Page 40 of White Raven

My protest sizzled on the tip of my tongue, but I bit back. Grinding my teeth, I lowered myself onto the pine needles, glowering up at him.

“I said lie down.”

Red tainted my vision. He could see the rage constricting my muscles, enjoying the power he had over me.

Inhaling, I wrapped my cloak around me and curled up on my side, facing away from him. He dropped down next to me, and my back stiffened when I felt his body brush mine. I tried to worm away, put space between us. His arms came around me, pulling me into him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I sat back up, protesting his hold. “Don’t touch me.”

“You think I want to?” he sneered, yanking the laces out of his boots, using them to tie my wrists together, then wrap one around his own wrist, triple-knotting them. “I need some sleep, and I don’t trust you not to sneak off.”

“I won’t.”

“Forgive me for not believing a word you say.” He rechecked the bonds, making sure I couldn’t get out of them. Balling up his cloak under his head, he plunked down with a huff, tugging my arm when he shoved it under his head and closing his eyes as if I wasn’t there.

Dizzy with rage, I sat there, his slow, even breaths met with the soft breeze whistling through the tower, echoing like the moans of ghouls against the stone. My bones sagged, exhaustion claiming every piece of me. My system cried to shut down, black out the starving stomach, the pain, the lack of sleep, and the grief I still had not fully acknowledged. I had lost someone who was like a sister. I could easily blame the man lying next to me, but so much of it was my fault.

My head dropped forward, the short, uneven strands falling on either side of my face. The wound in my arm throbbed, not letting me forget—I had almost been chopped up and eaten. The king would never find out what happened to me. The White Raven vanishing, my soiled betrothal dress and shoes the only evidence I ever passed through that area. Another woman’s memento of what happened in that cabin.

Lowering myself fully back down to the ground, I blinked numbly up at the collapsing ceiling, covered in vines and roots, the dim light casting through the windows. I craved the sunlight, wanting the rays to shred through the darkness, where horrors seem to flourish and thrive.

The shadowy light was a reminder that as the sky darkened, my chances of getting home dwindled. There was no doubt the king had guards searching for me, commoners on the lookout for any sign of me. My kidnapping was a declaration of war, but here I felt nothing but the quiet. The isolation. The terror no one would find me. Or possibly even care.

Homesick and broken, I turned on my side, forgetting the string tying my wrist to his. His arm came around me, his body curving in behind. He muttered something in his sleep, tucking in tighter, his heat blasting over my chilled skin.

My will wanted to throw him off, get as far as I could from him, but my body had no fight left.

I craved slumber, where I could mentally elude the bonds I could not physically escape.

CHAPTER 10

“You let me die, Wren.” Sarina stood before me, her skin sunken into bone but the gash on her neck still trickling blood, staining her pallid dress, dripping onto the snowy rug. She leaned in. I could feel the whimper in my throat, the burning tears filling my chest.

“I’m so sorry.”

Her lips pulled up, exposing bone. “It was supposed to be you!”

I gasped awake, my heart pounding.

“No . . . stop.” The deep growl in my ear surged my pulse with alarm. Still wrapped in my nightmare, I blinked, my gaze darting around the unfamiliar place, searching for the threat, trying to understand what was going on.

“Nooo.” The frame twitched behind me, plucking me fully from my daze and dropping me into reality, reminding me of where I was and who I was with.

The Night Raven moaned in his sleep, gripping me with a punishing hold.

Cognizance slammed into me, surging more adrenaline through my veins like a drumbeat. My head was using his arm as a pillow, our bound wrists tucked under my cheek. His body was twined around me like a snake. There wasn’t an inch of space between us.

Fy faen . . .

The girth of his arousal pressed against me. His warm hand tucked inside my skirt at my lower belly, the tips of his fingers skating past the top of my undergarments.

My voice stuck in my throat, not moving.

I would blame the body’s natural reaction to my situation, heat climbing up my spine, dampening my skin. The need to feel raw pain and pleasure in a time of hell. To flee from all my grief and agony. Where fear became a thrill.

He’s your captor, Wren!

I tried to squirm out of his arms. The Northerner muttered again, his hold snaking in. Agony tainted his moan, reminding me of the first night he held me captive in the cabin. The night he woke up screaming.