Jessamine
I start awake with a gasp, hands clawing at my throat for air. I flail, thrash and kick at an invisible assailant for several minutes. A sharp snarl snaps me out of my reverie and I open my eyes, panting. I see the sky first, the clouds rushing overhead to cover the moon. It’s no longer full, and it makes me wonder if Kier has ridden back home with Moira.
Smoke fills my lungs and the heavy thudding of boots causes me to turn my head to the left. There’s something roasting above the fire. My skin crawls when I take in the skinned prize. It looks like a coyote. Or even worse, a wolf.
Something tugs at my subconscious and I sit up straight. My heart jolts at the sight of the rogue who abducted me. His eyes are on me and there’s something odd about his face in the light. It takes me a moment to realize that his scarf is off and his face…layers of flesh on his face has been burned off, leaving behind scars and disfigurement so profound, it makes me wonder just how his eyes and lips are intact.
I hold in the urge to cringe as I stare at him. That must’ve hurt. A lot. He leans forward, turning the animal over the fire and dread coils in the bottom of my belly. “I wasn’t alone. My companion will find us and kill—”
His hand moves to take up his metal claws and I shut my mouth abruptly. After a stretch of silence in which he sharpens a blade with another, I ask, “Why does Atticus want to see me? He doesn’t even know who I am.”
The rogue opens his mouth and releases a guttural growl, “Jessamine Hunter.”
Hairs on my skin rise and I swallow, trying to move my feet. Only then do I realize my ankles are tied together, though on a long leash. Same with my wrists. I look around the silent forest, scanning for possible escape routes. What were the odds that I could escape from this male and not get lost? Little to none.
I jerk suddenly as his words sink in. Hunter? He called me by my father’s last name. There was no way the Rogue Alpha King knew that. My mind whirls in different directions, and something else strikes out to me. I lean forward and sniff in deeply, pulling apart the stench of burned skin and moss. The rogue reeks of burned amber. Like my notes.
Icy fingers of fear claw their way up my spine and holds my throat. “You’ve been dropping the notes on my nightstand.”
He ignores me and keeps sharpening his blade with deep concentration. Does Atticus know about my parents? Is he the one behind those notes? I want to press further, but a howl cleaves the air, not too far from us, and we both gaze at the sky. The rogue drops his blade and lets out a long, wailing howl. I sit still, trembling as another howl joins. And another. Shit. Just how close are we to rogue territory? How long was I unconscious for?
Leaves rustle, and I lean away from the light as a man emerges from the darkness. The tall man dressed in black, tattered clothing, walks over to where the rogue sits on the log. He claps his hand on the rogue’s shoulder, the nasty scar on his face stretching. “Quick work, Farrow.”
The rogue who abducted me, Farrow, only grunts his response. His new companion looks at me and leers. Tossing a blood-stained saber by the fire with the rest of his stuff, he crosses over, his movements tight and slow due to his large frame. Crouching low in front of me, he sniffs twice. His grey eyes, illuminated by delight, look berserk, almost mad.
His fingers grasp my chin, tugging forward harshly, so that the light of the flame lightens my features. “No one said the boy-king’s whore was a belle.” His fingers rise up to my mouth, caressing roughly. Impulsively, I snap my teeth and bite his finger.
He snarls, snatching his hand back, and I’m not surprised when I receive a blow across my cheek. My head lolls left and blood coats my mouth. I feel his hands on my shirt, ripping the fabric and panic sets in. I kick at him and scream, fighting against the restraints and his hands as they grip my breasts. He smacks me again when my feet lands in his side and I feel another hit coming when he is suddenly pulled off me by Farrow.
“No touching, Slyder. Atticus’s orders. Keep your hands to yourself or I’ll rid you of them.”
Slyder snarls, but Farrow’s fingers around his neck do not loosen until he nods and laughs a little. “Geez, Far. I was only playing with her a little. You should too. Hell knows when you might get to fuck a woman with a face like yours.”
Farrow, seemingly a man of little words and no responses, drops Slyder and struts over to his seat. He continues sharpening his sword without a word. I want to thank him, but I don’t. If he hadn’t abducted me, the bastard wouldn’t have gotten the chance to put his disgusting hands on me in the first place. There was also the part where he just had to wait until I’d been hit twice and my clothes ripped, before he decided he needed to interfere. I would be a fool to even think I was safe with either of them.
Slyder straightens and his eyes narrow to slits at me. His face twists and there is a promise of more in his eyes.
I give him my coldest stare before making a show of dismissing him altogether, even if my stomach is in horrible, painful knots. If one of the men treats me like he has a right to my body, I’m not sure I want to find out how the entire encampment of Atticus’ men will respond to me.
I need to run from here. And Lloyd, is he looking for me? I did flee down with my bag—I turn left, searching for it, and I find it not too far from Farrow’s feet. I relax a little, then tense up again. I can’t rely on Lloyd finding me. I don’t even know where I am, and it didn’t occur to me to drop anything important to indicate I’d been taken.
“I think it’s foolish to pass off the chance of attacking at the mating ceremony,” Slyder murmurs to Farrow as he tears off a huge limb from the roasted animal.
“Stupid, is attacking on the night where the castle will be most guarded,” Farrow quips, and his dark eyes slide to me. He inclines his head towards the meat, as if to silently ask if I’m hungry. I look away without responding. I am, but a full stomach means a sluggish mind. I can’t afford to fall asleep tonight.
“Where’s Gav?” Farrow suddenly asks.
“On the lookout. He’ll join us by morning…”
Somehow, between fiddling with the ropes and listening in on Farrow and Slyder’s conversation, I fall asleep. Only to be awoken by a splash of water in my face, and the harsh sunray beating down on me. Licking the water off my chapped lips, a sudden thirst overwhelms me. I push myself into a seating position, itching both my wrists and the binds around them that I had nearly succeeded in getting off last night. The complicated knots have been reinforced. Thrice. I glare at Farrow, who has his scarf is back on. “Up.”
“I need to relieve myself, and wash up.” I seriously doubt the oldest trick in the book would work against him, but there’s no harm trying. “Untie my hands at least.”
He cuts me a dark look that says, “Do I look stupid to you?”
“I’m going pee on myself, and then you’ll be forced to inhale the reek of it all day, all night, for as long as you’re stuck with me.” He still doesn’t look bothered. “You can keep watch, but I need to pee. Right now.”
He yanks me up, adjusting the binds. When he’s satisfied with his work, he points south. “You have one minute.”
Dragging my ass down the path, looking for a suitable spot is harder than normal with the ropes around my ankles, and I’m pretty sure that I’ve exhausted the minute by the time I select a tree. I’m pulling my pants down when I suddenly hear a male’s voice, locked in conversation with another. I twist behind the tree and press myself hard against its trunk.
“It’s Nadine speaking words into his ears again. We didn’t follow him all the way to the borders to be ruled by a rotten wench,” I hear a voice that sounds awfully like Slyder say. My heart races, and I slap my hand over my mouth, breathing slowly.
“Careful, Sly. Atticus hears you speak of his queen like that and he’ll kill you,” his companion tells him.
“And that makes his different from a tyrant how? You know I’m right. The boy-king should be long dead like his father. If you ask me, the only reason Atticus hasn’t killed him yet is because he’s fucking his stupid mother.”
His companion snickers, and I suddenly notice I’m not alone where I stand. Something hisses by my ear and I pull away as quietly as I call, only to find slitted silver eyes observing me. The serpent curls back and I take one step back silently.
“I wouldn’t blame him if he were. She’s a walking wet dream, that one.”
“Oh, wait till you meet the wench we’re escorting. A feisty little beast with tits firmer than my grip. Farrow is being a bastard, but I bet he’s playing the Warden and Executioner game with her, so he can—”
The serpent strikes and I jump back, barely escaping its poisonous bite, and my foot breaks a fallen branch. Slyder and his companion stop talking, and I know they heard. I turn on my heel and run like hell. Farrow might be playing games with me, but he’s a safer bet than Slyder—
I run into a hard chest and rebound, tumbling a few steps backwards. I catch one glimpse of Slyder and I break into a sprint, only to have my hair yanked back and my chest slammed against a tree trunk. Slyder breaths down my neck, rubbing his groin against my backside. “I watched you sleep last night, princess. Shall I tell you what I thought about every time you turned your fat ass in my direction?”
I struggle against him, forcing my head back suddenly. It hits him in his jaw, and I dig my heel into the toe of his boots. Slyder grunts, and he presses my face further into the tree trunk. The rough bark cuts into my skin and I scream, hoping Farrow will come to my aid. A blast of terror hits me like a sledgehammer when his hands dig into the waistband of my pants, ripping the clothing. Cold air kisses the skin of my backside and I cry when I hear the buckle of his belt.
His companion walks into my peripheral vision, and I see him laughing, a disgusting heat slipping into his eyes as he watches. He whistles low, dropping into a crouch and he rests his head against his fist. “Pass her along when you’re done, will you?”
I choke on a sob, struggling as I feel something hard press against my skin. “Stop it, please!”
Slyder grunts against my ear. “We’ve heard all about you and your antics. If pretending is a part of your game, I don’t mind playing along.”
He stiffens when angry thudding approaches. “Slyder, let her go. I fucking warned you not to touch—”
The other male steps into Farrow’s path. “Oh, come on, Farrow. Don’t be a kill joy.”
Slyder resumes his assault, pushing me further into the tree to force my hip back. Tears roll down my cheeks, the air rushing from my lungs. My fingers twitch and I close my eyes, praying and crying at the same time. Please no. Goddess, please no.
The air in the atmosphere shifts, becoming so heavy, I choke. Slyder is torn from my back and I sink to the floor hugging my knees to my chest. Through tears, I stare up, half expecting to see Farrow warning Slyder off again. But it isn’t Farrow’s hand ripping into Slyder’s chest with frightening speed and retrieving the beating organ.
I stare, trembling with a numbing cold as the dark-haired male moves, his hands closing around the other male’s head, and it happens under a second. Too fast for any of us to follow, and the next thing I see is a headless body thumping to the ground, the severed head following in quick succession. The man’s movement blurs again and Farrow, having seen two of his men die in less than two seconds, snarls, retreating with fear in his eyes.
The male follows Farrow, and before I can scream to stop him from killing him, he’s snapped Farrow’s neck and tossed the limp, unmoving body across the forest. I close my eyes, forcing deep breaths down my lungs.
A finger lifts my chin and I force my eyes open. Maroon eyes with silver flecks glinting in them stare back at me, and a lazy grin spreads across cruel lips. “Now, you owe me, Violet.”
I flinch from his grasp, pressing back into the tree as I hug myself tighter. A sob escapes my lips and I shield my face from him, needing to wail to feel alright again. My skin crawls and I hate that I still feel Slyder’s hands on my rump, parting each cheek. Darrock says nothing, crouching there until I wear myself out.
I raise my head, sniffing. “I have nothing to give in return, and I will kill you if you touch me too.”
Darrock leans forward, puzzling over me as if I was a peculiar looking insect. “Oh, you have nothing I want. Not yet.” His hand snaps inhumanly fast, wiping the tears off. “I suppose I could collect these,” he murmurs, regarding the tear drop with an interesting expression. “Fill up pitchers and get drunk on them.”
I suddenly remember why I dislike the emissary. “Go to hell.”
He straightens, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his jacket. He lifts his bloodied hand to his mouth and licks it. I cringe and gag. He catches me watching and arches a brow. “Get off the ground, princess. I’m taking you home.”
I blink. “I was banished from the pack. Kier won’t take me back.”
Darrock looks at me funny. “Odd that you’d think I would refer to Neredia as home. I’m bringing you to Dawn.”
I stiffen. “No.”
He sighs. “I’m a man of little patience, Violet. Don’t push me. I’m not beyond binding you and giving you a concussion to get you there.” He pulls off his duffel bag and retrieves a pair of clothing from it, tossing them in my face.
“Wear that. I’ll be by the clearing. If you run, I’ll catch you and bind you.” A creepy grin spreads across his lips. “We’re going to have so much fun, you and I.”