Page 37 of Ravenrose

Nash snickers in response and takes up watch by the tent’s entrance.

I look away, refusing to engage with the sociopath as he steps closer.

Fingers dig into my chin, forcing my face forward—forcing my gaze back to him. He smiles, dragging his thumb along the curve of my mouth.

I grind my teeth hard on the gag; the scrap of cloth is all that saves him from losing a digit.

He notices and lets loose a chuckle. “I love it when they’ve got a fight in them.” Desire flashes in his muddy brown eyes while he continues to stare at my mouth.

I twist, wrenching my chin out of his grip with a toss of my head, but he steps closer until he’s pressing into me, catching my hips between his and forcing me back under him. His acrid scent fills my nose, along with the sharp, stringent scent of alcohol. I stop wiggling when he leans in further, his stubby fingers wandering down my trembling side until they find the tear in my skirt.

I freeze.

Heart racing, everything in me recoils at the feel of his hand on my skin. The man’s mouth curves up into a dark grin before his fingers slip beneath the fabric.

Unable to run or scream, I jerk my head away again. The cuffs dig deeper as I strain, and pain explodes in my wrists as I put all my remaining strength into pulling free, desperately searching for any means of escape.

The cold iron holds firm.

The soldier grabs my face again with his free hand, much rougher this time with a bruising grip on my jaw. “Ah, ah, ah, no escaping,” he taunts, his hand dangerously high on my thigh and slowly inching north as he savors my discomfort.

It’s a fight to clear my mind that’s paralyzed in terror at what’s happening—at what’s about to happen—until a fresh fear enters my mind.

The dagger.

If he runs his hand up a few more inches, he’ll find my dagger.

No. No! It’s all I have left.

The thought of him taking it—and more—sends a violent tremor throughout my entire body. I stop fighting him. Reluctantly, I lift my eyes until they meet his, holding his gaze while locking my jaw.

Thinking he’s won, a smug smile appears on the man’s face. His head turns slightly as he calls back over his shoulder to Nash. “There. You see. You just have to show ‘em who’s boss and⁠—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because I give no warning before I ram my knee up hard, throwing every ounce of strength I have into it.

Right between his legs.

“Fuck!” The Kovari soldier stumbles backward, sputtering out a wide variety of curses and other obscenities. “You little fae rat!” His face reddening by the second.

Lifting my chin, I give him a little wink.

He’s still bent over, sucking in air. His face now a violent shade of purple as he fights to recover. Breathing hard, he finally draws himself up, stepping toward me and raising an arm. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

I close my eyes, my jaw tightening, bracing for the hit—or worse—but… it doesn’t come.

“Riggs.”

My eyes snap open at the harsh tone, a new voice, coming from the direction of the tent’s entrance.

A single word. It must be the man’s name.

Riggs’ fist is frozen midair, just inches from my face. He glares at me, giving me one last look, promising death, before letting his fist drop to his side with a disgruntled huff. He looks to the sky, jaw working, before he straightens his shoulders, turning to face the captain standing in the doorway.

“Ayer,” Riggs grits out.

The room suddenly feels colder, shadows deepening as Captain Rusic—Ayer—turns his icy glare on the man, and a tense silence fills the room.

Nash stands sheepishly off to the side, avoiding Rusic’s gaze.