Page 124 of Ravenrose

Ayer.

He gave me to Riggs?

The thought twists painfully through my chest, but I shove it away almost as quickly as it comes. No. He may want me gone, and he may despise what I am, but he wouldn’t hand me over.

Would he?

I try not to flinch at the feel of Riggs’ grubby little fingers tracing along my tapered ears. I can’t help but flinch when he brushes the sensitive tips. My mask of submission shatters, fury taking over as I shove his hand away with a glare.

“There she is,” Riggs gloats, grinning down at me, pleased with my reaction. “We’re going to have fun tonight, you and I.”

Unable to stand the feel of his hands on me anymore, I slip out from under him, racing for the cell door he left open behind him.

Riggs catches me almost immediately, his hand clamping down on my arm and twisting. I cry out at the sharp burst of pain, right before he violently wrenches me back.

My head slams into the stone wall. For a moment, my vision blurs. I let out a groan, pain exploding throughout my head.

It costs me valuable time.

By the time I’m able to see through the pain, Riggs is already on top of me. His hands are—everywhere. His fingers hook into my side, yanking me closer with a filthy, possessive grip. His palm skates over my breast, and nausea takes over. He has me pinned against the wall, holding me up with his knee. I squirm, trying my best to push him off, but he leans in heavily, pinning me down.

I’m still swimming in pain, and my limbs feel slow and heavy, resisting the effort it takes to fight him, and darkness edges my vision.

Focus, Rowan.

I bite down on my lip, hard enough to taste blood. The slicing pain sharpens my thoughts and pushes back the dark cloud threatening to envelop my mind. My head clears just in time to see Riggs pull a knife from his belt.

The cold steel of his blade ghosts the skin of my upper thigh as it slices through the fabric of my dress, exposing me.

I force myself to lie still. If I fight now, he’ll only enjoy it more.

Riggs’ rough hands trail indecently high up my leg, exploring his newfound access before raising the knife higher. He makes quick work of cutting through the bodice of my dress; leaving me in only my corset and white underskirts.

His lips twist with sick satisfaction as he looks down upon my heaving chest before he presses the sharp steel against my cheek, trapping my face between the wall and his knife.

He taps his blade against my cheek, letting it bite me. Warm blood trickles down my cheek. “If you scream,” he leans further in so that he’s whispering into my ear, “I’ll fuck you with it.” I don’t say anything, and he slides his knife further down my cheek until the sharp steel brushes against my lips. “Nod if you understand.”

My eyes flick to his. His smile is too wide, and I feel something hard pressing into my gut. I remain completely still. My head doesn’t move. And since the edge of his blade rests just over my mouth, I don’t dare open it.

Riggs’ dark eyes flash with anger at my continued silence, and he repeats himself, his knife pressing harder when I still refuse to nod—refuse to agree.

I let out a pathetic little whimper as his blade breaks my skin again, cutting my lip this time. My gaze darts from his face to the knife, fear shining in my eyes.

The corporal’s frown curls into a triumphant smile, and he lifts the knife from my cheek.

“Good gir⁠—”

As soon as his blade is off my skin, I’m moving. Reaching, not for the knife, but for his wrist. My fingers curl around it, wrenching with all the strength I have left while Riggs howls in both surprise and pain, dropping the knife.

Releasing his wrist, I drop out from under him, my other hand shooting out to catch the knife midair. I spin, my foot sweeping out, connecting with the back of his knee.

He yelps in surprise, but Riggs is a big man, and though he falters, he doesn’t go down. Instead, he stumbles a few steps before recovering. His face turns a crimson shade of red as he draws himself back up.

My eyes flicker to the exit, and he tracks my gaze, sidestepping quickly so that he’s blocking my path. “You’re going to regret that, little fae.” Riggs lunges, and I slash at him with my stolen blade. He jerks back just in time—not realizing I had caught it—and I just miss his throat.

Taking advantage of his momentary confusion, I kick—hard. My foot slams into his chest, and he staggers back with a grunt, but not before retaliating with his fist. I avoid the blow to the face, but he catches the back of my hand. The knife slips from my grip, skittering across the floor.

Stars.