Page 83 of Crucible
The first thing I notice is that it’s warmer upstairs. The sounds of the wild are louder, too, but the predators lurking beyond these walls are the least of my worries. I have my hands full with the ones inside.
I tiptoe over to the couch inside the cavernous living room and glare at the closed door of Thorin’s room before making myself at home on the ratty couch.
I can’t believe this is my life right now.
I’m Aurelia George.
I shit gold and wipe my ass with money. I’ve convinced millions of people to worship me with only my voice, marketable face, and carefully curated persona because my real one sucks. It’s like defusing a bomb with a paper clip and your eyes closed.
Total fucking bullshit, but people buy into it.
And yet these Neanderthals have turned me into their whore and made me sleep on the floor.
I get comfortable fast and start to drift, but every creak of the cabin startles me awake, and I start the process all over again.
It’s been a long day, one of the longest in my life, and I still can’t sleep. Somehow, I have to find a way to be up before dawn without an alarm to wake me, so I can make my captors breakfast and see them off when they leave and wait for them to return like a proper pet.
I eventually succumb to my exhaustion and sleep through the night.
The best part is that I don’t dream.
AURELIA
The cabin is quiet without the crackling of wood, so I know it must be morning when I feel my blanket being pulled off me. The fires from the stoves will have gone out by now, so the morning air breezes over my skin, but the cold isn’t the reason for my goose bumps.
Futilely, I keep my eyes closed and my breathing even in the hopes that I won’t be subjected to more of their attention, but I should have known better than to think playing dead would work.
I can’t help but lock up, giving my awareness away the moment I feel the heavy weight of a feral mountain men climbing on top of me. I know who it is the moment I smell his scent—warm and spicy and wild. My eyes fly open against my will, and I can see for myself that it’s morning.
I’ve slept for hours, but it feels like minutes.
Drawing in a deep breath, I part my lips to scream—as if anyone in this house would save me—but the sound doesn’t make it past my throat. He covers my mouth with his hand, but it’s the cold blue eyes of the rejected man staring back at me that terrify me.
“Am I going to have to hold you down?”
I whimper, but Thorin doesn’t care if I’m scared.
“Am I going to have to get rough with you, Aurelia?”
I swallow down the need to ask him the same and shake my head.
He’s not like the other two.
Thorin rarely finds me amusing or cute or any of the condescending things that makes men believe women can’t be dangerous. In a weird twist of irony, I guess one could say Thorin respects me more than the others. He sees me for the threat that I am and keeps me at an arm’s distance.
When he uses his free hand to reach between us and pull on the worn sash of Khalil’s robe—Khalil, whose cum is still dried on my thighs—I keep my promise and don’t fight him.
The moment the robe is loose and the panels part, Thorin lowers his head, and his breath skates over the soft curve of my belly.
“What’s it going to take to convince you that you belong here, wolf? I can take you apart one limb at a time and keep only the parts we need. But that can get messy and won’t be nearly as much fun as option B.”
I gulp and just barely keep the tremble out of my voice when I ask, “Option B?”
Thorin nods but doesn’t elaborate as he kisses my stomach. His attention on this particular part of my body needles at my self-consciousness. It’s all I can do not to snap my robe closed and hide my body from his leering. All he says is, “I like this look on you.”
“What look?”
“Your belly swollen.”
