Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
HAVEN
The horse trotted, and each clop of its hooves on the hard-packed lane sent a jolt of pain through the two remaining wounds on my back—the two poisoned lashes from Carron.
I shifted in the uncomfortable saddle.
“You’re slowing us down,” said Pierce, who rode beside me.
Apparently, my being unconscious had delayed their departure. We’d left a day late and were taking a shortcut through woods, both deep and dark, to make up time. No one was happy about it.
“You’re a terrible rider.”
Hardly surprising. I’d never been on a horse before, and as far as I could tell, riding well was a skill that took lots of practice. “This is my first time in a saddle.”
Pierce grunted. “Sink your weight into your heels and squeeze with your thighs.” He eyed me critically. “Relax.”
I tried to do what he suggested, but squeezing and relaxing seemed like opposite actions.
“Not like that,” he groused. “You look like a sack of potatoes. Sink your heels.”
I sank my heels.
“Now squeeze with your thighs.”
I did that too.
“Relax your shoulders. They’re up by your ears.”
I forced my shoulders to lower.
“Straighten your spine.”
I tried, but the wounds on my back pulled and itched and ached. “I’m trying.”
Pierce regarded me with his cold eyes. “Not terrible.” Faint praise.
Ahead of us, Grayson twisted in his saddle. He glowered at us, then barked, “Pierce, with me.”
Pierce’s lips thinned as if he’d prefer to stay at my side and criticize my nonexistent riding skills.
His horse moved restlessly beneath him, as though sensing his reluctance.
“Remember, heels down,” he said, his voice rougher than usual.
Clearly, my incompetence frustrated him.
After several awkward seconds, he spurred his horse to a canter and joined Grayson.
Left alone, I gazed at the trees that pushed against the edge of the narrow lane.
I was accustomed to tight streets, seedy buildings, and air befouled by factory smoke and the stench of too many people living too close together.
This forest, with its pure air and trees reaching upward, made me nervous.
The trees’ trunks felt like bars, locking me into a fate I didn’t choose.
Ahead of me, Pierce turned in his saddle. When my horse’s hoof caught a root, which sent pain shooting across my back, he wheeled his mount.
“Pierce!” Grayson’s voice was loud in the quiet forest.
“Sorry.” With a frown, he turned his horse forward, likely calculating how much time we’d lose if I actually fell.
“You’re gawking.” Flynn had snuck up on me and taken Pierce’s spot beside me.
Was I? Ignoring the sudden flush staining my cheeks, I dragged my gaze away from Pierce’s rigid back.
“It’s like you’ve never seen a tree before.”
“There aren’t many trees in Grimswood.” Those that survived were small and stunted and stubborn—tough as nails. By the name—Grimswood—presumably larger, healthier trees had flourished there at some point.
“You have seen a tree?”
“Not like these.” Towering. Menacing. Eerie. “Not so many at the same time.”
“Well, Princess, look your fill.”
Princess? He meant to insult me, as if I were a pampered girl who expected men to spoil me.
I was a woman who’d lived her whole life in Grimswood.
I’d worked hard for everything. I’d tried to protect girls who were too afraid to defend themselves.
I’d tried to make a difference. I was no princess.
I opened my mouth to correct him, then decided a man who called me “princess” wasn’t worth the effort.
Instead, I tilted my head and admired the leafy branches spreading above me, the way the sunlight dappled through the vibrant leaves, and the birds that swooped from tree to tree.
We rode in silence for long minutes, and I began to enjoy my surroundings.
“It won’t work,” Flynn groused.
I glanced at him. “What won’t work?”
He nodded toward the men who rode ahead of us. “Pierce is a coldhearted bastard. Fucking him won’t get you anything.”
I should keep my mouth shut. Flynn was clearly trying to bait me, and engaging would only make my situation worse. But when he mentioned fucking Pierce, like it was some kind of strategy, my temper flared. “I don’t want to fuck Pierce.”
Pierce glanced over his shoulder with a fearsome scowl on his handsome face. He’d heard me. I gritted my teeth and wished the narrow track would open up and swallow me.
Disappointingly, it didn’t.
“Now, me?” Flynn waved his hand from the top of his head to his groin, allowing me time to admire his gorgeous face and well-muscled chest. It was hard not to admire his looks—he really was gorgeous. Too bad all that beauty was only skin deep. “I take care of girls who take care of me.”
They were assholes. They simply couldn’t help it. I tightened my grip on the reins, and the horse tossed its head.
Flynn chuckled softly, as if he knew he was getting to me. And he was.
But not in the way he hoped. I’d never sell my body for an extra blanket or a meal. Not that I blamed the women who did, but trading sexual favors for survival wasn’t a choice I’d make. “If I see a girl who looks hungry, I’ll let her know you’ll feed her in exchange for a quick fuck.”
He grinned. “Princess, you’ve got it all wrong. It’s not a transaction. The women I’m with enjoy themselves.”
I remained silent, concentrating on sinking my weight into my heels.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I’m sure their enjoyment has nothing to do with the fact that saying otherwise might mean going hungry. I bet they tell you that you’re the best they’ve ever had.” Every word I spoke was a risk I couldn’t afford. I was injured, exhausted, and entirely at their mercy in the middle of nowhere.
His eyes narrowed, and he scowled at me. “You make it sound like I’m taking advantage of them.”
I’d made him angry, and I couldn’t find it in myself to care. “Aren’t you?”
“No, Princess. It’s a mutually beneficial exchange.”
“When one person has all the power, and the other has none, it’s exploitation—” A particularly hard clop of my horse’s hooves sent a spike of agony through my back, cutting off my words. I gritted my teeth, waiting for the wave to pass before continuing. “—not an exchange.”
“I could just take what I want.”
“Where I’m from, they call that rape.”
“Princess, you’re making me sound like I’m the bad guy. I’m not.”
“Of course not. You’re just a man who uses his position of power to trade food for sex from hungry women. Practically a saint, really.”
“You’re wrong!” Flynn was loud enough that my horse startled, and Pierce and Grayson looked over their shoulders, Grayson with a quizzical lift to his brows. “A woman who’s with me gets a good meal and a night of pleasure. There’s no harm in that.”
“Hmph.” I resumed staring at the treetops.
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“Not even a little. You want transactional sex? Fine. But don’t make yourself out to be a hero. If a girl is hungry, you should give her a meal, not trade on her desperation.”
“That’s not what I do!”
“You participate in a system designed to grind women beneath your heels.” My voice cracked slightly.
The combination of pain, poor sleep, and the effort of staying mounted was taking its toll.
I cleared my throat and continued with less force than I’d intended, “A woman shouldn’t have to fuck you to eat. ”
“It’s not like that. They want to be with me.”
“If you say so.” My tone was airy. Dismissive.
Flynn’s teeth ground together loud enough for me to hear.
“Everyone looks out for themselves. If you believe differently, you’re naive.”
The wise thing would be to smile and deflect.
Change the subject. Ask about the trees or the weather—anything but challenge his worldview.
But watching him rationalize exploitation as kindness made bile rise in my throat.
“Am I? My grandmother has spent her life helping people without expecting anything in return.”
“And what did it get her? A rundown building in Grimswood.”
“The love and respect of those whose lives she’s touched.” My horse stumbled slightly, and I had to grip the saddle horn to keep from sliding off.
Only Flynn’s quick reaction—a steadying hand on my elbow—kept me from tumbling to the ground. “Careful, Princess.”
“Thank you,” I muttered, conveniently ignoring the unwelcome tingle on my skin from Flynn’s steadying touch.
“Don’t mention it. Tell me, does love or respect put food on your grandmother’s table?”
Magic put food on the table. “What about you and your friends?”
“My brothers,” he corrected. “What about us?”
“You have each other’s backs.”
“Obviously.”
“If Grayson were injured and couldn’t watch yours, would you stop watching his?”
He scoffed. “Of course not.”
“But you wouldn’t get anything in return.”
He looked at me as if I were speaking gibberish, then his lips pursed. “I do not grind women beneath my heels.”
“You watched me being whipped. What is that if not grinding a woman beneath your heel?”
Flynn’s expression darkened. “You think we enjoyed watching that? You think any of us slept that night?” His voice dropped. “But defying Carron would have gotten you killed faster. At least this way, you survived.”
“Barely.”
“Alive is alive, Princess.”
“You left me in the pit for days.”
“What would you have us do? Defy Carron?” He scowled at me. “You’re a pretty girl, but you’re not worth my career.” He kicked his horse’s flank and galloped ahead, joining Grayson and Pierce.
“Making friends?” Teal pulled his horse next to mine.
“Not here,” I bit out.
He frowned at me before he, too, rode ahead.