Page 17 of White Raven

He sank us below the water, swimming under the waterfall, submerging us in snowmelt. I gasped for air around the gag. The cascade of the water crashing over my head struck like a thousand knives. It was only a moment before we popped back up on the other side, the roar of the water deafening. With a grunt, he pulled us up on the rocks behind the falls, dropping my body at his feet. Hacking and shivering, I curled up, watching him out of the corner of my eye.

Nearing six-six, his massive form loomed over me, his shoulders heaving, his murderous black eyes narrowed on me. His dirt-stained tunic clung to his muscles, revealing extensive tattoos underneath, the scar on his lip tugging it up in a snarl. Dread fluttered in my stomach, his feral rage clawing at his seams. Nothing about him held sympathy or kindness. He was a killer, just like my father said they were.

“The prints suggest they went across the river.” A voice towed the Northerner’s attention from me, voices echoing from the other side of the waterfall. “And up the embankment there.”

There was a pause.

“Split up.” A baritone boomed through the curtain of water, the voice of my father’s general, Backe. “You lot, follow the tracks. This group, go upriver, and we will go down. They can’t have gotten too far.”

“Help!” I tried to scream out from my gag, crawling forward, my cries drowning in the noise of the falls. But it would only take one to hear something to send them investigating. “Help!”

Sneering, the Northerner seized my wet locks, yanking me back on my ass. I yelped in pain, my eyes watering.

“No! I’m here!” My voice shredded and my head spun as a panic attack crept up my chest. He moved behind me, lowering himself until his lips grazed the back of my ear. “Scream all you want, kanin.” He tracked his free hand up to my throat again. “They won’t hear you.”

The horses splashed past us, the men’s voices growing fainter, taking my last hopes away with them. The realization that no one would rescue me snatched the last reserves of hope. My vision dotted and I leaned over my knees, too weak and muddled to even try to calm myself. I struggled more to regain the oxygen I needed, gasping noisily, and clawing at the rocks.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I heard him snap, but everything felt like I was hearing and feeling through a pane of glass which was being submerged underwater. I felt like I was drowning. Blackness overtook my vision and stole consciousness from me.

CHAPTER 5

Crunch. Thump. Crunch. Thump.

A chill curled me closer to the source of warmth. A longing to dig in deeper, chase away the cold and sink further into my sleep. Except awareness stirred in my brain as a familiar rhythmic motion tapped against my head, dragging me out to the edges, forcing consciousness back on me.

Crunch. Thump. Crunch. Thump.

Queasiness swept through the moment my eyelids cracked open, eagerly waiting for me to wake before it pounced. The sun was sinking toward the western horizon, casting deeper shadows through the dense forest, suggesting evening in the Day Realm was encroaching.

White snow blurred below my throbbing head and bile rose in my throat, a groan humming in my gut. Every inch of me throbbed in pain, aching from the abuse. Agony zapped down the nerves in my pinned arms, the final death throes of blood trying to circulate through them. I ground my molars together to stop from throwing up, not wanting to face the fact—my nightmare was real.

The peace I’d felt while I was insensible—where Sarina was still alive and I wasn’t being kidnapped by some cold-blooded Northerner—shredded into splinters, burrowing in with tormented cuts. Last night’s joyous festivities could have been a dream, if not for the white ceremonial dress I still wore. A reminder that less than a day ago, I was preparing for my wedding.

Hauling me over his shoulder again, he trekked through the snowy terrain like I was a sack of potatoes. I had no memory of him departing from the waterfall, or carrying me across the snowy mountain region, but by the frozen stiffness of my clothes, it must have been many hours ago.

While the wet clothes were rigid along my backside from the cold air, his body heat radiated through my front, beading sweat between my breasts. His hand firmly on my ass wiped the last bits of sleep from my mind. Yet it was his rough steps through the thick snow, bouncing my bladder into his hard shoulder, which brought me sharply into reality.

I had to pee.

Stirring, I tried to wiggle off. “Down.” I garbled through the gag. His grip on me tensed, a grunt in his throat, adjusting me back up. “Put me down, now!”

He understood me just fine but chose to ignore my demands, keeping a steady pace. My temper flared. The idea of this low-bred thrall disregarding me, treating me like an animal, squirmed me more against him.

A low warning growl came with a hard slap to my ass.

I went still, my eyes bulging. Did he just spank me?

“You move an inch, and I’ll do it again.” His voice was so low it barely broke over the crunching of his boots.

I was stunned by the audacity. The humiliation of being treated like this while helplessly hanging over him made fire storm into my veins. Loathing. Rage. The need to hurt him, and see him degraded and shamed like this, before I slit his throat.

I had only one recourse.

It was a beat, two steps, before he stilled, feeling the warmth soak into his tunic.

“Are—are you fucking peeing on me?” His voice tightened. “Faen i helvete!” He dropped me off his shoulder, my ass thumping down into the snow. I peered up at him, a crazed laugh muffled through my gag. Still a little damp from the river, one side of his dirty tunic was freshly sodden with urine. It dripped down to his trousers, sticking the fabric to his skin.

His piercing eyes lifted to mine, his shoulders rolling forward, his chest moving up and down in fury as I laughed again.