Page 14

Chapter thirteen

Sifa

Do You Like What You See?

T he sun is starting to peek over the horizon when I wake up, bringing a dim light to one side of the tent. Fhord’s still here, his breaths slow and steady. I’ve come to love the scent that always hovers around him, a mix of coriander and cloves. I think I liked his smell before I liked him.

But I do like him now. Most of the time. I roll over to see him facing me in his sleep. Not back-to-back like the first night. He’s not so resolved to push me away. And I’m not as eager to get away. The repulsion I felt when we first met is gone. Now, our connection is more positive. It feels right.

Not that I can let myself get close to him. I know better than that. We can’t be lovers, but we could be friends. We don’t have to have sex. Even if I can’t think of anything I want more.

Almost as much as he seems to want me. I almost laugh out loud as I remember just how much he wants me. He’s spent most of our trip either fighting an erection or giving in and taking care of it himself. He’s worse than any adolescent elf I’ve ever known. How could I not tease him? I think he enjoys it as much as I do.

Fhord shifts, his hand lifting from under the blanket to run through his hair, ink mixing with the dark strands. It’s thick and silky and full of life. I’m dying to run my hands through it—one more thing I’ll never have.

And then his eyes open. I watch as he seems to fight a smile before giving in. His face is brighter than the sun.

“Are you watching me, little rabbit?”

“You wish,” I assure him with an exaggerated yawn. “I’m looking generally in your direction. You just happen to be in the way. Nothing particularly interesting over there.”

“Do you like what you see?” The smile has reached his eyes, which crinkle with a laugh he hasn’t released yet.

“I don’t dare answer that, and risk building up your already oversized ego.”

“So, yes, you do like what you see?” Now he laughs, a chortle that makes the tent lighter, more joyful. “Drink your fill,” he adds after a moment, glancing down at his bulging blanket. “I’m not going anywhere yet.”

“Good. Because we need to talk about what happened yesterday.”

He groans. I’m guessing his mind is elsewhere. “You heard Erik,” he says at last. “We’re not to share his words with each other. Ever.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I watch him for a moment, unsure how to ask without revealing things about me he can’t know. “Why did you want him to tell me about his death?”

“Did he give you information that will help you?” Fhord’s serious now, his eyes bright and clear.

“He did. But how did you know I would want that information?”

“I feel our connection too,” he responds in a quiet tone, as if he’s afraid to give voice to his words. “I can sense your emotions, as you can sense mine. When I let you,” he adds with a wink. “We both have secrets, things we can never tell each other. But I know you search for something.” Fhord sits up, holding my gaze. “The battle I mentioned was waged on the eve of the Downfall.”

“When elves became prisoners in this land?”

“Yes. I don’t know what, but something happened in that battle, or at the same time, that changed everything. I believe, or maybe just hope, that Erik holds the key to you finding what you seek.”

I watch him for a long time, thinking about what he’s said. His gaze never strays from me. “Why are we connected, Fhord?” I ask at last.

“That is a question for another day. Or maybe never. We’ll have to see.”

I narrow my eyes, pushing down the frustration that rises within me at his answer. He knows and it’s annoying as fuck that he won’t give me a simple answer. “Why can’t you tell me what draws us together?”

“Because we both know we can’t be together. No matter what. Even if a demanding part of me might want it,” he adds with a glance down at his still engorged groin. “It’ll be easier for both of us if we don’t go down that path.”

I don’t follow his gaze because Fhord’s morning hard-on is the last thing I need to think about right now. “I’ll find out, you know,” I declare. “Probably soon. This thing between us, whatever it is, is going to demand more than either of us can give.”

“That’s why we have to fight it. For both of our sakes. For everyone and everything we care about.”

I watch him another moment. But it’s time to go. “I’m going to clean up,” I tell him as I dig out some clothes. I need to clear my head. Cold water will help. I hope.

We have far to go today and both overslept, so we don’t dally. Fhord apparently relieved himself quickly; he’s up and breaking down the tent when I get back. I pull together a quick breakfast, and we’re on the road within a half hour. It’s a long day, and we’re both exhausted by the time we decide to stop. After another fast meal, we’re asleep just after the sun sets.

I’m alone when I wake up but not surprised. It’s light outside, probably an hour or so after sunrise. I can’t hear anything—Fhord must be foraging or hunting—but I know we’ll have another busy day. Throwing on some clothes, I toss open the tent door.

I see him first. A gag in his mouth, his arms and legs bound together behind his back, Fhord’s lying on the ground with fire sparking from his eyes. Four males sit nearby, their smiles nearly as wide as the legs stretched out in front of them. My gaze is drawn to the male Fhord attacked at the Inn, his grin intentional as he displays the missing teeth that surely drove the bastards to track us down.

I’m positive the fear shows on my face when I see them. I can feel the hair rise on the back of my neck and up and down my arms. My stomach clenches as my heart skips a beat, and then another. But fear is the last thing these males need to see. So I do my best to shift my expression as I think through my options.

I can’t use my magic. Fhord had a reason for taking me to Konungr Erik and asking about the Downfall. If he already suspects I’m an elf, I can’t risk exposing myself to someone who might be close enough to the Dróttning to have some of her power, and recognize mine. These males don’t sit or move like warriors, so I’d probably have a decent chance of taking them down, but I don’t have a sword or even a knife in my hand. That’s the last time I wander around without my weapons.

I don’t have much choice. I’ll need to earn their trust before I can do anything. Suddenly, I’m grateful Fhord was such an ass to me in that Inn.

“Oh, thank the gods,” I announce as I let my shoulders relax and force out a long, relieved sigh as I gesture at Fhord. “I didn’t think I’d ever get away from him.” I smile, becoming the rescued seductress they’ll want to see, and turn sultry eyes toward the toothless male who seems to be in charge.

Fhord’s eyes are blazing now. It’s a wonder he doesn’t combust as he lies there.

“Did you come to save me?” I saunter over, dropping onto the log next to the male who lost his teeth to Fhord’s jealousy, nearly close enough to touch. When I look up into his face, my gaze reflects relief, gratitude. And then I steel myself and let a desire for Fhord I’ve been denying for too long fill my eyes.

“I couldn’t let this asshole hold you any longer,” he affirms as he turns toward me and places a hand on my leg, then gives it a little squeeze.

It takes everything I have to hold my expression in place, not flinch in disgust at this male. I can feel the edges of his emotions. The damaged pride that carried him here. The anger at Fhord, so strong it sends shivers through his muscles. And now the rising desire for me. He’s already starting to think of what he’ll demand in payment for my rescue. This is an ugly, cruel male and I don’t want to be anywhere near him.

But I don’t let the growing repulsion show in my face. Instead, I grin, lifting my hand to place it on his chest. I can feel his heart thundering beneath my fingers. He’ll be hard soon. And then he’ll be mine. “My hero,” I say in a breathless whisper. “Thank you.”

His hand moves farther up my thigh. He’s not wasting any time in telling me what he wants. But I need him to slow down. He has to get comfortable enough with me to let down his guard. That won’t happen right away.

“Let me make you breakfast. To show you how grateful I am.”

“I have something else in mind.” His voice is low, guttural. He looks toward the tent and then back at me, reaching for my hand.

“I’m hungry,” another male interjects. “Let the bitch feed us.”

“Later,” the leader responds. “I’ve got something to do first.”

“No, Olan,” a different one says, his voice almost pleading. Olan looks up, his eyes flashing. “We’re all hungry. We’ll give you all the time you want, but we came all the way out here for you. Let us eat.”

“Maybe she could do it naked,” the fourth male proposes, a note of lust in his words. I turn to stare, struggling to keep the terror from showing on my face. My thoughts drag me back to the Nest, the times they left me bound to a rack alone, legs and arms spread for all to see. “You can have her first, but I’d like to see what we’re waiting for.”

Now Fhord’s pissed. He’s struggling against his ropes, his grunts angry. I can feel the violence rippling off him, the blood rushing through his veins in wave after wave of hate. He’d rip these men to shreds if he could.

Olan turns back toward me, a grin erupting as he reaches out to lift my chin. “This one’s mine,” he says as his thumb swipes across my lips before pulling down the bottom one and pushing through my teeth, just a bit, while I fight the urge to bite him. My skin crawls where he touches me, and it’s a struggle to keep my expression from displaying my disgust. “We’ll find other women for you,” Olan adds. “I’m going to save her for myself.”

“That wasn’t what we agreed,” the fourth male spits out. “You said she’d be ours.”

Olan’s head snaps toward his comrade, and in an instant, he’s on his feet, a knife at the other male’s throat. “I changed my mind.” His words are venomous. “I decided to keep her for myself.”

Olan’s definitely in charge now. The other male drops his eyes, his shoulders drooping. “Take her,” he says after a moment. “I don’t care.”

Olan relaxes, re-sheathing his knife, and turns to me. “Cook. We’ll eat first.”

I smile and rise. He needs to believe I’m grateful. I close the distance between us and lean forward to kiss his lips lightly. “I knew you were my hero.” Dropping my voice to a whisper, I lean toward his ear. “I’ll thank you properly later.”

I move slowly, seductively, as I gather supplies and start to cook. I can still feel the vibrations coming from Fhord, a hatred so pure it feels tangible. Like it could take form and strangle these males as they sit. Beneath that anger, though, is fear. A dread for me, or maybe about me. The rational part of him must know I’m working these males, but a small part of him may be terrified my act is real. That I’m actually grateful for the rescue.

And I’m kind of pissed. Fhord hasn’t learned a thing about me in the days we’ve been together. But I shove that emotion deep inside too. These males can only see relief, gratitude. That’s what will pull Olan’s defenses all the way down.

We eat in silence, Fhord straining against his ropes the entire time. I want to tell him to relax and save his energy, but it wouldn’t do a bit of good. Fhord’s a stubborn male.

I can sense when Olan’s mood shifts. He sets the plate down and looks up at me, wiping his chin on the back of his hand. “It’s time for you to pay your debt,” he says as his hand moves toward his groin. It’s already bulging, I think. He doesn’t have much to brag about.

I better get this right, I think to myself as I let anticipation blossom on my face. I do not want that little prick anywhere near me. “You’ve waited long enough,” I agree as I rise and reach out a hand.

He stands, taking mine and letting me lead him into the tent. I suppress the shiver of disgust that tries to run down my spine as his friends offer a few lewd suggestions for what we should do.

“I’ll be a while,” Olan says as I reach out to drop the flap behind him. And then he lays down to watch me as I tie them in place. “Wouldn’t want an audience,” he adds, his voice raspy.

“I’m all yours,” I assure him as I spin to face him.

He’s still got his blades on him, but if I try to take them now, he’ll yell and I’ll be overpowered. I need to kill him quietly and leave this tent with weapons ready. That’ll take some work. But then I’ll have a chance.

He’s rubbing himself as his gaze roves up and down my body. “Take off your clothes,” he demands. “Not all of them. I want to see you in your skivvies.”

I watch him for a moment, repressing the shudder when a bit of drool trickles down his chin. A vise has bound my stomach, making me feel like I need to puke. My heart is already galloping inside my chest as I fight against my need to get away, try to keep the bile from rising into my throat. I wonder if he can see the sweat that’s coating my skin.

But he doesn’t want me naked yet. This will give me a little time to fight back.

I need him pliable, so I decide to give him a show. Get him as excited—and irrational—as I can. Moving slowly, my hips swaying to a beat I dredge up from my memories, I untie my pants and shimmy them down to the ground. Stepping out of them with a wink, I take the hem of my tunic and move it up my torso. Grazing my ribs and then the band wrapped around my breasts, my hands lift over my head to pull my top up and toss it away.

And then I turn, letting him see my near-naked form. When I face him again, he’s ready. His dick is probably as big as it’s going to get—still nothing to brag about but a little more respectable—and his hand can’t work it fast enough. “Now me,” he orders. “Take off my pants first.”

Thank fuck . This is the chance I need. I drop down next to him and release the twine that holds up his trousers. Letting one hand scrape along his crotch, I drag them down his legs, the other hand whisking away one of his blades while his thoughts focus on my touch. He’s so wrapped up in his lust he doesn’t even notice. The other knife comes loose, and I let him see me put it down.

But now his patience is gone. He pulls off his own shirt and lays back down, naked and erect. A skinny little pole greets me, quivering a bit as his gaze moves to my breasts. “I want to feel those next to me,” he says, his hand dropping down again to work his little stick of a dick.

I move quickly, hiding the knife behind my arm as I drop it to the ground to lay down next to him. And then I cover his mouth with one hand while the other swipes the blade across this throat.

Olan’s muffled cries fill the tent. They’re too loud, too distressed. His men will know it’s not sex driving his grunts and groans. My spine prickles when someone moves on the other side of the flap. I’m not ready to defend myself yet. But I can’t move my hand from his lips until I’m sure he won’t scream.

Long seconds pass as we lay there, his eyes shifting from an anger so intense it feels like it will burn me to fear and then resignation. I watch as he accepts the death that’s inevitable.

I don’t feel an ounce of guilt. Not yet. Maybe never. But I’ll worry about that later.

The conversation outside the tent has shifted. They know something’s wrong. Wiping the blade on his discarded shirt, I look away from the flap for a moment as I reach for the other knife. I’m still nearly naked but can’t risk the distraction of dressing.

And then I crouch and wait. Fhord is still alive—I can feel the anger and dread that ripples off him—so I’m pretty sure he’s safe for now. If they have to come in here, they’ll need to do it one by one. I can take them that way.

“Olan.” The first man speaks first, a tinge of nerves in his voice. “Done yet?”

I count twelve heartbeats as they wait for a response.

“Olan? Talk to us.” That sounds like the third male, the one who wanted me to cook naked. I’ll enjoy killing him.

Eight heartbeats this time. They’ll be coming in soon. I focus on my hands, will away the trembling. These males won’t see my fear.

When the flap lifts, I see his eyes first. It’s exactly who I’d hoped. One of my daggers flips through the air, landing in the middle of his throat. He drops to the ground, the cloth drooping onto his back as I lurch forward to take the knife, twist it and then pull it back toward me. It’s done its job.

“Fuck.” The first man’s voice floats toward me. But they won’t make this male’s mistake. I’ll need to go out to them. At least the odds are better now.

Fhord’s emotions shift as I hear his growl. He’s worried now. They’re threatening him.

“We’ll kill him if you don’t come out,” the first man yells out. “Now.”

We’re going to regret this, I know—because we only have one tent—but I can’t use the door. Spinning, my knives split the canvas that was behind me, moving through it like soft butter to create another opening. At least Olan’s knives are sharp. I step outside and slip around the tent, watching with satisfaction when they turn their gazes toward me.

And then my knives are spinning through the air. The males don’t have time to react before they land—one in a throat and the other in a chest. Fhord pushes up and away, rolling to put distance between them as the males grasp for the knives and pull them out. It won’t matter. My aim was true.

When Fhord’s movement stops, his head spins to find me. He smiles as he slowly looks down my barely-clad body, taking his time as he finds my breasts, nipples pushing through my bandeau, and the flat stomach that leads toward the parts that drive him mad. And then his eyes are focused on mine again. I see gratitude, respect. And some lust.

Now it’s my turn to inspect his body. I can’t suppress the grin, or the laugh that follows.

Fhord’s hard. Again.