Chapter 2 #3
“Yes.” He reaches for my hand again. I tuck them both between my thighs. “You belong here, in the palace. You know you do.”
“What I know ...” The rage filling me dampens the drug’s effects. “What I know is that my father ordered a mage to break into my mind. And when that didn’t work, you stood by and allowed your own men to beat me. The fae I was supposed to kill showed me far more—”
“Enough! Do not finish that sentence.”
I lift my chin, refusing to cower, and let him see what I think of him and the kingdom he protects. “He showed me far more kindness than you and my father have since you forced me to come back here.”
Brennan’s nostrils flare, his fingers biting into the arms of the chair. The tendons in his neck stand out as he battles to contain his anger.
“You dare to compare us to them? They’re nothing but animals. Beasts to be culled and contained. You would choose them over your own people? Over us?”
“There has never been an us. We have never—”
“You were promised to me.” His roar fills the room, spittle flying from his lips. “I have been at your side for fourteen years. I gave you freedom and space and time. And the thanks I get is you opening your legs and letting that … thing rut you like an animal.”
I flinch. “He is not a thing. He is fae.”
A vein pulses in his temple. He shoves to his feet. “To be clear, Alleria. You refuse to tell me anything? You won’t give me names, how many there are, or what they’re planning?”
I shake my head.
“And that creature … the one you let mark you … you won’t tell me what it made you do?”
“He didn’t make me do anything.”
The sound that comes out of Brennan’s mouth is terrifying. He steps toward me. I refuse to shrink back, no matter how much my mind is screaming at me.
“I could have come and had you any night.” His voice has changed.
The patient captain who protected me is gone, and what remains is something I’ve never seen before.
Something ugly. “Do you have any idea how many nights I stood outside your bedchamber once you came of age? I had your father’s permission to consummate my claim as soon as I thought you were ready. ”
My stomach flips.
“But I waited. I thought your twenty-first birthday would be the right time. You would be happy after the hunt. Ready for me. I wanted to be the man you deserved. Patient, and kind, and good for you.” His fingers find my chin, and he forces my head back.
His other hand curves over my jaw, pressing against the bruises.
Pain sparks and my vision swims. “Yet while I was waiting for you to be ready, you were out there fucking animals.”
His hand slips down and closes around my throat.
“I want you to tell me everything you let it do to you. Every fucking detail.” He hauls me to my feet by my neck, fingers biting into the soft skin just below my jaw. “Did it touch you here?” His other hand grabs the front of my dress between my breasts and twists it in his grip.
“Let me go.”
“You are mine.” His face is flushed, eyes flashing.
His mouth crashes onto mine, teeth sinking into my bottom lip until it splits.
I taste blood, and can’t hold back a whimper.
He uses it to force his tongue past my teeth, his fingers still twisting in the front of my dress.
The sound of tearing reaches me moments before the warm air of the room hits my skin.
Then his hand is on my breast, squeezing hard, while his arm wraps around my waist and drags me against him.
I can’t breathe. His tongue is in my mouth, his hand is pulling at my clothes, and I can’t breathe. I try to shove at his chest, but there's no strength in my arms. He ignores my struggles while he works on dragging my shift off my shoulders. The thin fabric rips from collar to waist.
I twist my head to the side. “Brennan, stop!”
“Is this what you gave it?” His mouth presses hard along my jaw, and down my throat. His hand closes over my bare breast, sweeping over my nipple before he pinches it between thumb and finger. I cry out at the sting. “Is this what you let it do?”
I try to twist out of his grip, but my legs won’t support me, and his arm is locked tight around my waist. His hand leaves my breast and drops lower, gathering the skirts of my dress in his fist and bunching it up, baring my legs … my thighs …
His mouth is on my breast now, his teeth biting and lips sucking. His hand is pulling at my undergarments.
I stop fighting, going limp in his grip.
Maybe if I just let him do it, it’ll be over faster.
My attention drifts, taking me away from the moment, wandering around the room over his shoulder. It pauses at the tray on the small table less than an arm’s reach away. The empty bowl. The pot of soup. The uneaten bread. And …
Hesitation will get you killed. Cairn’s voice, full of dry amusement, fills my mind.
The butter knife is in my hand before I register the movement. I bring my arm up in a tight arc, and drive it into Brennan’s eye.
There’s resistance at first, then I shove what little strength I have behind my clenched fist. The surface pops. The blade sinks deep past the socket, and hot, thick fluid bursts out, spilling over my fingers.
Brennan releases me immediately, hands flying to his face.
I stagger backward, my bloody fingers clutching at the shift to cover myself.
I can’t tear my attention away from the man in front of me.
Blood pours from between his fingers, spilling down his wrists as he stumbles around blindly.
He crashes hard into the side table, the impact sending the silver tray clattering violently to the floor in a spray of soup and shattered porcelain.
He drops to his knees amidst the wreckage, both hands still clamped over his face. The sound that comes out of him isn’t a scream, it’s a wet, bubbling howl of agony. And the horrific noise causes the door to burst open.
Two guards run in, weapons ready. They freeze, their eyes jumping from him to me, taking in my torn dress, my exposed skin, and the blood coating my hands. As one, their horrified gazes snap back to Brennan, bleeding and writhing on his knees.
One of them grabs me, twisting the knife out of my grip. The other steps toward their captain. Brennan snarls, slapping his hands away when the guard tries to see what damage I’ve caused.
“She stabbed me.” His voice is hoarse. “She fucking stabbed me in the eye. Bring her to me.”
The guard holding me drags me across the room. Brennan hauls himself upright. Blood still drips down his face, soaking into his shirt. When he looks at me, terror closes my throat.
“Get out.” The flat order is directed at the guards. “Both of you.”
“But, Captain—” The one holding onto me starts dragging me toward the door.
“Leave her.”
“Sir?”
“Get the fuck out!”
The guard drops me to the floor, and they both walk out. Brennan is across the room before the door closes on them.
The first blow sends me crashing into the wall behind me. My head bounces off the stone, and the world whites out. When I hit the floor, his booted foot buries itself in my ribs. A scream rips out of me, a sickening crack filling the room.
He kicks me again. Somehow, I manage to shield my head with my arms, and curl my body into as small a ball as I can. His boots find my arms, my hips, my back. And with each kick, he speaks through gritted teeth.
“Fourteen years. Fourteen. Fucking. Years.”
I can taste blood. I’m choking on it as it fills my mouth faster than I can spit. The floor beneath my head is wet. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. All I can do is cling to the barrier inside my head because it’s the only thing that makes sense.
He grabs me by the hair, drags me to my feet, and backhands me across the face. Once. Twice. Then he shoves me so hard I hit the armchair, and go over it.
He’s on me as soon as I hit the floor, his hands around my throat. This time he squeezes.
“You fucking ruined everything.” His face is inches from mine. Blood drips from his eye onto my skin, my lips, into my mouth. “Everything I planned. Everything I waited for. You stupid, worthless, ungrateful fucking fae-loving whore!”