Page 24 of Claimed By the Fae Lord

I was alone, no Lorne in sight. I wondered if he'd made it back to Thornewood, if he'd had enough energy to get there.

If he was even alive.

Guilt, that heavy burden, tried to squeeze my chest. I pushed it back. I could return to practicing self-recrimination later. I had things to do first.

The door burst open and I jumped to my stockinged feet. In sauntered two males, one tall and broad, the other shorter but no less menacing.

Their eyes, as cruel and calculating as they'd been when we scuffled in the cottage, ran over my body.

I was dressed in the blood stained clothing I'd worn to bed. Some spots dry and crusted to my skin, a handful still wet from the continuing ooze of blood.

The one with the brutish, imposing frame leered at me with lewd interest. His buggy, bluish eyes reminded me of the tree frogs that lived in Ephandor.

"The little frostling is awake," he sneered, circling me with slow, prowling steps before dropping a pair of boots–my boots–at my feet.

How considerate.

"You'll fetch a nice price."

I ignored his unsettling statement, stepping into my comfortable shoes. I didn't plan to be around long enough for whatever they had planned. I studiously kept my eyes off the open door behind the other male.

"You're not even going to introduce yourself before making threats?" I asked, shifting to make sure I kept him in my field of vision.

He laughed.

"I'm Tabor," the other male, smarmy with greasy brown hair, told me. "That's Llew. Don't piss him off. You won't like what happens."

Ice crackled in my hands, then sputtered to nothing. I tried again.

Tabor shook his head. "The cuffs will only drain you faster."

Cuffs? I pulled up the sleeves of my shirt, glaring at manacles. Though a good three inches wide, they weren't very thick. Not that it mattered. They were made of iron. If my skin hadn't been shredded in so many places, I would have noticed them.

Llew, who smelled like he hadn't bathed in a week, grabbed my forearm, lifting my arm and waving my hand and wrist in front of my face.

"No magic for you," he taunted. "But go ahead and try. I like it when females fight."

I bared my teeth in an icy smile, my heart beating in time with my fury.

"I don't need magic," I hissed, launching myself at him.

My fist connected solidly with his jaw and he grunted in surprise. But his shock swiftly turned to rage. His fist smashed directly into the long deep gash on my side and I folded in half. Blood poured from the wound.

It was deeper than I believed.

Llew lunged forward and I punched out, aiming for his dick. His hips twisted and the blow landed on his thigh just as his meaty fist came down on my neck, knocking me to grimy floorboards.

"You'll learn your place, frost nymph," he growled, kicking viciously at my prone form.

I curled into myself, agony ripping through my body, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream. Not that I could, having had the wind knocked from me.

Llew made to kick me again and Tabor grabbed his arm, halting the assault. "Enough. We need to be on our way."

Llew fumed but backed away, wiping his messy burgundy hair off his face and glowering down at me. I panted for breath, biting back the pain.

Broken ribs, at least two. Internal bleeding, likely. But I was alive. And while I lived, I would fight.

As I eased myself to my hands and knees, I saw a pair of fashionable soft beige boots enter behind my captors, expensive and out of place here.

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