Someone stepped into the room, carrying with them the scent of sour ale and old sweat. The flickering lightfrom the candle on the bedside table revealed long, stringy hair. The man from the bar.
I suppressed a gag.
This man wanted to revel in my fear? He couldn’t have it. Instead, I’d give him a taste of the abject terror that swamped powerless girls as they faced men like him.
He closed the door, then yanked on the blankets, revealing the pillows I’d hidden. For an instant, his face clouded with confusion, then his gaze landed on me. He licked his lips, and the candlelight revealed excitement in his eyes. He didn’t understand. He thought he held the power, that he was a predator and I was prey. He couldn’t be more wrong.
I stood.
Someone pounded on the door. “Grillo, hurry up! There’s a line.”
Grillo’s lips stretched across his rotting teeth. “Nah, I think I’ll take my time. Take off your clothes, girl.”
“No.”
He grinned as if my refusal pleased him. “I like it when they fight.”
Then he was going to love me. “Do you? Shall we fight?” As satisfying as breaking his nose might be, it wouldn’t induce fear. I pulled the dagger from my boot and admired the blade.
He tilted his head and frowned as if he couldn’t quite work out how I’d produced a weapon, then held out his hand. “I’ll take that.”
“You can try.” I sent a bit of Carron’s power—pain—at him.
He clutched his belly.
I twirled the dagger, admiring the roses on the hilt. “Or I can render you unconscious and then cut off your pathetic cock.” I sent more misery spiraling through his veins. “I prefer that option.”
Grillo bent over and moaned. “What are you doing?”
“You planned on raping me.”
“Not rape. I paid my money. Same as the rest.”
“But you didn’t get my consent.”
His upper lip curled into a sneer. “Don’t need it. You’re nothing but a slit.”
Rage burned through me, faster, brighter, hotter than a fatwood fire. “You might want to watch what you say to me.” I smiled pleasantly as if we were having a friendly conversation over a pint of ale, then I flexed my fingers and made him feel like the flesh was being peeled from his bones. “After all, I can cut off your cock.”
He fell to his knees.
“How many girls have you raped?”
“This is my first time. I swear.” The man was an abysmal liar.
I tsked and added a thousand knives to the peeling. “There’s a penalty for lying.”
“Ten!”
“Ten?” Not for a minute did I believe him. “Are you sure?” I twisted the dagger, allowing the candlelight to glint off the blade.
“Twenty!” He was still lying.
“You don’t deserve a cock.” I turned the dagger so that its sharp blade glinted in the light. “You’ll hardly miss it.”
He clutched his hands to his groin, but not before I saw wetness darken the front of his trousers.
“Please,” he begged. “I’ll do anything. Anything.”
