Stepping into the cell, I watch him through narrowed lids as he slams closed a door made of iron bars, locks it, and pockets the key, then gestures for my hands to slice off the rope.
As soon as I’m free, I heave out my cock—yes, heave—and piss on his boots, holding his gaze the entire time.
I don’t like being pushed around.
“What the fuck?” he squeals, bouncing back before I can drench him, although I catch part of his pants as he tries to dance out of my reach. “You really are a pathetic bastard, aren’t you?” he bellows, shaking out the foot that got the worst of it.
“You will not touch me again.” My voice is low, commanding.
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to you,” he declares. “Starting by pissing in the stew and water I’m about to bring you. Enjoy your meals here, Wregen. You’ll be tasting a lot of me over the next few days.”
Cocking my head, I flatten my expression and watch him walk away. I don’t give a fuck what he does to my food. I’ve spent centuries consuming whatever Hel demands as part of her mercurial punishments—and there aren’t many things in Helheim worth eating. Nothing he might do could be worse.
I need to sit down but they won’t catch me on my ass. Fhord ordered them to feed me, and feed me they will. Soon, if I’ve read the politics here right.
Within fifteen minutes, someone I don’t recognize comes down the stairs, a tray in hand. He doesn’t hesitate as he nears the cell, setting the meal on the floor outside the door—close enough for me to reach everything if I’m on my ass. I’m fucking hungry, but I’ll be damned if I drop to the floor in front of a single one of these bastards.
“Mik tried to piss in it,” the male says in a voice I recognize as belonging to Birger. “I’d probably do the same if you peed on my boots, but you didn’t, so I stopped him. The stew is safe to eat.”
I don’t have anything to say to him, so I don’t.
“I’ll let you eat before I start questioning you,” Birger says in a kind tone. “This can be easy if you’ll let it. Or it can be hard. Your choice.”
“I will speak with the female who leads the elves you stole from Helheim,” I tell him in the cold tone that collapses wraiths to their knees in my realm. “Nobody else.”
“We didn’t ‘steal’ any elves from your mistress,” he responds with a smirk. “They’re home again, where they want to be and belong. Regardless, you’ll speak with me in this cell, or with Fhord in a different room, that has drains for the blood you’ll shed. As I told you, that’s your choice. But it will be one of us. No other.”
“Then I won’t speak.” I shrug, watching him with the same cold look I gave Mikkael.
He holds my gaze for a long time, his lips set in a thin line. Occasionally, his eyebrows draw together or he shakes his head, one side of his lips tugging up, but he’s as silent as me. The soup must be cold by now and I’m so mother fucking hungry, I could scream, but I’ll be damned to the pit before I show him any weakness.
Finally, my stomach rumbling for a fourth time, he dips his chin. “We’ll try tomorrow,” he says as he leans over and takes my food, then turns and walks away.
Well, fuck. The stakes are set. I didn’t intend to send away my meal, though that’s exactly what I did. Now, I need to see it through. I’m an elf, so I won’t die. And I’ve been miserable before. If this is what it takes to see Finaan—to make sure she’s the only one who questions me—this is what we’ll do.
Birger visits me the second day, a steaming bowl of stew and fresh bread leading the way. It smells wickedly divine—almost better than Finaan’s cunt, although nothing could surpass that—but since the tempting cunt isn’t carrying the tray, I won’t be eating it. We repeat yesterday’s stare-off, my dinner slowly growing cold on the floor as I fight to stay on my feet instead of dropping to my ass and slurping it down. But this time I’ve slept, which helped restore some of my strength. When I’ve won this battle, Birger shrugs, retrieves the tray and walks away.
The third day’s easier. My stomach has adjusted to this new reality and no longer demands food. The scent is tempting but not painfully so. Birger must realize it, because he doesn’t stay as long. The meat pie he’s brought me today probably is still warm when he lifts it and starts eating in front of me. I watch, my face blank, until he pops the final bite in his mouth, takes the plate, and leaves.
Fhord comes on the fourth day, and he’s not alone. Three men join him, ropes in hand. I don’t move as they bind my arms behind my back, and offer neither objection nor resistance when they lead me down the hall toward the room with the drain in the floor. They attach my wrists to a rope and yank, pulling me to my toes as my shoulders pop out of their sockets.The rush of agony—as if knives have cleaved my arms off, every nerve in my torso announcing their loss at once—almost renders me senseless.
But it doesn’t. They will not see any weakness from me. Even my breath holds firm as I struggle to hide any suggestion of the torment rippling through my body.
Shoving the anguish of this frail body into the hole I created to escape Hel’s punishments, I focus on Finaan. Our bond has been so strong these last few days, a constant presence that’s bolstered my resolve when I needed it. I can even feel echoes of her emotions as she moves through this world, the joy of being with friends she’s made here, along with a desperate need to find something missing from her life. Overlaying all of it, though, is curiosity. About me, I’m certain. She’s as connected to me as I am to her, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.
I fed the bond between us in Helheim, deepening the link she won’t be able to deny. Although most days I simply wanted release as I watched her sleep, I sometimes went to Finaan craving more than an orgasm. Craving her mouth or her cunt. Hel’s penalty for one failure or another had torn something from me I didn’t want to lose, and so I sought out the only person who could make me whole. She slept, as she always did, but that didn’t matter. Her naked body lay in front of me, giving me everything I needed.
As I shiver through a slice along my thigh and push that pain into the cavity inside me where everything bad is buried, I concentrate on the first time, the most cleansing moment I’ve ever had with Finaan. My cock grows—Fhord’s torturewaking Wrath with a desperate need—and I picture her glistening pussy. I’d been following Finaan that day, watching as she wasted time with Svend, that fucker. She spent more of her days with him than with me, and I hated him for it.
She’d been sleeping for many hours when Hel finally released me, so it didn’t take much to deepen her rest. I took my time removing the gown she wore to sleep, chasing it up her legs and over her heaving tits with my hands and tongue. And then I kneeled over her, opened her mouth, and fed her my cock.
I’d never tried this before, always using my hand to come. But I’d been thinking about it for a long time. I’d beenneedingit for a long time. Eventually, I’d try her cunt, see if I could keep my visits secret even when I’ve used her the way I really wanted, felt her wrap around me and squeeze out every last drop.
Not this night, though. I started with her mouth and let her taste me in her dreams.
And fuck me if it didn’t work better than I ever hoped. As soon as I hit her throat, she wrapped her luscious lips around me and sucked. When she started moaning, I almost lost it. By the gods, did I wish I could wake her so she could experience this with me.
I’d never risk her that way, though. This would be enough. It would have to be enough.
