Page 22 of Viking

Arie quits chewing and stares wide-eyed at the idiot box. I turn up the volume and set the clicker on the table.

“Eat. I’ve gotta go do shit. If that food is still sitting there when I get back, your ass is in trouble.”

She doesn’t even glance at me as I make a beeline for the door. I’m taking a huge fucking risk leaving her to roam my room. The windows are nailed shut, and I’m posting Meatball right outside my door, so if something goes down he’ll be able to intervene, but she can’t stay tied up in here forever and she might come to trust me enough to start talking if she’s not treated like a caged animal. Seems like she’s had enough of that for one lifetime.

I head to the door and take one last look at her. Her eyes are glued to the television, but she’s finally fucking eating, so I’d call that a win.

I don’t like leaving her alone like this, but it doesn’t feel right keeping Arie chained up like a dog, either. I’ve given her a little leash. I just hope she doesn’t choke herself with it.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Arie

Idon’t know how longI’ve sat here watching the images on the wall, but it has turned from day to night and still Viking is not back. I glance down at my wrists and the lack of cuffs for the first time in days, and I rise and stare at the door. In the clubhouse beyond, it’s quiet. Now would be a good time to leave, but I don’t have anywhere to go. If my people find me, they will execute me for the death of the Prophet. I have no one. Iknowno one but Calamity Jane and Viking.

My body is sore from sitting so long and though my throat still hurts, my stomach growls. It seems the little food I’ve had since the night I fled the island has finally caught up with me.

I’m ravenous and my legs yearn to stretch the way they would in the cage at home. They were big enough to walk around in, of course, to stretch or roll over in, or to sit at one end in the morning sun and move to the other side to seek the blessed shade in the height of summer, though no amount of moving would stave off winter’s bitter chill from our bones. It was the only time they permitted the Sisters to huddle together for comfort or warmth, and our numbers thinned every winter. Those long nights when the wind would howl through the trees, crying and calling as if it knew your name were the worst.

I shake off my reverie and take a tentative step toward the door. I’m just about to reach for the knob when it opens, and Viking stands on the threshold. Blood covers his face and scalp, his bare abdomen too, and his eyes are quicksilver—otherworldly. They shine with bloodlust and desire. I suck in a sharp breath and cover my mouth with my hand.

I expect him to say something, but he doesn’t utter a word. He just steps forward and I have no choice to scurry out of his way or he’d run right into me. I cower against the bed, terrified that this will be it. This is where he will take me, use me, hurt me, and I’m helpless to stop it.

He merely laughs without humor and strides into the bathroom where he slams the door behind him. I take a moment to collect myself, to swallow my heart back down from its lodgment inside my throat.

On shaking limbs, I stand, and then I glance at the door and close it, effectively locking myself in with a monster. I climb onto the bed and place my hands in my lap, ready for his shackles, because as terrifying as he may be, there are monsters far worse. I should know, I was raised by them.

---