Page 120 of White Raven

“Answer me!” he rumbled, his eyes flashing.

My heart bashed against my ribs at his touch, making me feel dizzy, yet oddly centered. As though I had found my footing again, that whoever that girl was who had given up, it wasn’t me.

“I-I donn’t kkn-ow,” I croaked. Something felt off, like I wasn’t in my right mind before.

“You don’t know?” he spat. “I come in to find you at the bottom of your tub and you give me I don’t know?”

“Why do you care anyway?” My throat raw. “Why are you even here?” Emotion sputtered without my consent. “You knew what would happen tonight, didn’t you? That he had the wedding planned?”

“Yes.”

“And Brynden?”

“You think I give a fuck about that fitte? I would’ve happily been the one to stab him through.” He spat, causing Munch to click in louder bursts. “Now why were you trying to drown yourself?”

“You’re scaring him,” I whispered.

“Scaring him?” He choked on a humorless laugh, his hands gripping my biceps as he lifted me out of the water.

His gaze moved over me, his throat bobbing as he took in my dripping, naked figure, my wet strands cascading down like a sheer curtain. A nerve in his cheek twitched. A growl caught in his throat, his focus drawing back up to my face, his lids narrowing.

“I didn’t consider you someone who would take the cowardly way out.”

“Fuck you,” I replied defensively. “You aren’t the one married off to a psychopath who will force your legs open so he can breed you before he kills you.”

“You don’t think I know what it’s like to suffer under his hand?” His fingers slid over my tattoos, forcing a gasp from my lips. He yanked me in, my wet body soaking the tunic and trousers he’d changed into. “To be stripped, humiliated, and beaten by him? Though that is the way of a king. Including yours.”

He let me go for a moment, and I wobbled on weak legs. He ripped off his shirt. Hatred and resentment locked his muscles.

“See these?” He pointed to deep red scars on his torso, twisting around to his back. “And these. They are from your father.”

“My father’s general.” General Backe was my father’s right-hand man and oversaw the prisoners. He dealt out their punishment and duties.

“No.” He stepped back into me. “By King Stallard himself.”

I shook my head. Vorian was a strict man, very hard to please. He struck me a few times when Sarina and I did something foolish, being silly kids, but he never beat me.

“Your father would make trips down to the prisoner cells on occasion. Take his frustration and anger out on us. Beat Raelis until he blacked out.”

“No.” Bile crept up my throat.

“Yes, kanin.” He pressed back into me, his erection unyielding against me through his trousers. My nipples rubbed against the fabric of his shirt, my skin tingling. The taste of death still coursed through my blood. “And I know what it feels to have nothing to live for.” His hand skated up between my breasts, circling around my throat. The moment his hand cupped over his tattoo, I felt my skin zap to life, a groan sticking in my throat.

“I wish I’d never marked you. Then you really would be his now, and I wouldn’t have to care,” he hissed roughly, and his eyes roamed down my mark, his heated gaze stopping on my breasts. The feel of his massive erection pulsed against my stomach. “You’re not the only one obligated by duty.”

“Soon he will cover it over with his and you won’t have to worry about it anymore?”

“Doesn’t work like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because this won’t cease . . . you wonder why I’m here? Because I’m losing my sanity. You are fucking everywhere.” He peered down at the tattoo on his hand. “I can’t escape it.”

I felt the same way about the mark on my neck. “Is that how you knew I was drowning? You felt me?”

He pulled me in so close there was no space between us, his mouth almost brushing mine. “I feel your every fucking breath. I’m so aware of you, I can’t fucking think straight.” He snarled. “And I want it to end. I didn’t know it would be like this.”

“Then you should’ve let me die,” I snarled back.