Chapter 24
I’ve never been taken in such a way, nor have I ever felt so satiated. Unbinding my hands removes the visage that I didn’t want or need him in such a way, the man reaching up to unbuckle me before lifting himself off to stand.
Once I sit up, he unties the rope before it unravels into my lap. Without another word, he nears the mess of clothes on the floor until he finds his pants.
Observing him dress makes him look, well, like a man rather than an otherworldly creation of Skull's Row. Soren surely has his own wants, desires, hates, and some kind of fear.
I have to tap into that, somehow...
The mood of the room is bound by a curious silence, as if he hadn’t fucked me so hard that I’m worried about an uncomfortable horse ride. Nearing my pile of dirty, shredded clothes, he hands a cloth towel at me, and I clean myself. I start redressing, unable to hold onto a single thought.
Is this really my life? Did I enjoy that more than I should have? After catching him searing his unique perception into my skin more than once, I finally say, "I know you're reading me when you stare at me like that."
He chuckles as he laces his boots. "Get used to it. I can’t turn it off. Since you’re as hard to pry information from as a greedy thief, I have to resort to reading you."
He stands, grabbing the rope on the table, nodding toward my hands. "Now stick out your hands. Since I still don't trust you not to run, you're going to be tethered to me, and your wrists will remain bound. But once we're inside Skull's Row, if I tell you to jump three times and give me a twirl, you better do it.”
“You don’t want me twirling.”
“That’s not for you to decide.” He motions to my wrists.
I can't honestly say why I am going along with this as I stick my hands out. Did me fighting him get the two of us entangled in something Melona left out in her prophecy? Or does Cypress’s apathy to Melona’s vision give me the permission I need to pursue Soren?
Perhaps I don’t actually know how to make these decisions anymore. There's so much uncertainty and unknown; I dread making the wrong choice.
“What is the fear for?” he asks, his tone patient and also tired.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore,” I mumble as I watch him.
“Neither do I.” When the last bit is taught, he steps away, taking his bag of coin and attaching it to his belt loop with a snap of his wrists, as if to assert that's where it belongs.
“Where are my earrings?”
His shoulders rise with a sigh before he opens up the leather pouch to show me they’re in there, wrapped in goat skin. My muscles stiffen as I want to snatch them, but he’s already closing the pouch before I can. “You’ll get these after the Council.”
I huff, although I still don’t fight him. What’s the point when I’m basically being forced to trust him? If Cypress isn’t lying, then I can return.
Trusting someone is very hard for me to do, the act of doing so dredging up horrible sensations of abandonment.
He nears the door to open it, glancing back down at me. The setting is intimate in its own way, the animosity removed in a false sense of security. My heart flips, making me blurt out, “I like the stubble.”
"Want to know what it feels like between your thighs, love?"
My lips purse as I hold a smile down, walking through the open door. "Stop that.”
"Yes, wouldn't want us to do or say anything inappropriate to each other."
I'm too tired to hold back my laugh, the juxtaposition confusing me the most. If it weren't for the rope around my wrists, we might look as if we had known each other for a very long time. Glancing over my shoulder, I glimpse an erasure of murder in his eyes, the mercenary stiffening once my gaze is on him. Spinning around, I refuse to even acknowledge how that struck at something deep and needy within me, as if it’s a vision into what it might be like to have him as an ally.
I shiver from the cold morning when we leave the drab inn, assuming we’re still in Bensen’s Bay. A woman shouting for her sale of oysters makes it almost seem casual, until everyone spots Soren—no doubt eyeing the mask at his hip—and focuses their attention on us.
My body trembles from the cooler air, having lost my warmer clothes in a bag while I was trying to escape. Soren seems to have predicted this, reaching into a bag bound on his horse’s saddle and pulls out a dark wool cloak that he wraps around me. I ignore the gratitude I have, the two of us not speaking a word.
Discipline, Jane. Control yourself.
Soren and I stand next to Phantom who is so tall I can't mount it by myself. For a moment, the mercenary and I just stare at each other, the horse swatting flies with its tail and stomping a foot. Soren nods to the saddle, but I don't move.
It's not in me to go this easily, not when I don’t think I’m ready to face the Council. I’ve been so busy trying to run away that I didn’t prepare myself for actually going there.
"Jane..."
"Soren..."
"Put your hands on the horn, and I'll lift you."
He raises a brow before sighing, understanding I'm being a stubborn mule again. He grabs my waist and hoists me up without warning; I grab the horn of the saddle for stability, throwing my leg over it, not wanting to fall off this damn thing. He mounts Phantom from behind me, his large body acting like a wall to lean against. There doesn't seem to be much point in preventing my ass from rubbing against his crotch—might as well be comfortable.
He lets me adjust however I need, both his arms on either side of me with his hands on the reins.
I don't bother to say anything about riding together as we trot off, my hands still bound as we pass by those living in this port town. Meanwhile, he rides as if none of this bothers him. I begin to wonder if I’m the first person to distract him this much, or if he’s just this good—
He leans in, rasping into my ear, "Yes, you are."
I sigh, looking up at the heavy clouds as we leave civilization behind us. "I just love having a conversation while not talking."
Our bodies move to the rhythm of his horse. "You're going to realize how much time was wasted worrying that I'm going to feed you to the sharks. I wasn’t going to, even before Cypress.”
“You don’t even know why the Council wants me. How can you predict if you can keep me alive or not?”
“Because I am among them. I bet it’s their damn pride that they’re angry over.”
“And if that’s not the case?”
“We’ll figure it out, then.”
I eye the red rope on my wrists. “Also, why am I bound when it’s just us? What am I going to do, jump off and run into the woods?” I ask, scanning the surrounding forests now that the bay is behind us.
“Given our most recent encounter, it’s for your own good."
"Or yours, so I can't subdue you."
His laugh is laced with incredulity.
I smile, but only for a moment, as I try to imagine sitting like this for over a day as we ride back. "Why did you come alone?"
"You said it was business, but it's personal."
"How?"
He's unabashed as he says, "The last thing I remember before the fucking lights went out, was you feeling regret. You're lost right now, and those words you whispered snagged my curiosity. So, it's personal."
My spine shivers with a new kind of revelry. What the hells have I gotten myself into? I'm all wrapped up in his darkness and I just want to burrow further into it.
"Why did your mother prefer rubies?” He asks.
I can't tell if he's curious, or simply wants to gain more intel. It’s only when I actually consider the question that a profound sadness returns to me. “I never asked her, actually.”
He's quiet for a long moment before asking, "How did she die?”
“Someone came to murder her. It caught us by surprise, especially when he stabbed her in the heart.” I hardly blink as my expression deadpans with recalling the details. “I’ll never forget his ugly face and that gap between his teeth. I grabbed a dagger and jumped on his back, stabbing him in the neck.” My voice quiets. “When we fell, I took it out and stabbed him in the heart, over and over until Mom said my name. I went to her—” my voice hitches “—and I tried to heal her. But some wounds are tricky. Impossible, even. I bet… I bet if I was older, though, I could have figured it out.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Being stabbed in the heart has never been something many heal from, if at all,” he says, his voice the gentlest yet. “I’m sorry to hear you lost her to such brutality.”
Fuck this asshole. He thinks he's so smooth… but gods help me, because for a very long, profound moment, I find myself eagerly desiring nothing more than for this to turn into something completely unexpected. Especially as I wipe my eyes, the strength of his body behind me almost comforting.
And the fact that I know he can feel that, and doesn't say a word, tempts me all the more.
* * *
The ride is long and full of silence ever since that conversation, and yet when we arrive back at Dryhill in the very early morning, it feels like no time has passed. I even found myself slipping into slumber somewhere along the journey, waking up at one point with Soren's arm around my waist to prevent me from falling.
I didn't thank him for that.
That's not within my capabilities. Not yet. Not right now. I don't fully trust the man... not until I witness his behavior with the Council. He will only receive my gratitude once he's proven he can keep his promises.
His men are waiting by the northern stables, probably seeing us arrive from a turret's watch. The front gates are open, welcoming back their leader whose chest I’ve been using as my resting board. It's that perfect time of morning when everything feels calm.
I have to admit I'm impressed to see how effortlessly everyone falls into line for Soren, a reminder that at least it wasn’t a random fisherman that managed to track me down—I was up against the impossible.
He snickers and leans into my ear again, breaking the long silence. "Impressed by me, princess?"
"You and your nicknames," I chide, covering a yawn, my back starting to ache.
"They're called pet names, love," he corrects, humor laced in his stupidly alluring, masculine voice.
I'm about to retort, but my body stiffens when I see Kathleen on a horse at the open gate, Bones standing right by her. "Kathleen is coming?" I ask, my heart racing with worry.
"No idea. I've been a little busy chasing you down." His subsequent sigh is laced with a weighted annoyance. "Do you think your friend can even handle Skull's Row?"
“Kathleen can take care of herself. The bigger question is will toad-face take care of her, or use her?"
He laughs, nearly all of his mercenaries giving their full attention when they hear humor come from their commander. "Toad face?"
"He looked like a toad before I healed him,” I say, glaring at Bones from a distance.
"I suppose that's warranted. And I can't promise anything, as I don't know her, or her intentions with Bones," he replies, and I purse my lips when that's a fair point.
"I don't want Kathleen to get hurt," I insist. I figure there’s no point in hiding our friendship from him—he’s probably already deeply aware of the affection I have for her.
"I'm not about to have strangers travel among my company beyond what we owe the villagers. My men don’t keep long-term pets that we take with us." He dismisses my worries as he follows his statement with, "So what nickname would you give me , then?"
It’s hard to flirt with him when I’m worried for my friend, although I see opportunity in letting my desires get the best of me—any bit of negotiation room I can manage is crucial. Kathleen is relying on me.
A wicked smile comes to my face when I try to imagine something to slash at his ego... but the smile fades when I can't think of a clever one; the only things coming to mind revolve around praising him: handsome tempter, annoyingly sexy... or there's the more offensive captor, asshole, tyrant...
But something tells me he'll only laugh at those.
Maybe... what if... yes . Maybe I should say something that will make his head spin in ways he doesn't anticipate. See if I really do have his attention.
"I'd simply call you handsome ," I say, straightening my back.
He moves in the saddle as if to get a better look at the back of my head, gripping the reins tighter, his voice the most playful yet. "Are you openly flirting with me, Jane?"
It takes everything I have not to grin like an idiot, aware of how everyone is watching us from a distance. "And that's all you get, Soren."
It's so tempting to look over my shoulder to see his face—to witness the sway I may have over him—but instead, I worry my lip to the point that it almost bleeds, trying to stifle a grin that threatens to form. Especially when instead of replying, he lets out this low grumble, like he takes it as a challenge he's very eager to accept.
I need to jump into the cold ocean after this—hopefully that'll shock Soren right out of my system.
Or punch someone.
Oh , how I miss hitting people. It was so simple, back then...
He dismounts Phantom once we’re at the gates, helping me down as all eyes are glued to me in anticipation. One of his men approaches as if to lead me away like a prisoner, while Anya fishes out pieces of Soren’s armor from a pouch on Phantom.
Soren eyes the man nearing me and sharply reprimands, "Only I handle Jane. No one else."
The admonishing eyes of the mercenary leader make everyone step away from me, even if they were already a few feet away.
Soren looks back down at his bracers and works the buckles as Anya dutifully brings over his chest piece, the woman not once looking at me while she removes his leather jacket. Bones gets the rest of his men in line, Kathleen eagerly watching on. When we make eye contact, I give her a reaffirming nod, then raise my brows, inclining toward her as if to ask if she's okay.
A firm, stiff bend of her neck gives me affirmation, then she smiles before looking away. Well, at least she's all right.
I also catch Kathleen's cue—we shouldn't look at each other right now, or else it might highlight our friendship in front of the others. Of course . I need to get my head on straight.
I uselessly stand next to Phantom, watching as Soren gives commands of where we're going, completely avoiding delivering any remarks about the events of my recapture, despite the eagerness in everyone's eyes. So, that's how it will be, then? He and I will share our little secret with each other that rather than coming to hurt me, he chose to fuck me?
My heart tangles within itself, unable to make heads or tails of my predicament.
Once he gets his blades affixed, he nears a riderless brown horse and brings it over to me, tying it to Phantom.
He lowers his head to look down at me, and I realize I've been staring hopefully at this man the whole time, like I'm eager for any sign of him really helping me. Him not saying a word about my capture is a good start.
As he runs a hand on the soft fur of the horse, he quietly says, "It's your choice now, Jane, on how you act. If you want your freedom, then your fate is yours to write. Either listen to me when we arrive or don't. Your decision.”
Clenching my jaw, I brace myself as he reaches for my hips, hoisting me onto the horse and leaving no room for reply. Once I find my balance and have my feet in the stirrups, Soren mounts Phantom, completely leaving it all to me.
Well, I didn't quite expect that.
Is that his tactic? Do things I don't expect so as to get my guard down? I yawn again, looking down at the reins in my dirty, bound hands, kicking my horse when Phantom leads us back through the gates as my ass already aches.
The Zenith’s company rides straight northeast toward Skull's Row.
Well, with Melona’s prophecy apparently null and void, and after meeting with Cypress, I suppose I have to grit and bear what comes next; hope that I truly am free.
Whether I like it or not, I’m finally going home.