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You’ve been in the Northlands one time, with Iris. And that was this past week. You have no clue as to where you are . . . at least not yet.
Irritated with my own logic, longing to run willy-nilly out of the cave, to put distance between myself and the freak-ass pervert waiting somewhere around here to pick his teeth with my rib bones, I crept through the shadows over to the mouth of the cave and peeked out.
Fuck. Just fuck me hard now.
Outside the entrance, a narrow ledge covered in ice and snow wound down the mountain. Narrow, as in so thin I’d be lucky not to topple over the edge the minute I tried to make a run for it. And we were at high altitude. I could see the peaks of other mountains.
I gazed over the panorama spreading out before me. If I weren’t being held captive, it would be beautiful—a swath of white that linked glacier to glacier to . . . glacier . . . Wait a minute. Could it be? I squinted. In the far distance, I saw something against the side of the mountain that looked vaguely familiar.
Could that be the Skirts of Hel? We’d been there with Iris. Granted, if it was, it was still at least a day down the mountain, and then a good stretch of harsh walking from here. And no doubt, the path would be fraught with crevasses and avalanche danger. But if it was the glacial ice field, it was the one glimmer of hope I could cling to. Because near the Skirts of Hel Howl, the Great Winter Wolf Spirit, made his home. And he was an Elemental Lord. He could go up against a dragon, being one of the true Immortals.
A noise made me jump. Someone was coming. I hurried back to the fire, managing to lie back down before they entered the room. I had positioned myself so that I could see who it was through slitted eyes.
Hyto. Hell and double hell. From what he’d said, I had the feeling he was planning on leaving me alive until Smoky got here, but what shape I’d be in was up for debate. I wondered whether it would be best to continue playing asleep or prepare myself in advance in case he decided to kick me or something. I wouldn’t put it past him. In the end, I chose to roll up into a squatting crouch from which I could either run or jump away.
He swept in, eyeing me with an impassive expression. It would have been hard to place his age, though if he were human I’d put him in his late forties. But he was lean and towering, like Smoky, and as much as I didn’t want to, I could see a resemblance in the facial structure. There, the similarities ended.
His gaze never leaving my face, he slowly strolled over in my direction. The arrogant smirk on his lips would have been frightening enough, but the look in his eyes was as frozen as the ice. No mercy. No compassion.
I slowly stood, backing away as he entered the ring of stones and kept walking toward me. I wanted to say something, but what was there to say? Please rethink this? You’re going to die? Oh yes, that would work on a dragon.
He stopped about a foot away from me, and his gaze traveled from my feet up my body, lingering over my hips and my breasts. The ice in his eyes melted just a little, replaced by a fiery lust.
Worse, far worse than the cold, aloof look.
“Still not going to beg for your life? Still not going to beg my indulgence? You are too insolent for a mortal—be you half-Fae or not.” And he reached out with a tendril of hair. I thought he was going to use it to caress me again, but instead it coiled back like a serpent and then struck, slashing my cheek.
The sting of the blow caught me off guard and I gasped, bringing my hand to my face. A warm trickle of blood oiled my fingers and I began to shake. I took a step backward, but he caught my wrist with the same strands.
“Say it. Beg me for your life. I will not ask again.” His eyes spun now, a whirl of mist and fog, and I could see the dragon rising behind him in his aura, so huge, so ancient that he’d probably watched mountains be born and die. He meant every word he said, and I didn’t want to find out so soon just how far his temper could be pushed.
My knees began to give and I stuttered, “Please . . . please spare me.” Ashamed, angry I’d given in so soon, I hung my head as my words came out in a whisper. But the blood on my cheek was running freely, and the man towering over me could splinter me like an axe splintering kindling.
“There, was that so hard?” He reached out with one hand and lifted my chin. “You will learn your manners, Mistress Camille. You will learn your place in my society. You will learn what it means to truly serve a dragon.”
And then he pushed me away and I went sprawling to the floor. I didn’t move—I didn’t want to set him off again.
“I will have a woman come and prepare you. You are not properly attired to sit in my presence. You will do as she says.” He turned and began to walk away. Over his shoulder, he added, “Oh, Camille? If you’re thinking of trying to escape, I give you this one warning: If you succeed, I will return to your house and destroy every single inch of your property. I will raze it to the ground. I will rape your sisters and that irksome sprite you keep around. And then, I will eat them.”
And with that, he vanished back into the depths of the cavern.
I waited until he left, then scrambled to my feet. What the hell was I going to do? I couldn’t escape—not without help or supplies. And if I did . . . would he truly carry through on his threats?
That is not the question, my gut echoed back at me. You know he’ll carry through. The question is, will they be able to stop him before he manages to destroy everything in sight?
I huddled near the fire, waiting, until another set of footsteps warned me someone else was coming. It was a woman, as Hyto had said, and right away I could tell she was no dragon. She was one of the Northmen, from the looks of her. Sturdy build, with long, stringy, flaxen hair and muscles that told me she wouldn’t put up with any shit from anybody. Which meant that unless I could take her out with a spell, I wouldn’t be fighting my way past her.
She motioned for me to follow her, and, silently, I did.
We headed deeper into the cavern, and the persistent howl of the wind railed around us. The cave was so large and spacious that I could easily see Hyto changing form here. The walls were spare and worn smooth, and the supporting stalagmites and stalactites had grown up thick over the centuries. This cave had withstood time, and it felt old and hollow and deep.
I cleared my throat and eyed the woman. “May I speak?” I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her fists, either.
But she just nodded, seeming to understand me. I’d spoken in a variant of the Northern tongues—roughly, I wasn’t that proficient, but I knew enough to get by. It would be useless to ask where we were, so I sucked in a deep breath and asked, “What are you going to do with me?”
“Prepare you for the Master. You are not dressed appropriately. I will bathe you and dress you and feed you.” As she spoke, her face remained unchanging, but I caught a glimmer of pity in her eyes.
Hanging my head, turning on my glamour full force, I nodded slowly. “I did not choose to come here. He kidnapped me.”
