Melisa's jaw felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it and then gone back for seconds.
She sat at the long wooden table, trying not to wince every time she moved her mouth. Last night had been... excessive. Even by Sirah's ridiculous standards. The darian had kept her on her knees for what felt like seventeen hours (but in actuality was more like two), using her throat like it was her personal toy.
[At least tonight I'm getting out of this hellhole. Just gotta survive dinner without my jaw falling off.]
"Eat," Sirah commanded, pushing a plate of roasted something toward her. Could've been beef. Could've been human. Hard to tell with these people.
Melisa took a small bite. Chewing hurt. Swallowing hurt more. Everything involving her mouth hurt like a bitch.
