Page 146 of The Firebrand
“Me neither. Zilch, zip, nada.”
****
LizetteLee yanked on the chain manacled to her abraded, bloody ankle. The other end connected to a post in the middle of the central room, giving her about ten feet of mobility. She could reach the edge of the kitchen on her right, the fireplace behind her, or the door on her left, which she guessed led to a bedroom.
She was uncertain how much time had passed since her arrival, at least a few weeks. Recently, she had begun marking the days with slashes on the wood floor.
After the giant man purchased her, he brought her to this cabin in the mountains, hidden in a thick forest with no neighbors in sight. The early autumn air outside had been crisp, cool. He had chained her, lighted the fireplace, set a blanket as well as food within reach, and left. Returning every few days, he restocked her supplies, emptied the extra-large chamber pot, and hustled off. By the time he revisited, her rations were low. The fireplace dead.
Once again, the embers were cold, her teeth chattering despite the blanket she clasped tight and the frayed rug under her. The stone walls, topped with a thatched roof, did nothing to keep away the chill. Her water pail was empty, and the food was gone. He was about to return.
The door rattled. She stopped fiddling with the chain, stiffened, and gripped the blanket tighter around the remnants of the summer suit she had worn since her kidnapping. Now it was torn and soiled.
The savage hulk, dirty braids flapping against his shoulders, entered with an armload of logs. Dumping them into the firebox opening, he lighted the kindling. When the flames burst to life, he brushed ashes off the knees of his worn jeans. She was instantly warmer.
With dark eyes fixed on her, he shuffled into the kitchen where he fell into a chair, plopped his elbows on the table, and cradled his head in oversized palms. A coal-burning stove, a sink, and a window were behind him. He remained still for so long, Lizette thought he had fallen asleep. She studied him, more afraid he would stay than leave again. Even with the cabin warmer, she clutched the blanket around her.
When the beast thundered his heavy fists onto the table, it shook. Lizette flinched at the loud noise. He pushed out of the chair, lumbered toward her, and stopped at her feet. He pounded his chest. “Spear.”
She scooted away, leaning against the post, twisting her neck up and up. “Lizette. Please let me go.”
“No.” He glared at her.
“Why am I here?”
“For me. I’m back to stay. Nobody knows you’re here. I’ve been watching.” He slapped the side of his head. “Stupid. I never should have paid for you. If the Firebrands find out, they will kill me. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”
Slap. Slap. Slap.
“I can give you money if you take me home.”
“No. I’m keeping you. First we eat. Then we fuck.”
Bile rose in her throat. She bit it down, along with the terror, making a promise to herself.
I will escape. I will not break. No matter what happens.
****
Chaythumped his dirty boots onto the table, de-stressing at the Shed, a couple growlers of Demon Brew to share with twofrerons.
With his fist around a mug, Brak adjusted the blades strapped to his chest, the sofa cushions sinking under his immense body. “What has your nads in a knot?”
“The ylve’s parental units are still nagging him about a mate,” said Tyr, the silver bar through his brow and the metal hoops in his ears glinting in the dim lights like fucking stars.
The three Firebrands had just returned from Darque, where they had toe-tagged a few gagans in the yetis’ Painted Rock Forest.
A curvy succubus, her nipples peeking over the top of a red bustier, strolled by. Her fingers trailed along Brak’s shoulders, but he waved her off.
The trouble with Chay’sfreronwas pheromones. The stuff leaked from his pores, making every pussy in the joint wet for him. But the big carnal demon couldn’t help it.
“Not in the mood for succubus?” asked Tyr.
“Nope. Had her last night.” Brak poured Chay his third brew. “This’ll cure ya. What’s wrong with the ylvish sweet-treat who was on your arm at Rein and Braelyn’s reception?”
The ylven Firebrand swallowed a few gulps of his drink. “There’s the prob. Anjeli is sweet, but I see me doing a female with more bite. I admit, she keeps the units off my back.”
“That’s a plus.” Brak slammed his empty down. “Okay. Blood spilled on Darque. Check. Two cold brews. Check. Dick like a rock in my pants. Check. Time to rut.” He wiggled his fingers at a vamp in a short red dress, her hair a tangle of dark curls. She came on a trot, fangs ready for action. “See ya.” Brak’s hand molded to her ass while they walked away.
