Chapter 5 #2
Tying me to the rusted hook, he tugged on it to make sure I couldn’t break free and leaned into my ear.
“Don’t even bother trying to get away.” His threat vibrated in his throat.
“There is nowhere you can go before I will find you, kanin.” I flinched at his mocking pet name.
“And if you make me hunt you—I told you there are worse things than death.”
Glaring at him, I didn’t bother answering, knowing even if I was able to free myself, I wouldn’t get far with my arms pinned behind me. I had to be smart. Pick my time to escape.
With a smirk, he started to turn for the exit, making a point to lean over and grab the axe and matches as he went out the door.
“Kuk!” I spat at him as he closed the door. I made myself a promise. I would have his neck under my blade soon.
By the time he returned, I was swaying on my feet, the rope not allowing me to move in any direction.
My heart jolted at the sound of the door.
The momentary hope that it was a stranger, someone coming to use the cabin, able to help me, died quickly when he stepped in.
The instinctual fear of the Northerner stole my breath.
His arm muscles rippled as he carried in a pile of firewood, two enormous mountain trout, and some winter berries in one arm, the knife still ready to defend himself in the other.
His gaze darted over to me, making sure I was where he left me. His shoulders lowered, his long legs needing only two steps before he was at the fireplace, setting everything down.
I watched him through my squinted eyes as he moved around the room, building a fire, preparing the fish, his silence finally overtaken by the crackling of fire.
A full day had passed as his hostage, but it wasn’t until now, caged within four walls, that another type of fear set in.
“Northerners have no conscience or empathy, Wren,” my father told me one night. “They rape, pillage, and murder along our borders, stealing our people as slaves. Imagine what they would do to the White Raven.”
The smell of frying fish wafted through the room, provoking my stomach, rolling it between nausea and starving.
He stabbed the tail of the trout, flipping it over, the skin sizzling in the pan.
Flames flickered off his profile as he cooked, his jaw locked.
He stared at the fish, but I could tell he was highly aware of me watching him.
Alert of every molecule in this room. His muscles were coiled, ready to react.
Yanking the pan off the fire, he plated the fish, flaking off pieces of it along with the winter berries.
He made a show of stabbing his food with his sharp knife, wolfing down huge chunks, letting the juices trickle down his jaw.
My nose wrinkled in disgust. Smirking, he licked the blade clean, his malicious gaze locked on me.
My teeth ground together, enjoying the fantasy of slitting his throat, watching him choke on his own blood, fear pervading his eyes.
As if he could sense my thoughts, he rose up from his place by the fire, his head reaching the low ceiling, carrying his plate toward me.
I flinched as he prowled closer, his savage energy extending far past the space he took up.
His entire presence screamed violence and danger.
I was trained to fight, but I understood that at my size I had no chance against him physically.
If he wanted to kill or assault me, there was not much I could do.
The only power I had was to never let him see me break. To hold my head up with unflinching strength.
He stopped in front of me, his narrowed gaze peering down at me like I was an insect. He reached up, his fingers skimming my cheek before brutally yanking down the gag in my mouth.
“Eat.” He shoved the plate in my face.
I ignored the relief in my jaw, the aching in my bones, and locked my teeth together.
“I said eat.” A growl hummed in his throat.
“What do you expect me to do?” I kept my tone even, though it cut with my fury. “My hands are tied, should I eat like an animal?”
“Probably suit you better, kanin.” He sneered, shoving the plate close to my mouth.
Glowering, I didn’t respond, lifting my chin higher.
“I’ve heard your stomach growling since the waterfall.” He continued to push the dish in my face. The aroma of the fried fish curled in my nose, my empty stomach rumbling in protest, needing to be filled. “Eat.”
I only stared back, pretending his dark bottomless eyes didn’t disturb me.
After the battle, not only did the realms divide, but our tribes turned on each other.
King Stallard tried to rule in fairness and civility, while King Helvig wanted nothing more than to dominate and control.
Turning once allies into enemies. The Night Ravens—especially the king’s personal guards, the Night Hunters—became ruthless and bloodthirsty.
“Eat.” He stepped closer, snarling. I turned my head to the side. “Or I will force it down your throat.” He picked up some fish. “I’ve seen you take smaller things down your throat, kanin. I think you can handle this.”
Hot shame and embarrassment flooded my cheeks. Hating that the two Northerners had watched an intimate moment between me and Brynden, and even worse the humiliation of knowing it was as bad as it appeared.
“Fuck you.”
His lip pulled up in disgust, leaning in until his face was barely a breath from mine. “Not even if you begged.”
Sucking in at his nearness, I tried not to react, his breath fluttering over my face.
“Now swallow down.” He prodded at my lips with the fish.
I spat at him, my saliva dripping down his face.
Anger flared in his eyes, his hand reaching up, wiping it away. He stared at me silently, my heart leaping in my throat with every second that passed. He could snap my neck at any time.
Slanting his head, he tipped the plate, the food falling to the floor, smacking wetly on the wood slats. “Eventually, you will clean that up.” He nodded at the mess on the floor, turning from me. “And it better be immaculate.”
The odor of cold fish wafted into my nostrils as I sagged in fatigue from the hook. He had long ago replaced the gag in my mouth, but left the food on the floor, letting me stew in the smell.
My mind endlessly looped over my friend’s death, the girl who had been raised alongside me as a sister. My heart could not find solace, not able to comprehend the loss, the truth of what happened.
And it was my fault.
Daylight slipped through the cracks around the two shuttered windows, slowly dimming as it moved through the trees, my body telling me it was deep in our night, exhaustion bearing my weight down on the hook.
The Northerner had put out the fire hours ago, permitting a brutal chill to snake into the room. He disappeared outside for a long time, my instincts telling me he was examining the area around us, making sure no one was coming upon us from any direction.