Free Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5) by Debra Dunbar Page A

not be able to fix myself, but I still could tolerate pain better than any human. Disregarding the broken bones and bleeding, I finally managed to wrap my arms around the staff and Feille’s arm. He yanked the staff backward, punching me in the lower back with his other hand. My grasp slid, hands slick with blood.
    Feille spun about with typical elven agility, and my hands slipped along the length of the staff until I stood two feet from him, each of us holding an end of the staff. The elf spun about again, and I flew, like in a game of crack-the-whip, to smack against the dungeon wall. My hands slid further and I would have lost my hold on the staff if my grip hadn’t caught the round crystal mounted into the end. I braced myself against the dungeon wall and yanked back, twisting as I pulled. The staff flew from Feille’s grasp. Instinctively he covered his head as a protective light burst like a bubble around him. I swung the staff past him, tossing it to the side, and dived at the elf lord. Fuck the staff, I wanted to feel my hands wrapping around his neck.
    The dungeon door fell to the floor with an almighty clang. Six inches from Feille, the bubble around him sparked with an arc of electricity and I flew back, convulsing from the shock and hitting the stone hard enough to knock the wind from me.
    I heard the guards, and saw Feille put out his hand to halt them. “Hold back. I’ll take care of her myself.”
    Like hell he would. I staggered to my feet, taking tiny breaths in an attempt to get my diaphragm back in action. The bubble around Feille faded, and he taunted me, waving a finger to motion me forward.
    I rushed him. Well, staggered toward him, actually. He let me get within five feet, then raised his hands with a shimmer of green. I dove, trying to reach him before whatever spell he’d cast activated. Just as I touched his robes, I felt vines wrap around my legs, yanking me backward and to the ground. They grew from the stone floor; gray and hard at the base, gradually becoming a tough, woody green that bound around my body like iron. I struggled, gasping in pain as the rope-like strands tightened against my broken ribs and cracked bones.
    “My Lord, where shall we put her? Half the dungeon has been destroyed, the spells securing it compromised.”
    Feille’s voice was calm, as if he’d been taking tea in the garden and not fighting for his life. “One of the end cells. Pick whichever one is least damaged. I’ll personally repair any breached areas.”
    He walked toward me as I struggled in the viney embrace, sparking little bits of demon energy in an attempt to burn through the restraints. Reaching inside a hidden pocket of his robe, he pulled forth a silver circle—one that I recognized with dread. With a smile, he closed it around my neck, the vines parting for him as he secured it.
    “I’d like you to stay this way, Az, in this soft vulnerable human form. I’d also like you to enjoy your injuries a bit longer. You’ll assume the shape I want you to. You’ll only heal when I allow it. From this moment on, you will have less power than the lowliest of my human slaves. How does that feel, Az?”
    “Won’t stop me from killing you.” I spat at him, my only remaining way to show defiance. “It may be a week, it may be two, but eventually you’ll slip up, and I’ll be waiting. You’re a world-class fuck-up, Feille. You won’t live to see the year’s end; this I promise.”
    A flicker of uncertainty flashed in his eyes, quickly hidden as he motioned the guards forward. They exploded into action, kicking and hitting me as I lay bound and defenseless. I hovered in a delirium of pain, trying to keep from passing out as they dragged me and heaved me into another cell. Feille examined the protection around the bars and walls with a glowing hand, while I tried to look menacing with my swollen eyes and puffed lips. Finally, he smiled at me and closed the door with a clang.
    “Sleep well, Az.