Chapter Six
Avelina
What was more horrific? Being patronized by the giant snake man holding her hostage? Or waking up in his bed with him coiled around her, and it being the best fucking sleep she’d ever had?
Curled up in a ball around a pillow, her back curved against his firm tail.
He was a cooling balm against her burning flesh.
He didn’t use a blanket, didn’t take up her pillow, simply wrapped around where she’d gotten comfortable.
Avelina sat up in bed, rubbing the crusty sleep from her eyes.
There he lays. With the audacity of a man unafraid she might stab him in the kidneys, he snoozed, arms folded under his head.
A heavy scowl etched itself on her lips as she took a moment to study her captor.
Tan skin that melted into yellow and brown scales, he wasn’t buff, but she wouldn’t call him weak with his thick biceps and forearms. His face was the most offensive, because he was objectively pretty.
Sculpted with those serpent-esque brows and cheekbones, the gods didn’t make him gaunt.
Instead, his sharp angles made him a painting, like he had been made with a loving artist’s touch.
She hated how his long hair fell around him as a silky curtain.
Fuck him. There was no reason a bastard like him ought to be both scary and nice to look at, simply heresy.
Well, Father certainly would call him a heretic.
She crept up to her feet, having to step over him.
His tail was too thick to move otherwise.
It took all the muscles in her legs and core to keep from toppling off the mattress onto the floor where she spent a full hour last night.
Like a dramatic princess locked in a tower, after he didn’t open the door or come for her, she cried herself dizzy against the edge of his bed.
It was only after she couldn’t stand sitting there anymore, and her aching bones begged for relief, that she crawled into bed.
The whole time she imagined him coming in to stab her.
Time’s up, Darlin’. Time to die!
That never happened, and she was reasonably infuriated that it didn’t.
Because this means he’s in this for the long con.
All the signs pointed to one end: he did want her to work for him.
But why give me a bed? If she was just a tool, why did she wake up curled up in his tail?
Was there more he expected of her? She grimaced to herself at the idea that she would be both his walking death mage but also his cock pocket?
Now you’ve gone and done it. Avelina shivered hard, trying to ignore the prickled flesh all over her back.
She’d gone and put that image in her head.
Gotta get it out. That active imagination of hers raced with images of him throwing her on a table in front of a faceless army of outlaws, naked and squirming while he took her from behind.
Stop! Stop it and get out of here! Her mind was her own worst enemy.
Humiliation filled her features as she tiptoed over the lightly creaking wood.
Get out. Get out now. Leave! She didn’t realize the creaking wasn’t of her making until a tail curled around her ribs.
A squawk ripped out of her as she was whisked away from the door.
Avelina faced Cottonmouth, struggling and kicking in the air. He sat up on his bed, smirking so broadly it showed his fangs. “Now, little viper, where do you think yer goin’?”
“To the bathroom!” she spat, putting her hands to his scales in hopes of freeing herself. She pushed with a grunt to no avail.
“Poor thing, wouldn’t want to burst that bladder, huh?” Yet he didn’t put her down, instead, holding her at eye level. She stopped kicking and let out a heavy exhale from her nose. He chuckled, “Now, now, none of that.”
“You’re the one who trapped me in here all night long!
” Avelina hated that she fell asleep. Loathed that it’d been comfy and for the first time in days she slept through the whole night.
One would think she’d toss and turn, rife with nightmares.
Or that she wouldn’t be able to close her eyes without her skin crawling, but the second her head hit the pillow, she went out like a light.
When she awoke, she was well-rested and even refreshed, her muscles warm.
“I knew ye’d likely try something silly, like running away.
I needed ya thinkin’ with a clear head. We got work to do,” he cooed as he slowly lowered her, dropping himself onto the floor as well.
Cottonmouth slithered toward the door and pulled it open.
With a sweeping motion, he encouraged her to walk out first. Avelina pulled the shirt down further, ensuring it basically hit her knees as she shuffled past him.
To her relief, the cabin was empty. She scanned the place lit in honey-orange sunlight.
No longer the patter of rain or rumble of storm clouds bouncing over the roof.
It was muggy and warm, but it was a welcome change from last night.
She studied the whole room, spotting extras that branched off the main one, but only one was open.
A hand pressed into the small of her back and led her across the living space. “Bathroom, darlin?”
“Right,” she muttered, ducking her head.
“I know yer smarter than that, darlin,” he chuckled. “Ain’t nothin’ out there but endless swamp. And even if ya make it out, yer a wanted wretch like me, remember? Workin’ for me’s the smart choice. Ya know this.”
She hated that he was right. Stopped in front of the doorway, she repeated to herself how much she loathed him.
That stupid, knowing smirk, that purr of a voice, the threat of his violence and yet allure, all of it was reprehensible.
Pivoting on her heel, she glared up at him. “You don’t know a thing about me.”
Cottonmouth arched a brow; arms crossed over his uncovered chest. Leaning against the doorframe, he caged her back into the other half of the frame. “I know everythin’ there is to know about you.”
“Prove it!” She snapped, fists rattling by her side.
Fury filled her veins with a violent buzzing, a thousand wasps stinging up her insides.
What am I doing? She was embarrassing herself and for what?
What point would she prove? Other than Cottonmouth could or couldn’t read her like a book after only knowing her for a few hours?
Avelina wasn’t the furious sort. Usually, she was the kind, soft voice.
The sting of having abandoned Tala back in Eshorion, unable to even tell her best friend everything was fine?
It made the culmination of fearing the cruel man in front of her worse.
Because it made her acknowledge something she’d always known but never said out loud about herself.
Coward. Without Tala, she was a cowering, crybaby.
Show him! “Tell me five things about myself, if you know everything about me.”
“Is that a challenge I hear?” he teased, lips curling up higher on his cocky face. His tail rattled a little behind him. “We don’t issue challenges without a prize here, Darlin. Ya willin’ to put somethin’ on that?”
“I’d love to, but I currently don’t have any coin,” she sneered. Avelina patted herself as if to accentuate the fact she had nothing on her person but her skin and bad attitude.
“Aye, and only a fool bets his own coin. How about that pretty rock of yers, huh? I wager I can state five true facts about you, and if I can’t, I’ll give it back to ya.”
Her face paled, eyes widening. Tala. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to be some complex, femme fatale in a noir detective novel where she left the protagonist guessing till the very last second.
Avelina cursed herself for being so easy to read, because the way his shoulders jostled, it was clear he knew what she really cared about.
He could have offered her a free ride out of there, could have offered her a clean slate, anything…
and the carrot he dangled in front of her face was Tala.
Damnit. She gritted her teeth. “And what do you want if you win?”
Cottonmouth tapped a finger against his chin. Thump, thump, thump, a faux ponder etched into his features. Then he lunged forward and she gasped, jolting in her skin as he planted a hand against the wood over her head. It groaned under his weight as he loomed terribly close to her face. “A kiss.”
Avelina deflated with a scoff. “Really?”
“Really. I want a real smooch. And yer not allowed to bite me for it either,” he huffed, eyeing her sharply. Inch by inch, he retreated, studying her face. She opened her mouth before he cut her off quickly again. “On the lips, darlin.”
She huffed, throwing her arms out to the side. “Fine!”
A kiss? That’s it? Did he think she was allergic to lips? Or was this more manipulation? Was this the entry way to the—nope! No, not thinking about cocks or pockets or Cottonmouth as anything other than a rotten bastard.
“Excellent. Fact number one. Yer daddy’s a Paladin. I’d even wager to say, he’s an important one. Like the Knight Commander?”
Her heart sank into her belly, and she sank an inch against the frame, her knees threatening to give.
No. No, shit, no. Lip quivering, she tried to form words, but her mind was on the newspapers in Parandor.
Her face splashed over all of them. Murderer!
Patricide! She whimpered, “How did you know that?”