Chapter 3 #3
My eyes traced the strands to the face that was just as intimidating as the rest of him.
Dark eyebrows stood against golden, tanned skin, matching eyes so dark they were nearly black.
Sharp, wide cheekbones pointed to smooth, ordinary lips, but the chiseled features didn’t make him pretty.
His strong nose was slightly crooked, probably from being broken, and thick stubble roughened any smooth edges.
It was an overwhelmingly masculine face, one that suggested he was slightly older than me but still in his prime.
It was a face that’d seen battle. A face that many saw just before death.
I finished my perusal and met his gaze. Something like wonder filled them as he studied my eyes.
My fall must have killed any sense I had left because anger snapped, and I blurted, “It’s rude to stare, you know.”
Slowly, he raised an eyebrow.
Taunting a beast was the pinnacle of stupidity. Yet part of me was too tired, too worn down, to care.
But the corner of his lips just curled. “I could say the same. My arms were growing tired of your stare.” The assured bass aligned with the rest of him.
Heat crawled up my neck. Skin protested as my spine straightened.
“The scars draw attention. If you don’t want people to stare, cover them,” I all but hissed.
It was mean. I wasn’t sorry. All of this, everything from the past week, was absolute horseshit.
I couldn’t fight him with my body, but I could throw daggers with my words.
His grin widened, revealing straight, clean teeth. “Based on the intrigue I saw, you’d be rather disappointed if I covered these arms.”
“What you saw was disgust.”
“You have a rather interesting way of showing disgust.”
He was playing with me.
In an instant, the fire in me exploded. “Will you just kill me? Just do it already.” His smile dropped, but I wasn’t finished.
The itch in my chest was unbearable. “For the love of this awful, forsaken land, do not waste my time with cute conversation before slicing through my neck. Just get the damn thing over with so I can finally stop wondering what my life has become.” I panted as the outburst echoed through the quiet.
The muscles of his jaw jumped, but he didn’t reach for a weapon—only watched me with grim resolve.
Shame replaced the anger. Begging him to kill me? I was better than that.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
There was no point in lying. “Etarla.”
“If I were here to kill you, Etarla, you would have never opened your eyes,” he said as he shifted to his feet and stood. He towered over me, all thick thighs and coiled muscle. “You know why I’m here.”
“These are not my eyes.” The words were a plea.
“You do know how that sounds to someone who is looking at them, in your face, as we speak, right?”
I shook my head slowly, willing him to understand. “My eyes are brown. Whatever they are now…they’re hers. Not mine. They’ll fade, and you’ll see this is a mistake. Whoever sent you will punish you.”
Without a word, he bent toward me, his hands finding the space beneath my arms. They could crush my ribs right now.
It probably wouldn’t take much effort. But the grip was only firm as he brought me to my feet with disturbing ease.
His hands remained as I wobbled, deep bruises creating weak spots in my legs.
A slight tightening of those fingers was my only warning. There was a dizzying rush of movement, and then I was staring at naked trees. My bound hands and back were flush against something solid and warm, and a thick, muscled arm banded across my chest.
My mind hadn’t even caught up when cold glass touched my lips.
“Drink,” he ordered.
That definitely wasn’t happening.
I ground my teeth together and flailed with all I had. That arm was an iron vise, holding me tight to his body with little effort.
But my feet were free.
I stomped as hard as I could on his boots, earning a string of cusses. For a second, the glass disappeared, and I raised my foot again to—
Fingers pinched my nose shut. The glass found my mouth again.
I struggled harder, refusing to open my lips, even as oxygen ran low.
“You’re only hurting yourself,” he said, annoyance tinging the words as my legs kicked high, throwing all my weight back. He didn’t budge, nor did he sound remotely winded.
Then all my air was gone, and the need to breathe overcame my will to fight.
My jaw dropped, and air and liquid found my throat at the same time. The hand that still closed my nose sealed my mouth shut. I sputtered as things went down my throat the wrong way, a sickly sweet taste coating my tongue as my eyes watered.
Then the hand left my face, and hacking coughs jerked me forward against his arm. I spit and gasped as he held me, stickiness dripping down my chin.
“You. Bastard.” I heaved the words out.
“You’re right, but you could have simply drank,” was his calm response.
I whipped my head around—
Except I couldn’t. My head was too heavy to whip anywhere.
“That’s a…terrible…answer.” Numbness encased my tongue.
His annoying hand cupped my chin, gently tugging until my head was resting on his chest. Whiskers tickled the side of my head. “The effects of the draught are quick. It’s not worth fighting it. You won’t be harmed.”
As if I would trust that. Tingles ate my feet and traveled up my legs. “Would…you…belieeeve yyyou?”
I turned limp as my eyelids became lead. That big body shifted, and then I was weightless and encased in heat.
I didn’t get to hear his response.