Page 46 of Ravenrose

I drop the knife as my hands fly up to grip my head while screams erupt out of me. My lungs seize and I can’t—I can’t breathe. I tear at my throat, trying to free myself from the invisible crushing force. Another long moment of agony passes before the pain finally releases its malevolent grip on my psyche, leaving me a panting mess on my hands and knees before the still waiting captain.

Did he—did he just use magic?

Humans don’t have magic.

Ayer’s laughter only adds insult to injury, sending a rage that quickly counteracts the aftermath of the crippling pain from moments ago. In one quick instant, I move to strike again, snatching up the fallen knife while jumping to my feet, lifting my arm to drive the blade down once more—harder, faster. My intended target is the soft swath of skin at the side of his neck.

My arm catches in the air as if stopped by an invisible hand with such force that I stumble backward.

The same blinding pain clouds my vision once again, and I flinch violently away from it, scrambling to outrun or escape whatever this is, sending me falling forward—straight into him.

Chapter 22

ROWAN

Ayer reacts immediately, spinning me away from him. My breath catches when I once again hit the soft pallet of furs, this time face first. Even though the screaming pain is already holding me in a vise, he quickly renders me completely immobile, pinning both of my hands behind my back.

Since I’m no longer attempting to kill him, the violent wave of pain ebbs, releasing its deadly grip on me once again.

How is he doing that?

I fight his hold, but it’s no use. He leans in, and my body freezes at the touch of his warm breath against my ear.

“You almost had me convinced with that innocent little princess act of yours,” he breathes, tickling my skin, and I shiver. “But you are just as cold and ruthless as the rest of them.”

I thrash uselessly in his hold, and he presses a knee into my back to still me.

“Tricky things, possession runes…” he muses, and I freeze, an icy shiver trickling down the length of my spine. “That mark on your wrist,” he croons in that rough accent of his, dark and gritty, “it means you’re mine.”

I thrash again, and Ayer’s grip tightens on my arm to the point of pain. I bite down on my lip hard, drawing blood, in order to prevent a whimper of pain from escaping.

“I can do anything I want to you, but you... you can’t lay so much as a finger on me.”

I’m flipped onto my back so fast my head can barely keep up, still spinning from what must be the rebound effects of the rune’s magic. He releases my hands in favor of my throat. His grip tightens, cutting off my air. My hands fly to his. I pull at his grip, the rune allowing my attempts to pry it from my throat. But when that fails and I dig in my nails, blinding pain explodes again, and my eyes roll back, my body shaking.

Weak from lack of oxygen and unable to stand the pain, my hands drop to either side of my head in surrender. The pain immediately cuts off and Ayer loosens his grip, allowing me to suck in a desperate breath.

Tears leak down both of my cheeks, the echo of pain remaining. I just lay there, head spinning, watching the darkness slowly ebb out of my vision. It takes several seconds to recover—to focus on Ayer’s steel-gray eyes above, watching me. All I see is hatred. It’s intense—bitter and cold.

His massive body looms over mine, keeping me pinned. His hand still grips my throat. I can’t fight him, and the weight of the realization is crushing.

“I can do anything I want to you.”

But I can’t do anything to stop him.

He leans in closer, and instead of fear, a strange feeling of calm takes over.

I can’t fight him.

I can’t hurt him.

I can’t stop whatever comes next.

The helpless feeling is crushing, all-encompassing and too much—the ramifications are too much to comprehend, so my mind just… lets go.

I turn my head, looking away—not at anything in particular—my vision unfocused before I squeeze my eyes shut, escaping to the only place I have left: my mind.

Numbness takes over, and soon I’m floating through a dark void, aware but not of my body or who sits atop it.