Instead, something wrapped around the chain binding my wrists together.
“Up,” he ordered.
“Even without your magic, you just love issuing commands,” I commented. “Can I get a please?”
“Absolutely fucking not,” he snarled.
I pressed my lips together to smother a triumphant grin. My taunts were thorns under his skin, and I savored the glimmer of power they offered me.
“Wow, three words this time, that must be a record for you,”I jeered. Still, I obeyed, and only because I noted the rope now attached to the bronze shackles.
At least now he wouldn’t be touching me, wouldn’t be igniting treasonous sparks beneath my skin.
Even if it left me as little more than a cow he was leading to slaughter.
I kept my head down anyway as we wound through the forest. My muscles ached, none more so than my neck. But the risk of raising my gaze was too great.
Eventually, night fell, and with it, we paused our trek. A group of trees hugging a small pool offered a semblance of shelter. After my desperate flight through the mountains, dirt clung to me like a second skin. Crumpled leaves stuck in my tangled hair.
I cringed at the filth. I wanted a bath. Desperately. Almost shamelessly. But that would mean undressing and diving into that pool—if the Issaraeth would deign to allow it. There would be a price, of that I was certain. When it came to owing him something, though, I’d rather roll in the mud.
Finding another tree to support me, I once again curled in on myself.
A fire crackled to life some distance away, bringing with it a bite of heat that nipped at my fingers. The altitude, even in the late summer, made nights chilly.
A shiver wracked my frame, but I refused to move from my position. Metal banged against metal from whatever the Issaraeth was busying himself with.
Minutes later, the delicious scent of something roasting twisted through my nostrils like a cruel temptation. My stomach rumbled as savory spices thickened the air around us.
How dare he feast while I starve.
The idea that he would choke on whatever he cooked spread through me, too tempting for the rational, Elessarumside of me to ignore. How I wished the Goddess would allow it to come to pass.
I gritted my teeth, nails digging into my legs from how hard I gripped myself. I would not give him the satisfaction of asking to be fed. Or to have a blanket to ward off the cold. I would take nothing from this male who was in the process of taking everything from me.
Purposeful steps approached, and I stiffened, breath catching in my throat. Because threaded through the gamey smell was an unmistakable stormwood that ghosted over my skin and heated it in an entirely unwanted way.
“Time to eat,” the Issaraeth said, nudging me with the toe of his boot. The velvet of his voice rolled a shiver down my spine.
“Not hungry,” I replied, hoping my stomach wouldn’t betray me.
He crouched, and I flinched away. “You have to consume something other than water. That jerky was not enough.”
I didn’t fool myself thinking he actually cared about my health.
He pushed something against my leg, but I made no move to take it.
A low, frustrated sound slipped out of him. “I know you’re not stupid, Sylaira. Ignore me all you want, but it is my responsibility to deliver you to the Korona alive and well. So if you refuse to take this food, I’ll have no choice but to use my magic to hold you down while I feed you.”
“How romantic. Does that usually work on the females you hunt?”
A dark, sinister laugh raised the hairs on the back of my neck. “If I were trying to fuck you, you would know.”
Traitorous heat flickered in my belly. “I’d neverlet you touch me like that,” I snarled, fingers tightening into fists like I was squashing the embers of desire.
Why did monsters have to be so pretty?
“Oh, but you would, once you had a taste,” he crooned, moving closer and bringing the scent of real food with him. “Your pacifist lovers were probably far too gentle, especially with a female like you. Real power, my power…well, I knowexactlywhat to do with it.”
