Page 14

Chapter thirteen

S afe? Her jailor was delusional. She was not safe here. He’d murdered his own males. They would offer him no respect or loyalty. Worse, she was now a trophy they would attempt to take and break to strike at him.

Astrid closed the window and secured the lock.

She assessed the space again, pausing on his desk.

Firelight glinted off the decorative scrollwork on his scabbard.

Twin short swords lay on the oak edge. Astrid rushed to the small table and pulled the closer blade free.

She flicked her wrist, twirling the handle as she tested its balance.

The weapon was exceptionally crafted, and the leather warmed between her fingers.

Her hold felt secure and lethal. If one of his winged comrades came for her, she would tear their souls from their bodies and hack their wings off.

Astrid glanced at the other sword. Thin, dark wisps colored the leather-wrapped handle. It wasn’t weathered and the erratic, overlapping pattern didn’t accentuate the lines of the blade. Astrid examined it and dread hollowed her, turning her blood to ice.

Her hand trembled and Dimitri’s short sword slipped through her fingers. The tip struck the oak planks with a metallic ring before its deafening clatter marred the hardwood floor.

Her virgin blood stained the leather. His rough treatment, memorialized, and now mocked her.

Hot rage and shame twisted inside her. She was an E’lan Vital. The strongest of her kind. She was above being at the mercy of males. Of anyone.

But here she was—helpless.

Her eyes burned. Astrid clenched her teeth, pushing the tears back. She wasn’t helpless.

Without thinking, Astrid snatched her fallen weapon and swung. The short sword crashed against the desk, hacking at its twin’s stained handle.

She was trapped.

Astrid swung again, harder this time.

All she could see was the evidence of how he’d used her. Hurt her.

Astrid swung blindly, sending leather chunks and wood chips across the floor.

She hacked until her arms went numb. Until the rage left her. Until the table was in ruins and the bent, warped weapon Dimitri had used on her was nothing but mangled steel.

A wail of hurt, rage, and shame tore from her chest, and she hurled the twisted metal with all her might.

Steel met the windowpane with a loud clang and the ruined sword clattered to the floor.

She struggled for a deep breath, forcing her mind to clear.

Her fury plateaued and she gingerly touched the unbroken glass.

Ledivion was a war-mongering kingdom. They had as many fire weavers as Clorea had E’lan Vital. Their weavers would reinforce and enchant their glass and steel.

Astrid peered through the window at the snow-covered garden. There were no archways leading out, because why would you walk when you have wings? She supposed she should be thankful there were stairs in the palace at all. It would have been far more difficult to escape had he flown her to a tower.

Once her jailor was bleeding out on his sheets, she would slip away. She refused to be caged behind these imposing stone walls, confined to a pond and a few skeletal trees. If a guard or two got in her way, a trail of bodies would litter her path to freedom.

Astrid frowned at the ruined desk and the scabbards she’d hacked to pieces.

Dimitri would rampage about the damage she’d done, but fuck him .

She glanced at his mangled weapon. Rage curled in her chest like an animal crammed into a cage much too small.

Astrid picked up the weapon by its twisted blade and stalked to the fireplace.

Eradicating it from existence would soothe her fury.

There’d be no sword—or Dimitri—by sunrise.

She stood close to the fire as steel blackened and leather burned. Occasionally, the logs shifted, emitting a plume of tiny embers. The sword rolled to the edge of the flames and Astrid cursed. She reached for the fire poker then stilled…

Why would I use this crude iron when I could use the blade’s twin?

Astrid retrieved Dimitri’s remaining weapon and prodded the broken sword back into the center of the blaze.

She hugged her arms and let the glowing warmth comfort her.

Minutes passed before the door clicked.

“Finally catch a chill, neva?” Dimitri asked from behind her.

Astrid adjusted her grip on the handle, leaving the tip lowered as she tracked his movements without turning.

Metal clanked together behind her. “Did my desk upset you?”

His booted steps approached her, and Astrid spun, brandishing her weapon.

Dimitri exhaled a harsh laugh and slowed to a stop. “You raise my swords against me?” He assessed her. Then, his attention lowered to the flames and the remains of his sword.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Astrid swung and his wing lashed out. The hard, boned edge scraped down the top of the blade until it met the guard. A sharp twist yanked the sword from her hand, sending it flying.

The rough edge of his wing jammed into her chest next, slamming her back against the arched window. Shadows burst from him and engulfed the flames. They suffocated in an instant and even the smoke was claimed under Dimitri’s death magic. He bent to retrieve the blackened remains of his weapon.

“You did this?” he asked, holding the mangled metal near her face as though she were a misbehaving animal.

The cold glass bit into Astrid’s back and she leaned away from the blade.

“You’ve stolen your virgin blood from me, Princess,” he said, leaning into her.

“Touch my swords again and I’ll refashion them with spiked pommels. ”

Astrid looked past him, focused on the dark wood beams intersecting the vaulted ceiling. His breath fanned across the shell of her ear as he rasped, “You’ll still take them into your cunt, and I’ll fuck your ass with them as punishment.”

He shoved her away and stalked to his desk.

Astrid remained silent while he picked over the splintered wood.

Her jailor calmly opened the large window near his closet then lifted the heavy desk.

Astrid swallowed dryly as he hurled it out the window with far too much ease.

It crashed into the snow, tumbling through the garden, followed by its chair.

Astrid tensed, ready to fight when his malicious attention returned to her.

Dimitri paced in front of debris, running his hand through his dark hair. “Sit there and do not move.” He pointed at the foot of his bed.

A blinding rage flushed Astrid’s cheeks and her voice dripped with vitriol. “You cannot command me.”

Dimitri rushed toward her and his hand closed around her throat. Astrid held her ground and leaned into his grip, lifting her chin. She would survive their ordeal, and his lifeless corpse would greet the dawn.

“I am your god,” he hissed, further constricting her breath.

She was weightless the next moment. The crushing pain on her neck was amplified by the angle at which he’d lifted her. Dark curls fanned across her vision and Astrid twisted to right herself. She got her legs under her and braced for her knees to meet the hardwood floor.

The impact was painless and giving. Astrid bounced against his mattress, grasping the bedding as she dug her feet into his sheets to slow her momentum.

“I am your fate,” he yelled, stabbing two fingers into his chest.

He ripped the furs and blankets off the bed and Astrid created more distance, slinking from the mattress to place the bed between them. She healed the bruising around her throat as he continued his tantrum and proceeded to throw the blankets out into the snow.

“You will curl to me for warmth,” he said bitterly.

“You won’t have anything to eat if I freeze to death,” Astrid shouted.

“It’s not that cold,” Dimitri answered, moving to the armoire.

Astrid shivered and rose to close the window. An icy breeze drifted between the towel folded around her body, and the furs she’d been eyeing now laid wet in the snow. She debated retrieving them.

A click drew Astrid’s attention. Dimitri withdrew a broom and dustpan from the wardrobe she’d believed to be a weapons cache. Folded cloths and cleaning supplies filled the shelves while larger tools were stored in the open cabinet beside them.

What kind of noble kept cleaning supplies in their quarters?

Astrid closed the window and stood silently as he meticulously swept the leather and wood debris. He took several passes over the already-clean area and placed the bin in the hall before returning the broom to its place.

Astrid expected the brunt of his attention, but he retrieved his swords instead. Her jailor glared at her then. Betrayal flickered through his molten gold stare so quickly Astrid questioned whether she imagined it. Warriors treasured their weapons and Astrid frowned at her mistake.

She should have destroyed them both.

Dimitri leaned his weapons against his nightstand and ran his hand through his onyx hair.

Astrid observed him meticulously arranging his dark strands before straightening his suit jacket.

His near compulsive grooming mirrored his cleaning a spotless floor moments ago, but the ritual seemed to calm him.

Dimitri inspected himself one final time before taking a seat on his bed. Astrid remained at the window as he picked up the plate of braised meat. The food was tempting but she was more interested in the black pouch he’d left beside the gray marble tray.

“Come,” he said in a calm tone she didn’t trust.

Astrid’s mouth watered but she refused to get any closer.

“Now, or I’ll tie you to my bed,” Dimitri grated.

She needed her hands to command souls, and escape would be impossible if she were restrained. Astrid took one step, then another, and sat stiffly beside him. His wing curled around her, and she arranged herself so the thick bones framing his additional appendage didn’t touch her.

His proximity took the chill out of the air, a fact she would never admit. Dimitri lifted the plate between them and held up a morsel of meat, pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

Astrid leaned away and inspected the cuts on the plate. “What is that?” she asked.

“What I eat each time I return home.” Astrid glared at him, and he clarified, “Swan. White swan, if you want to be specific.”

Astrid leaned closer and inhaled. It smelled similar to duck with an undertone of rosemary. She lifted her eyes, and his molten gaze was watching her mouth.

She leaned forward and carefully bit down on the meat. He didn’t let go like she expected. Astrid drew back and managed to tear a small strip free, and that dick was still holding on to the swan meat he offered.

He expected her to lick and suck her dinner from his hand. Temper overran logic and Astrid leaned forward. Her eyes remained locked with his as she parted her lips. The tip of her tongue caressed the tension between his index and thumb. His eyes hooded and Astrid smiled opening her mouth wider.

She bit down on the joint of his finger and clenched her jaw.

Astrid expected him to snatch his hand away and maybe get a taste of his blood, but he shoved her back instead. His weight pinned her; his knees trapped her arms. Astrid choked as he shoved two fingers past her teeth and into her throat.

She thrashed violently and tossed her head, but it was no use. He’d trapped her beneath him. His fingers pressed deeper, and Astrid gagged as he leaned in. Her eyes watered and he pulled back a fraction.

“Now, now,” he said, languidly stroking his fingers over her tongue.

His knuckles forced her lips wider, and rage saturated her thoughts. Astrid instinctively angled her wrists. The hard muscles of his thigh met her fingertips. She commanded his soul, but it didn’t answer.

Astrid glared up at him while he idly fucked her mouth.

“Bite me again and I’ll shove my dick in your ass. Are we clear, my vicious neva?”

The amusement in his voice burned her. He deserved an eternity of pain, but his immunity to her magic necessitated a quick kill. Sharp and efficient.

Astrid swallowed her humiliation and relaxed her jaw.

“Good girl,” he purred, letting her up.

He removed a handkerchief from his jacket, then calmly wiped his fingers.

Astrid stiffened when his attention returned to her.

He folded the linen square in half and curled his index under her chin.

Astrid remained still as the handkerchief caressed her skin in soft, quiet strokes.

This deranged lunatic thought she was his pet and expected her to willfully accept her new position.

His membranous wing curved around her, tugging her closer. Astrid resented his warmth and hated the feel of his boney wings. She swallowed the impulse to bash her elbow across his smug face.

Prey at ease die quickly, she reminded herself.

Dimitri lifted the plate between them and offered her another morsel of swan pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Amusement danced in his molten gold eyes, and her silent threat hung between them.

Go to sleep so I can kill you .