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“You are not my mate,” I spat out, teeth bared. He may be a predator, but I was no prey.
He only laughed, as if my fiery spirit amused him. “You are so cute when you’re angry. Like a little sprite.”
I glared, willing him to catch fire and burn before my very eyes. If my magic were capable of that, that would have been a great time to see it.
“Come, let’s get you some real clothes. I can’t have my mate freezing out here,” he tutted, wrapping his arm over my shoulders and guiding me back to the wagon that confined me like an animal. My mind worked over every detail, searing its every angle into my memory, noting that the boxes lining its insides didn’t quite reach the ceiling and that I might be able to use something stowed in another compartment to aid in my escape. The two soldiers waited at its open doors, smug grins on their faces as their leader held me captive under his massive arm.
“Stop calling me that,” I demanded.
“Then tell me what pet names you like, and I will oblige.” His voice was smoky, raspy, and grating me in all the wrong ways.
“I am not your fucking pet, I am not your fucking anything,and I do not want you to call me your mate!” I shrugged him off me with a scream.
His hand snatched my upper arm, spinning me to face him. His face was deceptively serene with the half moon peeking over his right shoulder. It cast light on half his face, shrouding the other in darkness – a darkness that was only accentuated when he crouched, leveling his iron gray eyes with mine. “I know this is a lot for you right now, so I am going to excuse your behavior. But you will see what I mean soon enough.” He snapped his fingers at the soldiers, who appeared by his side with a pile of clothing.
“I am going to remove your chains so you can change into something more comfortable. We’re going to trust each other here, okay? I know you want to run off, but I am trusting you not to. The three of us will stand here, watching you, an arm’s distance away. You will not get far. If you choose to run regardless of the trust I place in you, then I will have no choice but to punish you. If you choose to be good and change without issue, I will allow you to ride alongside me today instead of in the cage. Whatever you decide, you choose what happens next. Understand?”
My eyes narrowed as I weighed my options.
Run in darkness in a skin-tight dress with my ankles and wrists chained, or run during the day with a horse beneath me?
I knew which option was better.
“I will change in front of you, and only you, and I will not run away,” I sighed, feigning defeat.
His eyes darkened with the promises held in our aloneness. I schooled my face into a neutral expression as his soldiers unlocked the iron from my wrists and ankles. Rubbing my wrists, I eased some of the ache from the weight and friction on my skin. With a jerk of his head, Ruslan dismissed the soldiers, and I stood before him in the dresscreated for me to look like the Goddess, feeling like anything but.
His smile was feral as he assessed my soft curves. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, unwilling to falter under his heavy gaze. He circled me slowly, like he was memorizing every inch of my body covered in glittering gold. My spine tingled with anticipation, and my low belly heated in a traitorous way. When he went out of my view, I held my breath, waiting for his next move. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as he closed in behind me, and if I weren’t already so tense, I would have stiffened.
“Looks like you might need help out of this,” he purred in my ear, his hands finding the back of my dress.
My heartbeat was erratic, and I was certain he could hear its thundering pace with his keen Fae senses. Cold sweat trickled down my spine, and it took all my willpower not to flinch as his rough hands met my back.
How would he react when he saw my scars?
With one mighty pull, he accomplished what I could not and ripped the dress in two, snagging a few of my long chestnut strands that were tangled in my dress and yanking them from my scalp. I gasped, clutching the front of the dress to my chest with both hands as it nearly fell away and left me exposed to the chilly night air – and Ruslan.
“You won’t be needing this dress anyway. Everything will be better where I am taking you.” His hot breath floated over my ear as he whispered his promise, then he brushed past me, his arm barely caressing mine as he stooped to collect a pile of clothes.
It must be too dark for him to see the deep lacerations marring my back, the scars a physical reminder of the torture and abuse I’d suffered at the hands of his kin. They were hard to miss; perhaps he didn’t care – maybe he inflicted some himself.Yet he didn’t smell familiar, and my body did not react to him the way it had reacted to the male I killed when our camp was attacked along the Northern Route to Vaenor.
With one arm, I snatched the fresh clothes from his outstretched hands, desperately trying to hold the remnants of the fabric to my chest. He waited for me to inevitably drop the dress with barely veiled amusement, his fingers splaying over his lips as he watched my struggle. I screamed internally as the shimmering fabric pooled around my feet, but kept my face bland, almost bored, and resisted the urge to cover each part of my body. Throwing the tunic over my head, I tugged at the gray fabric, grateful that my breasts were covered and the hem kissed the tops of my thighs. I yanked on the leggings while simultaneously tossing Ruslan an aloof look, and wrapped the jacket around my upper body, the thick fabric immediately soothing the rib that was irritated whenever I caught a chill. I had no shoes, but my toes were content to wriggle in the grass, the most freedom I could obtain for the moment.
Ruslan growled appreciatively, my new attire not leaving much room for imagination either. The leggings hugged me perfectly, and the jacket was crafted from flexible leather that fastened on one side, the high collar framing my neck. My long chestnut hair tumbled over one shoulder, the soft moonlight casting a shine on its tangled mess.
He closed the distance between us, and I didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe, as he sniffed me. “Much better. Now his scent no longer clings to you.” He spun on his heel, yanking me along by the hand, and I stumbled behind him, my foot catching on a rock. A string of curses left my lips as he kept pulling, dragging me deeper into the wood.
We broke into a clearing where dozens upon dozens of soldiers clad in intricate metal armor gathered around small fires. The smell of roasted meat assaulted my nostrils, my emptystomach rumbling appreciatively at the idea of food. Each soldier held a tin plate piled with thick slices of bloody meat and bread, and as Ruslan stalked to the fire, I couldn’t help my hungry gaze glancing over their plates. He selected a log, and the other males shuffled to adjacent ones without a word. Guiding me to the ground at his feet, he caged me in with his legs, and I had no choice but to settle there like a dog at the feet of its master.
“Bring me food,” he ordered to no one in particular. A male appeared with a plate in hand, and Ruslan handed it to me.
“Eat,” he commanded. His tone brokered no room for argument, but I spun the food around at eye level, searching for signs of tampering or drugs anyway. He scoffed, yanking the plate from my hands. “I’m not trying to drug you again. See?”
He took a bite of the hunk of meat, chewed and swallowed, then handed it back to me. I eyed him warily, waiting a moment before taking a tiny bite off the opposite side. When nothing happened to him, I tore into the bloody meat, juices dripping down my chin and onto the plate, only to be sopped up by the fluffy roll before it disappeared into my mouth. With each bite, my headache abated and my shaky hands stabilized. He sipped from a dented canteen, then passed it along to me. I gulped the cool water greedily, my desert-dry mouth relieved at last.
The smallest hint of sun graced the sky, the pitch black of night fading into the deep blue of early morning. “Let’s move,” Ruslan ordered. The grim-faced soldiers packed up in minutes, stuffing everything into the carriage, which was nestled in the trees near a packed-dirt road that was visible in the quickly rising light. He kept me at his feet until the last male mounted his horse, leaving only a thick black steed with white feathered hooves at the front of the traveling party. Ruslan grasped my arm and dragged me toward the stallion that pawed at the ground,shaking the ground beneath my feet as his hooves struck the earth.
“Where is my mount?” I demanded.
