Between Tides Thunder(83)

The red of rage seeps into my vision, even as fear coats my tongue.

He will not break me. I’m the princess of fucking Tundrayn.

I straighten my spine. Then, I spit right in his ugly face.

Sulon freezes.

The men stare in shock.

Calmly, too calmly, Sulon wipes the spit from his cheek.

Then, he backhands me.

A sharp crack splinters the silence as my head flings to the side. The coppery tang of blood explodes across my tongue. The sheer force of the blow knocks me off my feet. I hit the ground hard.

Blood trickles from my mouth, dripping down my neck. Jagged rocks shred through my leggings, the skin of my knees, as I crawl away, but rough hands fist in my hair, yanking me back. Sharp needles of pain radiate through my scalp. A pained yelp claws up my throat, but I press my lips together, caging in the sound.

I refuse to give him that satisfaction.

Sulon hauls me to my feet again, this time holding me against his body—it’s the only thing that keeps me from falling over.

The world tilts.

My head is swimming.

His breath is hot against my face, rough fingers gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“Beg me to stop, and I’ll consider it,” he whispers against my lips.

He’s lying. I know he won’t stop. He’s just a sadistic prick who wants to hear me plead.

“Stubborn little bitch,” he says when I don’t respond, almost tenderly. “Don’t worry. I’ll make you beg before the night is over.” His hand clamps around my throat, fingers digging in like an iron cuff. Pressure builds fast—too fast—until my eyes are wide and panicked.

I can’t breathe. His grip shackles my throat. My bound fists hammer at his chest, his arms, his side—wild and desperate strikes that do absolutely nothing. He doesn’t flinch. It’s like hitting a mountain.

Still, I fight.

Still, he squeezes.

My lungs burn. My vision blurs. Black dots flicker like ashy snow. My knees buckle, and Sulon forces me down until I’m kneeling before him. His grip eases around my neck, and I finally suck in sharp, frantic lungfuls of air.

The soldier who tried to feed me … I try to catch his gaze, but he stares at his boots. Tidescursed coward.

“See? Not so bad when you listen, hmm?” He pats my cheek sharply. Tidesdamned bastard. I launch myself at him with a garbled cry.

Sulon growls.

There’s a low rumbling.

Not in the sky—but in the earth.

Thick, gnarled roots emerge from the ground, coiling around my ankles, trapping me in place. I watch in muted horror as another set of roots erupts and coils around my wrists like writhing brown snakes.

I’m utterly at his mercy. If I survive this, I’ll haunt Zev until his last breath.

The other soldiers watch in silence—some with concern, others with leering gazes like they’re waiting their turn.

Panic claws at my chest, sharp as the thorns piercing my flesh.

“Enough playing, Tundrayni bitch,” Sulon snarls, unbuckling his belt.

Tides, let me survive this.

Let me live long enough to kill them all.





CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO




THE JINGLING OF HIS belt buckle cuts through my resolve like a knife. This is really happening. Tides, he’s going to— He shoves his pants down over his hips.

Everything falls quiet—my heartbeat, the camp. Even the wind.

Bile rises in my throat.

I refuse to look at him.

He doesn’t like that.

My scalp burns when he fists my hair in his meaty hand, wrenching my head back. Hot tears prick my eyes, blurring my vision, dripping down my cheeks. They mingle with the blood coating my face from my bruised nose and split lip.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful, Princess,” he whispers, jabbing a rough thumb into my lower lip until fresh blood gushes out. His large hands grope me, squeezing every part of me he can reach.

I can’t contain the whimper that escapes me, can’t cage it inside with my fury. Fresh tears fall from my eyes, hatred and rage and pure terror splintering my heart into pieces.

He straightens, angling himself toward my face. He forces two fingers between my lips, prying my jaw open. I try to bite down as hard as I can, but he’s too strong. My bleeding mouth is stretched wide, and still he bears down harder— The air shifts.

I can sense it, like an electric charge that makes every hair on my body stand at attention.

A distant rumbling sounds—this time in the sky—and Sulon freezes. He yanks his hand from my mouth and pulls up his trousers.

But he’s too late.

Heavy footsteps thunder closer.

“What the fuck are you doing to my wife?!” Zev roars, emerging through the trees. His face is cut from stone, a wrathful god. Cold fury blazes in his eyes, his muscles tight with tension.

“I… sire, I—”

Zev raises a hand. All six men freeze, their bodies unnaturally still.

I hold my breath.

When I release it, the men begin to jerk, stiff and erratic. The stench of burning metal permeates my nostrils. Their screams cut off like a snapped wire—soundless and sudden.

Daak. The vision of his body writhing the same way batters my mind.

A chorus of heavy thuds echoes as the men drop to the ground one by one, but it’s muffled over the sound of my wails.