“No!” I press my hands into the mossy rock, trying to push up, but Asbjörn is impossibly strong. With a single hand, he has me right where he wants me. When I start kicking, he simply steps between my legs and widens his stance, forcing my legs open.
He spits again, and then something is prodding at my narrow opening. A butt plug.
“What are you doing?” I try again to no avail.
Asbjörn keeps prodding, and the sensation sends fire into my nerves, awakening the sensitive area, muddying the fear, muddying my thoughts.
“Stop,” I repeat, but the plea is weak now.
“Shh, you’ll be right where you belong at the end of the night.” He gives the plug a long, steady push, and finally, it pops into place. He has trained me too well, and my mind scrambles to find out what other things he will take advantage of tonight.
“Where is that? Please, Asbjörn. I need to know. I can’t take this anymore. Please. Just… please tell me.”
While I expel my litany of panicked pleas, he grabs me by the upper arms, straightens me, and turns me to face him. The moment I see him, I start hyperventilating, and tears break from my eyes.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I whimper as I stare into a painted face. Black, white, and red paint distort his familiar features, rendering him unrecognizable in the darkness. I reach for his face, wanting to smear the paint away, but he grabs my wrist.
Pushing my arms back, he cages me in against the steep mountainside. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Miss me? What do you mean? What’s going to happen to me?”
“You’ll find your real place tonight, sweet Freja.” He releases one of my hands to stroke my cheek. “Sweet Elina.” He flattens his hand against my cheek in an achingly tender moment. Time stops as he leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips.
My free hand drops to the side, and I lean my head back. I want more—everything he’s done to me over the last six months we’ve been together. The dominance, the pain, and the fear.
“Remember what I said. Don’t let the fear control you.” His voice deepens with the importance of his next message. “Embraceit.”
I nod, a small flicker of determination returning. But when he releases me and leans back, eyes wide and terrifying, the fear becomes too sharp.
“Run,” he growls, and when I don’t move, he hardens his voice to a command that seems to reverberate with an anger I can’t decipher. “Run!”
I whip around and scramble up on the rock and further up the hill. When I reach a plateau, I glance back to see him one more time, a terrifying sense of finality churning in my stomach, but he’s gone. There’s only the night and the trees. That’s when I hear it. A heartbeat penetrating the night. A drum. It starts as a single beat, then more drums join in. And then there’s a light in the distance at the top of the hill. I cling to a root sticking out of the steep hillside, watching breathlessly as the light grows. A fire. And it’s all coming from the direction I’m headed.
I freeze in place, just staring and listening, thinking it must all be a vision. Delirium has set in.
I glance behind me, once again wanting to go down. But then I see shadows moving in the night. There are three of them, moving like apparitions between the trees. Shrieking, I scramble to go further up, struggling as the terrain grows increasingly unforgiving.
The drums get louder, calling for me, and I keep going, straight into the trap, as the shadows behind me move in.
“Stop!” I scream. But nothing stops. The drums keep going, an eerie soundtrack to the nightmare I’m stuck in.
22
Elina
Finally, I reach the top of the hill. And there’s the fire—in a wide clearing.
The drums intensify, doubling in sound, and voices join in too, whispering and chanting, marking my arrival.
At least thirty people are gathered in a half circle around the fire, all facing me. Only one man stands out. The forest king with the antlers. He’s standing beneath the branches of an ancient tree that reaches high into the sky, so enormous it would take several people to span its girth. Huge, heavy branches spread out over one side of the clearing, creating a sheltered pocket. The tree is mesmerizing, and so is the man beneath it, standing tall and proud, mighty and magnificent—a long braid hanging down a naked chest, a huge fur over his shoulders, clusters of armbands, black jeans, and bare feet. Sparse tattoos of runes and ancient symbols.
This time, so close, there’s no mistaking who it is, and my heart beats even faster, yet calmer.
He lifts a hand toward me and waves his fingers. Despite the terror still thrumming in my veins, nearly choking the air from my lungs, something compels me to approach—to fall into the dust and surrender to him. But then I see the ropes hanging from the tree and the whip in his hand.
Shaking my head, I sidestep further down the trail, away from the crowd and the king awaiting me. But suddenly, hands grab me from both sides. Someone has snuck up on me while I fell captive to the trance they’re trying to lure me into. Or maybe they were there all along, waiting in the shadows, and didn’t even need to sneak. It doesn’t matter. I’m trapped. I try to writhe free as they lead me forward.
“No,” I beg. “Let me go.”
