Page 15 of Retribution
Without warning, he grabbed her arm and pulled her from the corner, dragging her into the center of the cell. He pushed down on her shoulder.
“On your knees,human.”
She dropped to her knees as another tear escaped her eyes. She expected the beating to begin immediately, but he stepped back and she felt his dark gaze upon her. Her hair obscured her face as she lowered her head.
The only violence she’d ever endured was the one slap Michael had given her, and on the day she left him, when he’d grabbed her roughly and shaken her. She didn’t precisely know what to expect, but she knew it would hurt.
General Zamek started to circle her, his bootsteps echoing in the cell. Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain he could hear it. The room was cold, and she shivered as goosebumps rose on her arms.
She cast a mournful look at her destroyed shirt. Keeping warm in the cell would prove difficult without the long-sleeve shirt. She’d been ripped away from her life on Earth and the only possessions she’d had were the clothes on her back. The general knew that. Ruining her shirt was especially cruel.
She tensed when he paused behind her and trailed the leather strap over her bare back. Her stomach bottomed out. Any moment now, he might start whipping her.
When I make you bleed, I want to see it.
This specific threat made her cold all over.
“Are you frightened?” he asked, and the sudden question surprised her.
“Yes, General,” she said, barely a whisper.
“Good. I imagine Shessema was terrified when your husband attacked her.”
He continued trailing the leather across her back and she shuddered. He bent down and reached for her hair, drawing it over her shoulder, better exposing her back for the lash. His fingers brushed over her flesh, eliciting more goosebumps. She was terrified of him but also strangely drawn to him in a way she didn’t quite understand. He was pure power, a magnetic force from which she couldn’t seem to extract herself.
She closed her eyes and tried to distance herself from him, tried to allow her mind to drift away from the present. But his enticing masculine scent and the warmth radiating off his huge, muscular body kept her grounded in the moment.
He rose to his feet and brought the strap down across her back.
The pain. Oh, God, the pain.
She fell forward on her hands, gasping at the agonizing sting. A sob erupted from her throat. He knelt before her and grasped her chin, forcing her gaze to his.
“Did that hurt?” he asked, his question surprising her again. He searched her eyes.
“Y-yes,” she replied in a shaky voice. Of course it hurt. The sting hadn’t yet faded and she half wondered if he’d broken the skin.
“Good. Your husband hurt Shessema very badly.”
“What would your wife think if she could see you now?” Layla asked, even though a voice in the back of her head whispered that she ought to remain silent. Risking his fury at this moment wasn’t smart. “What would your wife think of you beating an innocent woman?”
He snarled and grasped her hair, giving her head a sharp jerk. “Don’t presume to know what my wife would think. She’s not here. She’s gone and she’s never coming back.” A sorrowful look entered his eyes.
“Did you love her?” What the fuck was she doing? Why had this question slipped out?
A storm gathered in the general’s black eyes. He tightened his grip on her hair and gave her another shake. “What business is it of yours, human, whether or not I loved Shessema? She was my wife. We should have spent the rest of our lives together. We should have had children and grown old together. Your husband took away her life and mine as well.”
“I’m so sorry,” Layla said. “I’m shocked and saddened by what Michael did to your wife. I wish I could go back in time and stop him. But hurting me won’t bring her back.”
He released her hair and grasped her chin, causing her jaw to ache. “You were probably in league with your husband. You probably had full knowledge of his involvement with the human rebels. I know hurting you won’t bring Shessema back, but it’s what you deserve.”
Anger sparked inside her. “You want the truth?” she asked in a desperate but biting tone. “Yes, yes I suspected Michael might be involved with the rebels, but I didn’t know for certain. When I questioned him about it, he slapped me and called me a bitch and told me to mind my own business.
“On the day he killed your wife, I left him because he’d gotten violent again. I was afraid of him, especially because he kept blaming me for the war and his son’s death. He killed Shessema because the Kall killed his son during the war. And now you intend to kill me—eventually—because he killed your wife. Where does it end? Where does the killing and the fucking misguided vengeance end?”
She expected him to shake her again or resume whipping her, but he stared at her instead, his gaze entirely unreadable. She wished she knew what he was thinking. She wished she knew the right words that would still his hand and make him understand the wrongness of his actions.
But was there any way to reason with a stubborn Kall warrior who was grieving the loss of a wife he’d loved? She was starting to think not.
