16. Onora
Chapter 16
Onora
T he cool iron bit into her neck and her screams died, turning to grunts and moans as each jolting stride yanked on her shoulder socket and pressed around her neck. She didn’t know how long they’d been running, but she could feel the skin bruising, and her arms were pinned against him, her legs held by his arm so tightly she couldn’t move.
Consciousness threatened to leave her, but she blinked, trying desperately to stay awake and mark her surroundings. When they finally stopped, he pinned her against a tree, his hand clamping on her mouth. The light was dim, twilight hedging the world in, but she could see the wild panic in his eyes. A panic so normal and feral that he looked like nothing more than a deer caught in a trap.
“If I remove my hand, will you stop screaming? One noise too loud and I’ll snap your neck.”
He was far too strong to fight and leave. She needed to be clever about this and get the key for the shackles from him. She didn’t know why he hadn’t killed her yet, but she felt it coming. There was only so long he’d put up with this behavior, and only so long she’d feel safe being with him.
It had to be tonight.
So she nodded her head, and his hand slowly fell away as he unwrapped the chains and let them fall between them. His chest rose and fell heavily, exhaustion sagging on his body, his wings tucked in, less bold and daring than she’d ever seen them.
There were berries nearby and pinecones that they washed in the stream and ate in silence. Her mind buzzed, looking for any opening, any opportunity. But he kept his distance, his eyes watchful, his movements careful. She tried to spy where it could be hidden. His clothes were simple, meant to be slept in only, so there were only the shallow trouser pockets. Could that be it?
He leaned against the tree, looking up at the sky. “Go to sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
Fuck .
He was too far away, so she moved closer, shrugging as he gave a raised brow.
“You’re keeping watch, so closer is safer,” she said.
He said nothing—he just looked around, focusing and letting her lie down.
She eased her breathing and kept her eyes on him stealthily in the dark. He was trying to stay awake, but exhaustion was evident with every breath in and out. If he would only go to sleep, she could get it off him.
She closed her eyes, listening intently around her, waiting for a change in his breath, or for him to lie beside her. Time passed slowly, every hitch of her breath feeling like a rock falling on cobblestone, and she thought surely he’d know what she was up to.
Then she heard it.
The change in his breath. The slowing down of sleep.
She moved closer, swallowing and praying that he didn’t wake or hear her. But nothing. He was out cold.
Drawing in a deep breath, she reminded herself that she’d done this many times before and, while rusty, surely she could still pickpocket effectively. She reached first in his right pocket, slow and careful. He shifted, but didn’t wake, and she held her breath in harder.
Moving her hand, she felt nothing, so she moved to his other pocket.
His hand flew out, clamping on her wrist.
Godsdamnit.
Even the increase in raider berries hadn’t worked, had they? What in the pit was going on?
He opened one unamused eye. “What are you even doing, Onora?” He sounded so, so tired.
She debated what to say. This avenue wasn’t getting her anywhere. She needed to check him, but if he caught her, it was over. He might even kill her. Probably would.
Heart racing, she racked her brain for what to do. What could she do to explain this?
She could only think of one thing.
Convince him she was under his thrall.
She shifted her hand on his thigh, slipping sensually up, and his eyes widened right before his face contorted into rage. Panic hit her at the same moment that his hand gripped her other wrist and he jumped over her, pinning her to the ground.
“What in the darkest pit are you doing?” he gasped out, confusion lining every feature.
“I ...” Maybe she could still convince him. “I want you.”
It sounded unconvincing even to her own ears, and he flexed his jaw, nostrils flaring in annoyance. “Don’t lie to me like I’m a fool, Onora. What the fuck were you doing?”
His grip tightened, and she winced.
She was going to die.
She brought her forehead swiftly to his, just enough that he let her go as he grunted in pain.
She grabbed another dagger, hidden at her side, and whipped it out, cutting his arm. He grunted, but he had the advantage and quickly took it, flinging it in the stream. Then he straddled her, taking her arms and pinning them under her body so she couldn’t move.
She breathed heavily, terrified, her throat closing in, the world closing in. He held her down as his hands searched her, carefully and slowly rubbing over her body, his eyes not meeting hers, his brow furrowed.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I have to get any other weapons off of you.”
He hated this as much as she did. His hands were deliberate, clinical, sure. There was no heat, no lust in his grazes. He was a male on a mission to keep himself safe, and she hated that her racing heart calmed, feeling, against all reason, safe here, under him.
“Why haven’t you killed me?” she whispered.
She couldn’t reason with it. It made no sense to her.
“I have no desire to kill you, Onora,” he said, finding two more daggers hidden in her boot and tossing them in the stream as well. She had a few more that he wasn’t locating and she hoped he couldn’t. She always kept a few well hidden, and she was thankful she’d decided to fully kit up the day of his almost execution.
She swallowed. Maybe honesty was the best route. “I was looking for the key to the shackles. If you let me go, you can even chain me to the tree and flee. I won’t say anything or tell them where you went. Just let me go.”
He blinked twice, then let go of her wrist, sitting on the ground away from her and rubbing his temple.
“There is no key,” he said.
Silence.
“What?” she demanded.
“There is no key.”
“How did you get this shackle off of you, then?”
Had it been an inside job? Was there a human working with him?
He sighed. “I had a key. I took it off your boyfriend—he’s an idiot, by the way. I dropped it when you struggled against me and I had to flee before we were both skewered by a hundred arrows.”
That’s why he hadn’t killed her yet. He couldn’t. With the shackles being enchanted, as long as they were still both attached, he couldn’t kill her or even break her arm to get them off and leave her behind. She’d be a dead, rotting corpse attached to him until he could get free.
She gave a crazed laugh, and he raised a brow at her.
“What, exactly, has been your plan this whole time?”
“I know a blacksmith in Orc Haven. We would get there, get these off, and I’d send you on your way.”
So he never intended to kill her. Maybe because there would be repercussions for him. Also, if he showed up with her corpse attached to him, good luck getting anyone to help. He needed her.
What would happen when they were free, though? He would kill her, then. No doubt about that. He may say otherwise, but he needed her—he couldn’t show his full hand just yet.
She had only two options. The Hunters find them before he could harm her or play along to get him to Orc Haven and try to get help there.
“I can get us to Orc Haven,” she said.
He eyed her warily. “You know where we are?”
She nodded. “I’ll get us to Orc Haven, and when the shackles are off, we both go our separate ways.”
Holding her breath, she hoped it was convincing—hoped nothing gave her away.
He gave her a pensive look and then sighed. “Okay, but get some sleep now. And no more groping me.”
Her nostrils flared in annoyance, and she thought she saw a hint of a smile on his face as he leaned back, gazing up at the bit of sky visible through the tree. No use fighting. She needed him to trust her. She could rest now, knowing that he needed her alive at the moment. So she laid down, falling asleep as she schemed a way out of this.