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Ezra takes my chin in his hand and looks me in the eyes. “You’re mine to do with as I please until the sun rises, sweetheart. Not my fault you weren’t more articulate in the details of our arrangement.”
Without my permission, Ezra pulls my mouth to his, and the restraint I have left snaps. I arch out of his hold and slap him across the face. Ruse or not, how he is treating me is not okay.
“Whatever this is… I’m done,” I tell him, hoping he’ll agree and we can leave. He promised he’d be my protector tonight. The huntsman in the corner ready to save me from the big bad wolf, if I needed him. I never thought I’d need to be protected from my best friend.
"For God's sake, Ezra, shut the girl up," one of the men grumbles.
I stand, and Ezra grabs me by the hair and pulls me backward. I lose my balance and end up sprawled across the floor, my head in his lap, looking up at him.
Tears I refuse to shed well in my eyes. I'm not physically hurt, but the pain I feel is as real as if he’d cut me open. My heart is bleeding all over the floor for everyone to see, and what makes it worse is the small voice in my mind urges me to go to him. I hate the guilt I feel and can't understand why it's there.
“You leave when I say you leave.” Ezra releases my hair to grab three coins from the center of the table. The dealer, his presumed Sergeant Graves, lifts a bushy eyebrow but doesn't say anything as they’re tossed at me. Not my feet or the wooden floor beneath me, but at me, and Ezra makes it a point to hit me with at least one of them. "Make yourself useful and get us a round of beers."
I dig the coin that falls between my breasts out and grab the others off the floor. I pick myself up and throw them back at Ezra as hard as I can. They bounce off his chest, all but one landing at his feet. "Get your own damn beers, and don’t even think about returning to the inn tonight.”
Ezra’s eyes narrow and the rage I see in them rivals the night his sister came to the manor beaten and bloodied. I’d never seen him as angry as he was that night. Until now. ”What did you say?"
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you couldn’t hear me. Let me try again. Fuck you, Ezra. I am not your wife nor your woman for the night. You can't treat me this way." I realize the moment the words come out of my mouth that my plans to be an obedient puppet whose sole purpose is to please a man is out the door.
If Ezra was right, and the dealer at our table is Graves, I’ve blown mycover, but my pride is worth so much more than a poorly executed revenge plan, especially when I'm being degraded.
"You ungrateful wench.” Ezra stands, and his chair slides against the floor with a scratching sound.
His movements toward me are slow, almost predatory, and for the first time in my life, I notice how large my friend is. He towers over me in height, but it's his broad frame, strengthened by years of labor, that’s most intimidating. It would take next to nothing for him to overpower me.
I've never been afraid of what Ezra could do to me. I’ve trusted him, but tonight I don't know my friend. I don't know if this is all for show or if he's unearthed a part of himself I've yet to meet, which scares me.
"Ezra," I warn, taking a step back, but he follows me.
We dance this dance, one step and then another, until there’s nowhere left to go. He backs me into a pillar, and I curse myself for allowing myself to be caged.
I look into Ezra's honeycomb eyes, another warning on the tip of my tongue, but it dies the moment I meet his gaze. His beautiful browns are gone. Swallowed by the onyx pools that are his pupils.
I touch Ezra's cheek, inching closer, noticing the thin red lines that streak the whites of his eyes and how unnaturally warm he's gotten. Heat radiates off him like a furnace, melting the air around us.
“Ezra.” I press the back of my hand to his cheek. It's clammy and as hot as fire. “Are you okay?”
Ezra reaches up and grabs my throat. I’m so shocked that I let him. I stand there and do nothing as his long, thick fingers wrap around and squeeze until he steals the air from my lungs.
Against everything I know and have trained for, I panic. I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that Ezra, my Ezra, has gone feral. I pull at his thumb and try to pry his hand away, but his fingers only press deeper.
"Ezra," I plead. I should do something. Kick him. Punch him. Anything useful, but there’s a disconnect between what I want my body to do and what it does.
My eyes water as the room becomes a haze of colors surrounding Ezra's face. He brings his other hand to my throat, and my pulse races as he chokes me harder.
I slam my arms down and hit his forearms, hoping it will set me free.Ezra’s grip loosens just enough for me to catch a ragged breath, but his hands are still around my neck. He's relentless, mumbling nonsense.
My lungs burn, desperate for more air. I try to hit Ezra again, but he's ready this time with a firmer grip, and I can't shake him, even a little. I swing my legs, hoping to hit him in that sensitive spot that will bring him to his knees, but he’s got me pinned to where I can barely move.
Spots of yellow and black dot the room. I don't have much longer. My brain needs fresh air, soon, or it will shut me out.
I reach for my magic, hoping to find a single spark of fire that will shock Ezra and make him set me free. I call to it, willing my hands to tingle. I would take anything that can create even the slightest distance between us and shake his hold, but my magic doesn't respond.
Ezra's face blurs as darkness seeps into my vision. It spreads from the room’s outer edges, like smoke in the night, until it's all I can see. I recognize that I'm going to pass out soon and, if Ezra doesn't let me go, maybe even die.
Again.
My face tingles with the same little pricks my foot gets when it falls asleep. That sensation climbs my cheeks until I can't feel anything else. I don't know if my hands are still fighting or if they've given up. I don't know anything because my thoughts don't connect with anything beyond the darkness and the tingling. If not for the small pinhole-sized stream of light, I'd wonder if this is what unconsciousness feels like, a disconnect to the world around me while having enough awareness to know that I'm not where I belong.
