Page 105 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

When I didn’t respond, he began thumbing through the keys until he stopped on one and moved toward the door. “My quarters are nicer than Lucien’s, you know. He never could appreciate the finer things in life. But I bet you do, don’t you, pet?”

“I am not your pet.”

“Not yet.” The door unlocked with a sickening click.

My blood tingled in my veins as I pushed to my feet against the wall, letting my body go loose and languid like the wrestlers who performed during the growing season games in Sorrena.

He flung the door wide and gestured to the opening he half-occupied. “This is your way out, right here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Never. Orson wouldn’t have me easily. I’d claw out his eyes, gouge grooves in his armor with my bare fingers—anything to keep his lecherous hands off me.

“You spread those pretty legs for Lucien but not for me?”

These words hit me worse than a slap in the face and had me rocking back on my heels. Would he have told this monster such intimate details?

Orson rushed forward without warning and shoved me against the wall. A sharp rock dug into my back, eliciting a hiss of pain.

“Come on. Be a good little pet.”

I kicked at his legs and higher, earning bruises and pain for myself and no more than a whisper of a groan from the brute pinning my shoulders into the stone. My heart raced faster than a horse at full gallop.

With one hand, he yanked off his helm, revealing a face comelier than I expected but tainted by the wretchedness within. No amount of fair features could compensate for the twisted smirk, sick leer, or putrid soul that lay below the surface.

Stinking breath wafted across my face as I clawed ineffectually toward his eyes. The bones in my hand cried out as he crushed them to the wall near my head, grunting his frustration as his body pressed against mine.

But my distraction worked.

I slid my other hand down his side, just far enough to reach the dagger belted around his waist that he’d neglected to remove.

Aurora, Goddess of Dawn, keep my aim true.

In a rush, I pulled the knife and slid the tip up, letting it scrape against his armor until it found a narrow join and slid home.

“Bitch!”

The back of his hand slammed into my cheek. My scream split the air. A myriad of stars and colors swarmed my vision. Breath left me as my body crashed onto the stone floor. Lances of pain radiated up my shoulder, my back, my head.

“You’ll pay,” he fumed.

The air around me heated in a rush. Flames licked out from his palm, brighter than the dawn as they roared toward me. I screeched and raised an arm to shield my face—a pitiful defense. Fire licked at me in small lashes of pain but did not catch. My hair did not char to ash, nor did my skin blacken to coals. Blood trailed down Orson’s side as I stared him down through a wall of rushing orange and yellow.

“Impossible.”

His image shifted into a snarl as he spied the bangle upon my upper arm. Flame receded in a heartbeat. Orson grabbed the metal and pulled. The clasp scraped across my skin as he relieved me of Lucien’s gift and hurled it behind him.

The clatter and scrape of the bracelet bounding along the stones sealed my fate. Orson stepped back, his palm raised, ready to deliver his flames. I braced for fire. For death, or worse, shutting my eyes against the inevitable fate.

“What? How?” he muttered.

I cracked open my eyes. Instead of flames, a wall of thick tree trunks greeted me, their rough bark and leafy limbs blocking all view of the man beyond. Loamy soil cleansed the air, replacing the acrid, burnt scent of moments ago. My body reclined on leaf-strewn soil instead of stone.

Lucien.

My chin wobbled. Who else could make a forest appear from nowhere?

Metal screeched. Something crashed against and rattled the bars hidden from my view.

“If you’ve harmed her…”

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