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By the end of the third night, her eyes drooped from exhaustion. Her fingers holding the shiv were stiff, her hungry body weary from pacing. Eventually, she dropped onto the mattress, worn out, no longer able to stand on her feet.
Then it happened. Just when her eyes closed again, a lock turned, and the door opened.
A pair of army boots came into her view. Before she could make a move, her paltry weapon was yanked from her hand and cast away.
A hand tugged on her hair, forcing her to look up. Ready to spit in Pedro’s face, she braced herself.
From the shadows, Viking emerged. His blond hair was so pale it was nearly white. His face was an icy mask. The words died on her lips as she took in the wall of muscle in front of her. Shock and a sense of deep betrayal hit her gut as she stared into his glacial blue eyes.
“Viking?” Air rushed from her lungs.
His eyes spat venom. Waves of heat and anger wafted off his big frame, enclosing her as if trying to smother her like the corsets she had gotten used to.
His hand went to her throat and circled it, as if he wanted to strangle her. A dark, twisted part of her wanted him to. End her. End them. Maybe then, she could finally find some peace and put an end to the aching pain in her soul. Another part of her rebelled at the thought of giving up. That crazy piece of her that would never go down without a fight, the part of her that was a lion, that part roared.
The second he let go of her, she pushed up to her feet and faced him. He was so much bigger and stronger than she was. He was also the man who had left her in an icy tomb for days, with only a piece of bread and a glass of water. Days during which he had her believe that, any second, she could get gang-raped. Hours of agony, fear…everything collided together right then and there.
She smacked him in the face so hard his head reeled back from the blow. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.
“Don’t you know I hate the cold?” she snapped.
Someone swore, and it was only then Elena noticed Leather Jacket Guy standing behind Viking.
“Think before you do anything,” Leather Jacket Guy warned.
“Get out,” Viking growled. “Now, Baran.”
Elena swallowed, then looked for ways to escape. There were none. She was trapped and about to be taken down by a murderous-looking beast.
Viking caught the drop of blood on his lip with his finger. Then he smirked.
“You’ve drawn first blood. I’ll draw last.”
He grabbed the remaining scraps of her coat and tore it in two. She yelped when he turned her around and pushed her face against the wall.
His breath was hot on her ear when he plastered himself against her and whispered, “You will regret that.”
She realized there was nothing left of the man who once would have burned down the world for her. It reopened wounds in places she had believed had been all scarred up.
“I already do,” she admitted.
He pushed against her, and she could feel his hardness against her ass. She wasn’t sure which one of them was more surprised by it. Judging by his curse, probably him.
Her heart hammered in her throat. She felt chilled to the bone and her heart ached. This wasn’t the man she used to know. They could both be hotheads sometimes. Viking had anger issues and she, well, she was impulsive and did things she later regretted. At least, she had before she’d married Lorenzo. Before he had used her daughter against her and had clipped her wings.
As sick and perverted as it was, going head-to-toe with Viking again made her feel alive for the first time in a long while. He may think he’d held her captive, but knowing it was him holding her instead of Pedro made all the difference in the world. If there was one thing Viking wasn’t capable of, it was hurting her.
He pulled her hair, bending her neck. Then he put his teeth to her collarbone, marking her. Tears sprang into her eyes, but she refused to whimper. Crying had never done her any good. It only made you look weak. And when you looked weak and vulnerable, you were practically inviting people to hurt and screw you over.
She flinched when his teeth grated against bone, but didn't move a muscle. Not that she could, the way he had sandwiched her against the wall.
Then he let her go, his ragged breath filling the room. He stepped away from her, looking at her as if she was filth underneath his boot.
“It’s time for a taste of your own medicine. Get used to your new accommodations, princess,” he snarled. “You’re never leaving it.”
It was a perverted version of a promise he had made years ago.
Get used to us, princess, I’m never leaving you.
