Chapter fifty-four Fallyn #2
At the first sign of my disdain for him, Rylon tightened the chain on my neck.
My hands tried to go to the chain, but they were tied to my side.
I was practically being hanged by the whim of a mad prince.
To whom I was betrothed. My lungs ached, begging for air.
Just as the darkness promised to reclaim me again, he let go, watching as I slumped to the ground, coughing and sputtering.
“Get up, my betrothed,” Rylon crooned over his ornate gold and black armrest. “If you slump, I do it again. You’re about to be a princess after all, and posture on a princess is important.
” His hand tightened on the chain to punctuate his threat, just in time for me to sit up.
My body trembled as it struggled already to hold this position in my weakened state.
The fur beneath my knees was my only kindness, but even the unforgiving earth beneath made my body ache.
My breaths came shallow as the panic I’d barely staved off found me again.
And just like my body, my mind also had nowhere to go.
All I could do was hope that Rowena and Dess got away.
But every time my eyes closed, I saw my two living best friends being hunted.
I saw them die a thousand different ways.
I searched the tent for signs of their demise, but none were visible.
Surely if they’d been found, Rylon would have taunted me with them by now?
“You kneel so prettily for me Fallyn.” Rylon purred, his tone like a lash of sickening sweetness, akin to sugar covering the taste of poison. “We have chosen well.”
We?
“I kneel because chains force me, not because you have my allegiance. I don’t kneel to tyrant aristocracy.
” I sneered. If my throat wasn’t so dry, I’d spit at his feet.
“You have a throne built upon those you see as less than. People like my mother, whose only crime was questioning your precious new god. That’s not ruling.
That’s wrath, and isn’t wrath one of your so-called seven sins?
You’re not worthy of the crown or the people you're supposed to rule.”
Rylon didn’t get angry in the way I anticipated. His eyes narrowed, but the slow smile that spread over his lips was much more fear inducing than his wrath.
“Those are big words, pet. I’ll make sure you regret each one, and that regret is coming sooner than I’m sure you’d like.
The Morningstar’s retribution will take your soul into the depths of Hell for eternity,” He paused, eyes raking me with a dark hunger that made me freeze, “but mine will wreck your body.”
His eyes perused leisurely down me even as I glared at him, even as terror froze me to the very soul.
I had no doubt from the look in his pale, mirthless eyes that he meant what he said and he would destroy me in every way a person could be destroyed and the scraps that remained then fed to his god.
“Such a dour fate for one so pretty,” he whispered, dragging a finger down my cheek to my chin.
“Such a waste. If you beg and make it good, I promise to show clemency.” His hand switched from the chain to a gentle swipe of my chin, a gesture I have no doubt he sees as affectionate.
“Yes, this will be perfect. Now,” his hand stilled on my face as he tipped it up to look at him directly, my lips raised in warning, “beg.”
“Rylan,” I said sweetly, fluttering my eyelashes, “get fucked.”
“Oh, I plan on it pet. I plan on making you scream and beg even if you won’t now. But I promise, the only one who will enjoy it is me. Unless…” he trailed off, deviously waiting for me to take the bait. But I won’t. I knew what he’d say. He wants me to beg him. He wants me to fear him.
I do fear him, but I’d rather die than show it. His fingers went to his fly, undoing it and to my horror, springing himself free before me.
My hands moistened while my mouth went dry.
I didn’t even want to open my mouth for fear of him using it against me so instead I pursed my lips and turned my head away, leaning as far back on my heels as I could.
Hands appeared, tightly gripping my hair and forcing my face back towards him, his unimpressive cock only inches away from me.
I gagged, and he took his chance, forcing himself to my lips, where I only just closed my mouth in time.
“You’ll swallow what I give you to swallow, pet. And if you try to bite, just know I’ll make every nightmare you’ve ever had come to life and last until your dying breath. And I’ll make it last weeks, pet. So do us both a favor, and open those pretty lips for me.”
His fingers slipped in my lips, pinching my cheek until he pried a shriek from me. I closed my eyes, willing this to be over, when another, bloodier scream sounded not far away.
All movement stopped. Not even the wind to announce itself.
The commotion started small. A rustle in the quiet here, a thump in the distance there. But the unsettled look on Rylon’s face I glimpsed made that hope grow. Ash was coming.
“We resume later, pet. And next time I won't be denied.” He squirreled his cock back in his pants and resumed his seat on his throne, eyeing every immediate noise before settling on me with disdain. “Quit smiling, betrothed. You would think the death of your friends becomes you.” I didn’t even care when he yanked the chain tight around my throat, choking out my reply.
Because if you won, if you killed my friends, why do you look so afraid, Rylon?
If my voice wasn't able to show it, my face did.
My chest cried for air, but it cried for Ash more.
To tell him how sorry I was. That I was foolish to have run.
That I knew I’d always be safe with him. I remembered all the lingering glances, the softness with which he took away my nightmares. He was my villain. He was my sanctuary.
Ash would make sure I was safe.
The screams started then. Low and guttural, then high pitched, cut off mid shriek. A choked laugh tumbled from my dry, flaked lips. “He’s coming. And when he does, I’ll dance on your fucking grave.”
Rylon didn’t dignify me with a response other than yanking my throat with the chain, but no matter how staved of oxygen he had me, he couldn’t kill the hope in my chest. It was no surprise to anyone when a bloodstained Ash stalked in at last with the door to the tent billowing behind him.
Shadows filled the air around him like drops of blood in water, choking the firelight to a dim ember that highlighted the blood of Rylon's guards. Bloodstained wasn’t the right phrase.
Ash was drenched in the blood of those who abducted me.
Red dripped from him hands, his arms, he was swathed in it, a monster of his own right, making some dark, deep, feral part of me, a part I long kept locked away, purr with approval.
Ash looked like you could throw him into an inferno and he'd walk out like ice—cool and in control.
There's a glory in his god-like fury, in the way he looked like he could dole out death and vengeance without a second thought.
He was dangerous. Even the shape of his silence would leave even the most steadfast soldier disquieted.
“It’s a lot of white here,” Ash seethed the moment his eyes landed on me. “Your Highness. It will be such a shame to ruin it with your blood.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be happening.” Rylon’s smile made me pause. He aired a confidence that wasn’t there previously. It was in his smirk. The careful positioning of himself behind me. The unhinged laugh he let out. “Guards!”
Twelve massive men in black scale armor were summoned from somewhere behind me. I tried to turn my head, but the chain wrenched me back with a wince. I didn’t miss the ways Ash’s eyes darkened, nor the growl from deep in his throat.
“Fallyn,” Ash crooned as the men surrounded him two rows deep with swords, axes, and spears alike.
Ash disappeared from my view amidst so many bodies, though his words continued to reach me.
“You’ll be safe soon. I swear it." He growled up at Rylon, sitting ramrod straight on his throne, "I warned you what hunting her would cost, and now your veins will pay the penance.”
“Yes, your little message was quaint. A lovely touch." Rylon sneered. "You want this curse-touched wench so badly? Come and claim her!” Rylon called in a mad attempt to call Ash on.
There was a guttural yell, a spray of blood that reached even me, and then madness.