But there was absolutely no reason that he deserved to be served up on a platter in front of some fanged asshole like dinner, foreign sounds utterly incomprehensible in his pinked ears.
They were in what looked like a throne room, with tall, imposing stone walls and luxurious fabrics over vaulted windows. The curtains were all drawn, pools of luminous moonlight leaking through the center and slotting long beams over Rey’s unfamiliar face. A lengthy strand of pale hair was drawn over one shoulder, skin flushed and waxy with fever.
Right, that was the biggest problem. Not only did he not know where he was, he didn’t know who he was.
One minute he’d been living large on one of his last nights on Earth, the next he’d felt a powerful surge of electricity and lost his senses. His body, his real body, had been weak and brittle. But it was his. He’d been determined to make the most of the time he had left. Rey lived loud and full because it was all he could do. He’d planned to party it up until his final moments, surrounded by his friends and colleagues on that boat in Italy.
But now here he was, whole and fairly healthy and kneeling in front of…some guy?
The man looked bored. His coiffed, inky black hair was topped with a gaudy silver circlet, his body dripping with jewels. His gaze was sober, but he’d pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose the moment Rey had been dragged into the room.
The timbre of the man’s voice when he spoke made Rey want to empty his stomach.
The man gestured at him, but Rey blinked, tilting his head. He hoped it successfully communicated his meaning: I have no idea what the hell you expect me to do, dude.
With a sigh the stranger snapped his fingers, and with a violent lurch that made Rey think he was going to vomit, the sounds around him suddenly began making sense. His burly guards were murmuring to themselves about getting back to the dungeons, and his — captor? — was watching him expectantly.
“I said: What’s your name, human?”
Rey’s eyes widened. “I. Uh. Rey?”
The man hummed, resting a set of long, slender fingers on the arm of his throne. His long legs were crossed, his opposite hand propping up his face. “You sound unsure.”
Rey shook his head, taking a deep breath of the stale castle air. “No, I’m sure. My name is Rey, um…sir.”
“You don’t know who I am, do you?”
Was Rey supposed to know who he was? At this point, all he could be was honest. “No, I don’t.”
“You’ve wandered far from home, human, to somewhere quite dangerous.” The man’s somber expression took on an almost reminiscent quality. A pair of maroon irises pinned him with an assessing look.
“Where am I?” He asked, earning a thump! to his back from one of the meatheads beside him.
“Only speak when spoken to!” The guard hissed.
But his captor smiled an unusual, menacing smile. His canines were white — sharp and unusually shaped. The look on his face was almost…predatory.
“Why, you’re on hallowed ground, Rey,” the man purred. “Welcome to my home.”