Page 42 of Brutally Mated
“Why was he looking at us like that?”
“A pretty young woman traveling in the company of three men is often considered to be someone of ill-repute,” Skor says.
“What does that mean?”
“There’s no need to explain that,” Krall interjects. “We have to be more careful. This is the third incident in as many days that could bring attention to us and possibly expose us. It’s not good enough.”
He sounds tense. Like he’s actually worried about these humans and the notion of them being angry at us. We haven’t done anything all that bad really. I think he needs to relax.
He stands up, his hand still to his neck from where I bit him.
“If you perform another act of magic, I will cane you,” he says in a tone that suggests I should be scared of that threat.
“Okay?” I shrug.
“Canes hurt, Tabby,” he says. “They hurt badly. And I will ensure you do the same. I have no time for this recklessness and lack of impulse control. We are putting ourselves in danger for no good reason, and we are going to be easily tracked.”
“So? Is someone looking for us?”
“It’s best not to be traceable if you can manage it,” he says. “We have our enemies, as do you.”
“I left all my enemies back in the mountains,” I say. “Who are yours?”
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
“Sounds like I do.”
“I am telling you that you are not to use magic again,” he says. “And you’re not to shift. And you’re not to assault random strangers because they annoy you.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just tell me what I can do? Or is that nothing?”
“You can do as you are told,” he growls. “That’s what you can do.”
Skor and Thorn are watching me wind Krall up with inscrutable expressions. I can’t tell if they’re annoyed at me, or enjoying the show.
“I was not born to do as a male tells me. I was born to do what feels correct, to follow my instincts, and to control the elements. You cannot tell me not to do magic. I breathe it.”
I hear something that sounds like a murmur of admiration from Skor. Of all these three, he understands what I am best. He knows that Krall is trying to bind the wind. It will not work.
Krall crosses the room swiftly and gathers me up, one arm around my waist, the other hand firmly curled in my hair. “You’re getting to be more and more mouthy,” he says. “And more and more trouble.”
“Try to punish me again on this train and I’ll scream,” I tell him. “I’ll scream and I’ll scream and they’ll come and they’ll make us all get off. I might do it anyway.”
I really think I am saying the smartest thing. I can’t keep the smugness out of my tone, or off my face. Krall doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest. The corners of his eyes crease as he narrows them at me, then holds out his hand silently. I don’t see what is put into it, but I feel it a moment later being dragged between my teeth as he spins me around and pulls a gag into my mouth, a strap of fabric that Skor must have been rolling up the whole time I was making statements.
“You want to scream? Go ahead,” he growls into my ear. “Let’s see how much noise you make now. And by the way? Shift again, and you’ll be silvered for the duration.”
I stiffen with fear. Silver is a shifter’s worse nightmare, a metal that burns and saps strength on contact. I have never actually experienced it, and I don’t want to. I’ve heard stories of wolves left in silver for years at a time. It’s said a silver collar can trap awolf in their animal state. Others say that it makes it impossible to shift.
He just threatened me with a fate worse than death. I reach up to my mouth to try to pull the gag free, but he has tied it behind my head. I squirm and wriggle, reaching back to try to get it off, but he grabs my arms, pulls them down to my sides, and spins me around.
“No,” he says firmly, looking down into my eyes. “You tested me, and now you are suffering the consequences.”
I hate him. I hope he can see that in my eyes. I hope he knows that he has no way of making me weak, and that he will never be able to take my magic from me. It comes from a place older and deeper and darker than he can begin to understand, and it will break him if he keeps interfering. I can feel the old spirits stirring inside me.
“You’re going to submit,” he says, riling me further. He’s just so certain that he can make me do what he wants me to do, and it’s not fair. He’s going to punish me again, and I don’t want to be punished. I’m willing to do almost anything to get out of this.
So I do something. Something they’ll all find very naughty and chaotic. This is their fault.
