The men ignore him completely, and the hellfire spitting from his eyes tells me he’s not used to being dismissed.
These assholes have done more than strip him bare. Whatever holy water they injured him with has disabled his magic… or at least temporarily suspended it. They made this godlike being vulnerable, clearly uncovering a weakness even he didn’t realize he had.
His growl bounces off the old stonework and the cage rattles when he throws his substantial strength into the glacial bars. The room shakes from his force.
But it’s no use. Without his magic he’s no better than a caged lion.
And I’m on my own.
I don’t let him see the fear in my eyes. Or at least… I try not to let him see it.
But the way he gazes back at me, with fury and passion and so much fucking anger, tells me he’s more observant than I gave him credit for. He’s possessive and protective. I see it clearly now. Somehow Torben seems to be able to look into my soul with a single-minded intensity that makes me squirm.
I think I’ve lived my entire life without ever truly being seen. But Torben? He sees me. Every piece. Even the ones I’d rather hide.
What he does with those pieces, however, is still a mystery. We’re little more than strangers, barely acquaintances. And if the ice giants didn’t make him look like a saint in comparison, I’m pretty sure he’s my enemy more than he’s my savior.
But beggars can’t be choosers, and all that shit. Torben is the safest bet I have to get out of here.
Not that his presence is currently doing me any good.
Fear ripples off me in suffocating waves, and I only get one more glance at the predatory man roaring in his cage as I’m hauled out of the room.
My wrist aches, my body feels bruised and battered as I trip and fall on the rough stone steps that lead out of the dank basement. I’m dragged up and up until I’m shoved before the leader of the giants.
He stands mysteriously tall on a platform, just steps above me. His hand shadows across my face as he holds it over my head.
“You will be tried and found innocent, or you will be tried and found guilty. May your life be cleansed and your soul be counted.” Each word reverberates back to me as it bounces off the hard, shiny marble.
And then I’m pushed to the edge of a large basin of water. A layer of ice lines the surface and I’m shoved closer and closer despite my thrashing arms and legs. I lash out at solid legs and only a single cracking of bone indicates I’ve hurt one of them at all.
My reflection peers up at me from the icy well of water. Blonde hair lines my face in stringy dirty locks. Blood mars my features, looking more like ink against my blue lips. I’m shoved harder. The basin of water is larger than it appeared. It could serve as a tiny swimming pool for humans or a foot bath for the giant beings. With one hard kick, I’m thrown forward, forced over the edge.
A scream threatens to rip from my lungs, but I barely draw a breath before being shoved under the frigid water.
Ice cracks around me, slicing up my exposed flesh at all angles. A large hand covers my head and forces me down, unwilling to let me surface. The water stings at my skin as I descend lower. The last picture rolling through my mind is my own broken image, lost and battered looking.
How has my life come to this?
Somewhere I made a wrong turn, because this can’t be the end I was destined for this whole time.
It just can’t be.
I won’t fucking let it.
My legs kick hard. I near the surface, but long skeletal fingers push to keep me under. Burning sensations explode in my lungs, and I flail helplessly while my wolf snarls and snaps, her fury barely heard above the sound of swishing water in my ears.
Pain strikes through me, my throat begging for a breath. My numb fingers fumble against many hands, but I can’t surface.
I can’t make it.
I am completely and utterly fucked… and not in the panty soaking, toe curling, blissed out, screaming kind of way.
Chapter Thirteen
Ash in the Frosting
Rhys
