Page 31

It’s an hour before we reach our destination, and as the trailer rolls to a stop, a wave of anxiety rolls through me. The guards shoot to their feet, unshackling the prisoner first, and unconcerned about me as they guide the beast of a man from the back of the truck. My gaze takes in the enormity of him, as he passes, ducking his head to keep from hitting the top of the trailer.

I can’t help but wonder how a man so strong, so intimidating, can be kept a slave. It isn’t until they’ve cleared him from the truck that I follow after them, greeted by the reason the guards weren’t concerned for my escape.

Across the yard ahead of me, the earth disappears beneath the wide expanse of open sky and surrounding water.

A cliff with no barrier.

Remus reaches out his good hand for me, one I hesitate to touch at first, but the distraction of this place steals my attention once more.

I step down from the back of the vehicle, keeping my gaze ahead, and once my feet hit the ground, I slide my hand from his grasp. Chickens and goats wander about, and I notice a long, boxed garden teaming with greenery at the opposite side of the grounds.

Twisting around shows a barbed fence across the length of the open yard behind me, one that lines the perimeter of what I estimate to be a prison at one time, if the guard towers and barred windows are anything to go by. There is no escape unless one were to leap over the edge of the cliff, and as my feet draw me closer, the wind whipping at my face, I realize it’d take more than faith to survive such a jump.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” Though I know nothing of this man, his voice is like a blade across my spine, an ominous sound like thunder before lightning, and I close my eyes, praying for the strength to endure whatever hell this is. “Come with me. I want to show you around your new home.”

With a deep breath, I trail his steps into the building, where the prison lobby seems to have been slightly modified into what almost looks like an enormous sitting room, with couches and lamps, coffee tables and potted plants set about the room.

Two dogs perk up, muscled beasts that remind me of the canine version of the prisoner who fought on my behalf. They trot over to the blond, who gives them an assuring pet on the head, before they sniff my legs and invasively shove their noses between my thighs.

Sliding my hand to block them, I jump back on a gasp, and Remus chuckles beside me.

“Uncouth mongrels. Forgive them. For they know not what they do.”

With their retreat, my muscles sag with relief, but it quickly evaporates with another look around the place. A suffocating cloud of misery hangs on the air, and at the visual of the man shackled in chains, something tells me these walls have seen their share of suffering.

If my father could speak to me now, I’m certain he’d tell me I’ve fallen into the hands of the devil himself.

Chapter 11

“What do you think?” Standing off to the side, Remus bites his nails, his eyes alight with some unseen fascination.

My room is one of the old prison cells, but slightly more decorated than I imagine they once were when they were actually used to house criminals. A plush, purple blanket draped over the small cot propped in the corner. A lamp with a pale purple shade, set on a small nightstand. A toilet with nothing more than a privacy curtain. Purple, of course. And a dirty, matted, purple rug in the middle of the floor.

“Agatha said you’d like purple. She said all girls like purple, so I made sure everything was purple for you.” Shuffling past me, he makes his way to the nightstand and opens the drawer, fetching out a flashlight. With a strange sort of giggle, he gives a few hard shakes and flicks it on and off. On and off. “I found this for you. You just shake it and it turns on.”

I’m familiar with these flashlights, as it’s all we use in Szolen. My mother told me that, when she was a child, flashlights used batteries, and though some batteries still exist, they’re rarely usable these days.

“In case you have to pee at night. Or hide from the monsters.”

Clearing my throat, I force a smile, the strange intricacies of the man’s personality slowly unraveling for me to see. “This, um … prison cell …. Will I be locked inside?”

“No. Well, only if you disobey. But I suspect a lady of your fine upbringing won’t be so inclined to break the rules here. Agatha assured me you wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“Who’s Agatha again?”

“My bride. To be. We’ve not, uh … tied the knot, or anything.”

“I see. And, um … how will I serve … you and Agatha?”

“By bearing a child. A daughter, preferably.”

In spite of the attempt to school my face, a harsh swallow betrays my calm, and the urge to gag tugs at the back of my throat. To hell with that. And what will he do to me when he finds I can’t bear his child? Throw me off that cliff?

“But let’s not discuss business right now. I want to get you settled and comfortable.” Eyes wide with an unnerving stare, he slides the thin strap of my dress between his mangled fingers. He trails his touch down my arm, where he lets his thumb draw a line along the edge of my breast, and my skin crawls at the sensation. “Your skin is so perfect. Unmarked. Stunning.”

“Thank you.” The sound of my voice seems to draw his eyes back to mine, and I swear his pupils look like slits.

“Get settled. In the meantime, I’ll have some food prepared.”