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I had gotten used to the quiet, so when he spoke up, I jumped. “Why were you in that alleyway?” he asked, turning his head to look at me over his shoulder.
I frowned at the small tangle I was currently picking through with the comb. He knew why. Was he trying to embarrass me by making me say it out loud? “You know why, Ansel.”
“No, I don’t,” he insisted, angling his body towards me so his hair slipped from my hands, and I was forced to look at him. Forced to look at the strong bridge of his nose and the square line of his jaw up close. Even after everything that had happened, his roguish features still took my breath away. And sitting this close, I’m sure my lips were turning blue from hypoxia. “What I can’t wrap my head around is why a good girl like yourself would be in that situation. You don’t seem the type.”
Because I’m not.His words struck deep. I know he didn’t mean to, but it was a direct hit to the Carter nerve. I wasn’t good. There was something terribly wrong with me because if there wasn’t—if I had been a better girlfriend to Carter—I would still be with him. We’d probably be at home right now, maybe even planning our wedding. And I wouldn’t be here, Ansel’s prisoner and now personal hairstylist. “Turn your head around,” I said sullenly, twirling my finger in the air. “Please stop moving, or I will hurt you with this comb.”
Ansel obeyed without a word, and I parted his hair into two sections, splitting it perfectly down the middle of his head. Though he didn’t ask me to, I started braiding his hair, giving him two French braids that were so perfectly executed, they would have been the envy of any girl on her way to summer camp. It was my way of making him look silly—a passive aggressive fuck you. But as I stood to examine my work from the front, I was disappointed to find that not even French braids could diminish his ruggedness.
“All done,” I said, handing over the comb.
“Thank you,” he said, patting his head to inspect my work.
“Yeah, no problem. When I had longer hair, I liked sleeping in braids. It kept my hair from getting snarled in the morning.” He reached out, lightly touching the edge of my bob. It was frizzed out from not being able to use my styling products, but the way he stared at me made my nipples tighten against my shirt. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips. Full. Soft. Because of his tusks, his lower lip was in a permanent pout, and I could see the line where his lip turned from green to pink. I wanted to kiss that line.
“Why did you cut your hair?” he asked, watching me intently.
I sighed, my eyes moving downward to my feet. Just another Carter reminder: I had cut my hair saying I needed a change—the typical post break-up haircut—but I really did it because it gave my face the illusion that it was slimmer than it really was. If my ex found out I got hotter, maybe he’d want me back. “I don’t know. Guess I needed a change,” I said, moving my head and pulling my hair out of his grasp.
“It suits you,” he said. “I like that I can see your cute little ears poking through.”
I touched the edge of my pointy ears. I had always hated my ears, they were small and looked more human than fae, but hearing Ansel call them cute made my cheeks warm.
We didn’t speak the rest of the night. It was late and though I had spent the day sitting on my ass, I couldn’t stop yawning. Ansel was more than eager to turn off the lights. I thought he was acting strangely—he seemed antsy almost—but then again, he was a stranger with a gaping wound in his stomach. This could be normal behavior for him.
“Sweet dreams, Skye,” he said from his sleeping pad on the ground.
“Night.” I watched Ansel’s outline in the darkness from my spot on the bed; something nudging me in the back of my mind. He was up to something, but I couldn’t figure out what yet. I shifted around in the bed, pretending to find a comfortable spot. When I did, I heaved a long sigh, and closed my eyes.
But I had no intention of falling asleep. Not until I figured out what he was up to.
After thirty minutes of relaxed breathing, and almost falling asleep a few times, but catching myself at the last moment before I was too far gone, Ansel’s head rose in the darkness. I watched him through narrow eyes as he turned his head towards me, confirming I was asleep, and stood from the ground. He tiptoed across the floor as quietly as a mouse, much too quietly for an orc of his size, and disappeared through the door, leaving it slightly cracked.
My heart pounded with a bolt of excitement. He didn’t lock the door! Was this my chance to escape?
I flung off the comforter and raced to the door, my heart pounding like a steel drum in my ears. I paused just outside the door, before opening it just enough for me to slip through. I dropped to the floor once I realized I wasn’t alone. The ground floor was occupied. I heard Ansel’s gruff voice before I saw him. I army crawled closer to the edge of the metal landing, my shirt rolling up and the cold metal stinging my skin. Downstairs, there was a blinding spotlight in the center of the floor. I recognized Ansel’s broad shoulders and freakishly tall figure in the center, his back turned towards me. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I noticed Demie and Liam as well, standing in the periphery, hidden in the darkness like hyenas waiting to descend on a fresh kill.
A cold chill ran down my spine. What the hell were they up to?
Then a muffled sound—low and guttural—echoed through the warehouse, followed by a terrible rattling sound. Every small hair on my body stood at attention, and my stomach knotted in fear.
“I’m not going to ask you again,” Ansel growled. He stepped away, giving me a view of who was making that terrible rattling noise. A goblin sat bound to a metal chair, a piece of duct tape placed directly over his mouth. He watched Ansel make a full rotation around his chair, taking slow, calculated steps like Ansel had all the time in the world. The goblin’s eyes were so wide, I could see the whites from all the way on my hiding spot on the landing. He stopped directly behind the goblin, leaning down to sneer in his ear. “Where is Gregor hiding?” The goblin screamed in pain as Ansel tore the piece of tape off his mouth.
“I-I don’t know,” the goblin cried once he caught his breath. Ansel’s features hardened into something dangerous. I hadn’t seen that look on his face before and it scared the hell out of me. This was his true self—the orc boss. He was the scariest thing I had ever seen, even with his schoolgirl French braids. The friendly orc act he had shown me up until this point was just that. An act.
And I had almost believed him.
Ansel rounded the chair, his steps faster this time. He moved as though I hadn't just cleaned and bandaged the gaping hole in his stomach. The goblin whined as Ansel’s large back covered my view once again. Ansel cocked his arm back and slapped the goblin across the face. Ansel grabbed the chair with his other hand before the goblin toppled over with the chair. The smack was so loud, it echoed through the warehouse, reverberating deep within my bones. Bile crept up my throat, threatening to make an appearance. But I swallowed it down, too afraid to move.
The warehouse was silent except for the goblin’s soft begging. “I don’t know where he is. I don’t know where he is.”
“We can do this all night,” Ansel said, interrupting his victim’s rambling. Ansel jerked his head to a small spot of blood on the floor. “But you only have so many teeth.”
My heart sunk deeper into my stomach. I couldn’t see it, but I knew there was a tooth in that blood spot.
“Even if I knew where Gregor was,” the goblin said, taking great effort to speak. His words sounded wet, raspy. “He can do much worse than knock out a few teeth. I’m much more afraid of him than I am of you.”
Ansel straightened slowly to his full height. When he spoke, I could hear the menacing smile in his voice. “Is that a challenge, mate?” Ansel took a step back, his attention never leaving the goblin. Ansel waved a hand towards Demie and Liam standing in the darkness. As if on cue, Demie stepped into the spotlight. Demie was different as well. He no longer had his innocent smile. He walked with swagger and a blood-thirsty expression on his face. Ansel wrapped his arm around his neck, pulling him into his body playfully.
