“Fuck,do you think someone heard that?” the one at my arms asked.
“We’re fine,” the man on my hips answered. Even in the dark, I could see that his face was a mottled jigsaw of ugly scars, thin lips, and angry gray eyes. “Scream again or struggle, and I’ll smack your brain out of your head,” he spat, pure menace in the curl of his lips.
My limbs froze.
His smile faltered, and then he jolted forward, bringing his nose to mine. The smell of alcohol and sweat assaulted me. “What the fuck?” he muttered.
“What is it?” his friend asked.
He lurched away, wariness flashing over his features. “What the fuck are you?”
He was afraid. I desperately jumped at the opportunity. For once, these eyes could work in my favor.
Summoning the deepest voice I could muster, I hissed, “You haveno ideathe things I’m going to do to you. I don’t even have to move.”
For a second, he lifted his weight from my hips. I seized the window, sliding a leg free and ramming my foot into his face. A sickening crunch told me I’d hit my target.
“Youbitch!” he raged, blood pouring from between his fingers. “She’s amonster.Awitch.Fucking kill her, Derren!”
I pulled against the man, Derren, who still held my arms to the floor. I rolled my hips up, digging my feet into his chest and pushing with all my strength.
“I…can’t,” he gritted out. Slowly, his grip began to loosen, and I clenched my jaw, grunting with the effort.
Hands grabbed my ankles and slammed them back into the ground. Hips manacled mine to the floor once more, and then I was staring at the sharp edge of a butcher’s knife, held overhead by the man with the broken nose.
It was going to cleave me in half. This had all been a terrible mistake. I never should have tried to leave.
“No!” I yelled, watching as the knife began to fall.
Light poured into the room. Hot liquid sprayed my face.
Panting hard, I stared up at the metal tip protruding from the center of his forehead. His eyes turned vacant.
Not a heartbeat later, the butcher’s knife was gone from his hands, and his body collapsed onto me, his head banging the ground next to mine. There was a dull thud, then a grunt, and my arms were free. I shoved at the body on top of me, unable to fill my lungs. His weight was ripped away.
And I was staring at Harthon’s livid face.
Instinct sent me scrambling back. My back hit a row of baskets as I watched him track me, jaw hard, dark eyes unreadable. Commotion stirred in the background, and my eyes moved to the scene to see North spearing the other two men with a sword. Then they flicked to Derren, who lay on his back, the butcher’s knife embedded in his neck.
The speed required for that…
When I refocused, Harthon was stalking forward. The glow from the open door sliced shadows across the savage lines of his face. Everything locked as my heart slammed against my ribs. I’d just tried to escape despite knowing my importance to him. Not only had he caught me, but four of his men died in the process. Perhaps the butcher’s knife would have been the more merciful option.
For a breath, he loomed over me, and then he lowered into a crouch.
He was still so big.
Those shadowed eyes scanned my features, running over my cheeks, my arms, the blood splattered across my face. Anxiety tightened my chest as I waited for him to do something.
But just like after Koerlyn’s ambush, his hands simply found my face, lightly cupping my cheeks. Then my teeth began to chatter of their own accord, maybe a side effect from the fight, and the fury lining his face softened.
“Easy. You’re okay.” The low, reassuring tone was like a balm to the frantic reflexes controlling my body.
I nodded, but it was jerky. I was so completely not okay. Not at all.
I clenched my eyes shut, letting my head fall forward. My jaw wouldn’t stop shaking.
His hands moved to my hair, fingers lightly stroking. “I’m here. You’re safe,” he murmured, and the words became a mantra. I was safe. I wasn’t home, but with Harthon, I was safe. Why wasn’t heyelling at me? Why wasn’t he punishing me? Unless that was still to come.
