Chapter 3
Three
Elara
Blood receded from her fingers, leaving her hands numb. Even worse, Alruna vanished in a wisp of black smoke. Without the draugar nearby, the panther deemed her presence no longer needed.
Elara wanted to cry out for her familiar, needing the creature’s reassuring comfort now more than ever.
Foolishly, Elara hadn’t realized what might happen when she offered anything to a man like this bearded warrior. The anxiety pumping through her overrode rational thought, leaving her standing here, regretting her decision.
However, there was no going back.
“No,” her father snapped.
“Papa,” she hissed, spinning and holding his face in her hands. “Don’t worry. If this is the price for keeping you safe, so be it.”
“I forbid it,” he spat, shaking his head and glaring over her shoulder. “They slaughtered your brother. Your mother is gone. I will not allow them to take you.”
A tight smile pinched her cheeks as she pressed a kiss to his forehead, pouring in so many unspoken promises. Water glistened in her eyes and she blinked it away. If she cried, neither of them would be able to go through with this.
It was more than just her father now; it was the entire village. It was Brynne, her husband, and young son. A sudden pain speared between her breasts, stabbing like tiny shards of ice. She hoped Brynne and her family remained unharmed.
If anyone deserved mercy, it was them.
“You and Momma taught me to be strong. Let me do this, Papa. For the village. I promise you I can handle myself. If you say no, no one is walking away.”
A million emotions brimmed in his eyes, the creases tightening, making him appear much older than his years. She didn’t envy him. If she ever had a child, there wasn’t any world where she could bear letting them give themselves away like a thing to be bartered.
She knew it was cruel to ask this of him.
But if it meant he’d survive, she’d do it every time.
Strong arms wrapped around her upper back as her father enveloped her in a fierce hug. Tears pricked her eyes once more.
“Do not harm my daughter,” he said, his threat directed at the demon.
A harsh grunt puffed past the scarred man’s lips, his brow pinched. He glared at her father.
“To hurt her would dishonor Freyja. I would never offend the goddess in such a manner.”
That name tickled something in the back of her mind, something familiar she couldn’t place. A heartbeat pulsed at her fingertips, a power pleading to break free. Elara shook her hands, willing the sensation to disappear.
Pulling her close, her father whispered in her ear, quiet enough so the demon wouldn’t hear.
“I love you. Be strong. One day soon, I’ll find you and bring you home.”
For now, she’d let him believe that.
“I love you, Papa.”
She squeezed him tighter, kissing his cheek. Her mouth rested against his face for an extended beat, memorizing how his scruff scratched against her smooth skin and the faded scent of wood smoke clinging to his tunic.
Unease weighed down her limbs as she attempted to pull away. She closed her eyes, sucking in a slow breath before turning to face her captor.
The acrid smell of charred wood carried on a gust of wind, blowing errant pieces of hair into her face. Sticks crunched beneath her boots. Each step between her and her future hardened within her.
“Am I to be your whore then?”
The cold question slipped from her unbidden. She wished to know the exact price of survival. To steel her soul against the inevitable.
His nostrils flared, a flame igniting behind his eyes. A harsh breath whistled through her teeth as he ate up the distance between them.
Rough fingers cradled her jaw, angling her face until they were glaring at each other. Nails bit into her soft skin enough to bruise. She snarled, but refused to wince, holding her ground.
“I do not take what isn’t offered.”
Disdain dripped from the venom laced words, the sentence drawn out as his grip dimpled her skin. Her insinuation offended him. Interesting.
“A noble demon. Your prisoner, then?” she spat.
“Not a prisoner,” he said, his thumb almost reverent as he traced the freckles on her cheeks. “You are a powerful prize. A totem granted by Freyja. Worth more than any trinket hidden in these huts.”
A lump bobbed in her throat. He wasn’t wrong. But the truth stung all the same. She had traded herself away.
Like a war prize.
Elara wasn’t a fool.
She wouldn’t believe whatever false promises he made. An ache grew behind her temple, throbbing with each beat of her heart. She didn’t know if it boded well that he believed her as some gift from a goddess.
At least it meant she’d be relatively safe.
Though the term tasted like ash in her mouth.
“Come,” he said, barking at her like a dog as he snapped his fingers.
A growl crawled up her throat, but she swallowed it down.
As much as she wanted to glance back at her father one last time, she didn’t. Too afraid if she did, she wouldn’t be able to go through with allowing this demon to take her away.
Slowly, she trudged across the field. His eyes stayed trained on hers as he removed a swath of rope from the satchel on his belt.
Without a word, he gestured at her wrists.
Glowering, she clapped them together, extending them. The calluses on his hands brushed over her skin as he threaded the ropes. He tugged, making her stumble before he knotted the end, pulling on the remaining rope like a leash.
A prize he intended to treat as his hound.
“If not a prisoner, then why the bindings?”
“Your spirit is as fiery as your hair. I do not wish to find a blade in my back.”
She hated that a dry chuckle rasped from her in response.
Strong fingers flexed as he coiled the lead around one of his enormous hands while his axe hung firm in the other.
Streaks of sun peeked through thinning clouds as it sank lower toward the horizon.
Ominous silence followed them as he led her down the hill and through the remnants of her village.
Her captor… No. Handler? She didn’t know what to call him.
Dirt stung her dry eyes as she stared into the distance, not looking at anything in particular.
He beckoned another warrior to him, a man with dark eyes and even darker hair. The man’s gaze flicked to hers, a wrinkle furrowing between his brows as his nostrils twitched.
Now more than ever, she wanted the ground to swallow her. The demon with two different colored eyes hissed, his foreign words a guttural command. The other man lowered his voice, deferring to the leader before sprinting from them into the dense sounds emanating from her home.
Or what had been her home.
It wasn’t anymore.
Soon, the distant clash of steel quieted and the hum of shouts melted into the treetops. It made the nausea rolling in her belly ease. She followed a step behind the warrior as he dragged her into the forest, periodically giving the rope a swift tug, making her stumble.
She hissed, but remained silent otherwise.
“Good girl,” he mocked, his deep accent vibrating in his throat.
“I am not a dog!”
“No. My dog is better behaved.”
“If you wanted something obedient, you should have requested jewels.”
He paused, turning to face her, yanking her into his chest. With her hands bound, she couldn’t stop the way she tumbled into the hard planes of muscle. Her fists hammered on his abs, and the demon had the audacity to chuckle.
A knuckle curled under her chin, tilting her head back. Her face twisted into something spiteful.
“Jewels do not make me hard with their sharp tongue.”
“Pig,” she snapped, wishing her hands were free so she could slap him.
One side of his mouth lifted. He grunted, spinning away from her, continuing their trek through the woods.
The lush leaves sparkled with dew, twigs crunching under their feet. The sight would have been pretty if it wasn’t so foreboding.
A low nicker echoed from the bushes, making her gasp. She quickly swallowed the noise, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Leaves rustled as a gorgeous black stallion stepped into the clearing, his coat gleaming.
Two hands bracketed her waist, nearly engulfing the span of her ribs. She thrashed, and he huffed a laugh, lifting her effortlessly onto the creature’s back. The hem of her dress rose dangerously high, exposing most of her pale skin as she rested her bound hands on the horse’s mane.
Grunting, the man mounted the stallion.
Muscled thighs pressed against hers. Hot breath blew against her throat as he slid a palm along her stomach, pulling her into his chest until they were flush. Heat unfurled beneath his touch, searing a trail upwards until it settled behind her sternum.
Feet knocked into the horse’s side, and it broke into a lazy gait, moving her further away from home and closer to whatever grim fate awaited her.
Usually, she found the sounds of birds comforting, but now they grated on her. The little noises threatened to split her barely contained control.
“Is it done?” she asked, needing a distraction.
They had left without seeing much. She worried her bargain had been for not. That another warrior would find her father, and anyone who didn’t run would be slaughtered.
Perhaps trusting a demon hadn’t been the smartest decision.
If she had offered nothing, at least both she and Papa would be with her mother and Edmund again.
“What?” he grumbled, his nails digging into her waist, the motion lingering somewhere between a warning and a promise.
“My village. Do your warriors still attack?”
Based on his adornments and how he spoke to the other man earlier, she assumed he was someone of status.
“I am many things, but a liar is not one of them. My warriors ceased and made their way to our ship for the journey home.”
Ship.
She’d never seen the ocean, let alone been on a boat. A knot of uncertainty settled in her chest.
Fingers brushed her wild mane to one side, and her stomach fluttered at the unexpected touch. Almost worshipful. The hand on her hip slid to her navel, his thumb absently rubbing circles there.
If it weren’t for the ropes binding her wrists, it’d be easy to forget her position and instead imagine they were two stubborn lovers.