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Guilt struck me. I stuffed it down. I wanted to tell this man I’d had nothing to do with Carter’s death—that I hadn’t caused it.
The lump in my throat told me I was lying, and I knew it. Of course I was partly, mostly, to blame for getting Carter in that situation.
Still, raping me—alleviating his frustrations—wasn’t going to bring his son back.
Good luck telling him that, though.
We disappeared into the tree line, hidden by the canopies and bushy branches where no one could see us.
I resisted only passively, not bothering to try and overpower the angry older man. He was taller, broader, and stronger than me. And he was filled with hate.
For a moment, I wondered if I could talk him out of it. Try explaining things to him.
I realized he wouldn’t care, and it wouldn’t make a difference. He saw me as the enemy and wanted to take something precious from me after I had taken something precious from him.
In a way . . . it was understandable. Gruesome, despicable, and heartless, yet his anger made sense because of Carter’s death.
We came to a wide tree trunk and he pushed me up against it. The chain stretched between my wrists. I winced when my spine crunched into the sturdy trunk.
His hand wrapped around my neck and I gasped for breath. “I want you looking me in the eyes when I knock you down a peg and take what’s owed to me, you fucking bitch.”
My pulse spiked, terror raining down on me. I have to survive. I have to survive. I repeated the mantra over and over, hardly able to hear my own thoughts over the rushing heartbeat in my ears. The Merry Men aren’t coming. I made sure of it. This is all on me.
His grip tightened around my neck, cutting off my airway as he kept me shoved against the tree. I let out a choked, strained sound.
With his other hand, he fumbled around at his waist and pulled his cock out. Then he reached toward me and threw open my cloak, revealing my nakedness.
The shocked expression on his face at seeing me nude underneath the cloak made him bark a laugh. “Almost as if you expected this outcome, isn’t it? I suppose it’s your fate, vixen.”
I stayed silent, flaring my nostrils. I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to—his grip was too ironclad.
“I hope you wail like a siren while I plow into you,” he said. “Show everyone who owns you.”
He squeezed again, and I nearly passed out from the lack of air. My eyes rolled, yet I struggled and fought to remain conscious and present.
He moved forward, stroking his cock until it was hard, and then pressed his body against mine.
I reached up and wrapped my bound hands over his head, until the chain landed on the back of his neck, between his shoulders.
It drew us closer. His cock prodded against my belly. A wicked smile quirked his shaggy beard. “Ah. I knew you wanted it. That’s a good bitch.”
It looked like I was hugging him.
His focus left my throat, hand moving down as he tried to position his cock to thrust inside me.
My heart thundered in my chest. A sound pushed through my lips once my neck was freed. My shackled hands hung limp near his chin and beard.
I leaned in and whispered, “I’m sorry for what happened to Carter.”
He grunted, not accepting my apology. Head bowed, licking his lips as he tried to rape me.
“But I’m not sorry for this,” I finished.
His eyes slowly lifted to my face, wrinkles setting deep in his forehead—
And I twisted my arms, until they were in the shape of an X in front of his throat, wrists crossed.
The furrow deepened between his brow—
