared his mind of the overwhelming sensations swollen between his legs.
“No secret. I was born with the gift.”
Sweat ran from his armpits down his sides. His chest was inflamed with a fiery breath of pain. His balls were dipped in hot oil. But he insisted.
“Kill me and the gift dies with me.”
The sorceress nodded. Permitting the Beastmaster to drink his fill. As much as he needed. “That would be most unfortunate. Zad has set his heart on immortality. And he insists on getting his heart’s desires. Always.”
Dar saw her watching him. Their eyes bored into each other. He gulped down on the flask. Anxious every moment that it could be ripped away. Whatever control he forced on his appearance, he couldn’t lose sight of the fact that he was on fire. Between his legs he burned like mad. This water was going nowhere in putting those flames out. But he needed to drink.
The sorceress watched. Observed him. A vision of manly statued perfection. Powerfully-built, strong-minded. Putting on a show of defiance. But she had caught sight of the trembling on his tortured flesh. She sensed the fears of being hauled back up again.
To Dar he examination felt like she was reaching into his soul. Thinking she could tease his secret out. But there WAS no secret. He had nothing to give. What way was there out of this mess?
“Noticed a taste? In the water, I mean?”
Suddenly Dar gave a shiver. He stopped drinking. He tore his mouth away from the flask. She was right. He’d not noticed. Too much focused on pain. Too exhausted by this torture. Too thirsty.
A strange taste. Metallic.
What had she put in the water?