Page 108 of Forcing Fate

“You little whore. You made me wait this long? Six months?! Six long months?”

Victyr spat in my face and backhanded me, wrenching my head to the side. He grabbed my hair and slammed my head back again. As the stars burst, dimming my vision, panic seared my thoughts.

“You just walked around, taunting me. You wore your men’s trousers, teasing me.” His lip curled as his sharp gaze traveled over my body. “You wanted me to come for you. Didn’t she?” He smiled over his shoulder for support and his goons jeered as expected.

“I knew you’d put up a fight, too. Deep down, a pretty thing like you just wants to be dominated.” His fingers dug into my cheeks. “You’d fight me and demand I take control. So I am.”

He leaned in and smashed his lips to mine. A whimper squeezed from my throat as I used every ounce of willpower to move—just a fraction, anything—but it was no use. Terror pried my eyes wide open as he moved his lips on mine. When he pulled back, blood stained his lip. Had he bitten me? Or was that from the blow he landed moments ago?

My pulse raced—this wasn’t happening. Someone had to come. If no one found me soon, they’d do things that would scar me forever. I tried with all my might to scream, to wail for help, but all that escaped was a strangled moan.

“See boys? What did I tell you? She likes it!” Victyr said triumphantly.

Would Willhelm spot my tracks in the darkening night? How long would it take before worry prompted him to come looking?

Victyr stepped closer, bracing a small knife against the neckline of my tunic.

I clamped my eyes shut, and my breaths came in terrified gasps.

“Look at me!”

He gripped my hair, slamming my head against the wall again. The world faded for a moment before he came back to light.

“This is your fault! You watch what you made me do!”

This was my fault? Hadn’t I heard that before? My fault?

How? How was this my fault?

General Rafe’s words echoed in my mind.

‘This was your fault!’

‘I won’t save you.’

A rogue tear slipped out of my eye and trailed down my cheek.

“Oh look! She wants it so bad, she’s crying.” Laughter followed Victyr’s claim. He jerked the knife through my tunic. “Just to get it started,” he said with a wink, before tearing the tunic wide open.

Physically, I felt nothing as I was bared to the men. My chest was still bound, but the lust in their eyes cut deep. My thoughts screamed, begged for help that I couldn’t voice.

He snickered, yanking my necklace free. “Oh look, our kitten has claws. Too bad she can’t use them,” he jeered, tossing it into the snow.

Victyr cupped my breast over the fabric and I envisioned a thousand ways I wanted to hurt him.

“I knew it.” His tone lowered with a husky edge. “I knew you started to bind them. Hiding them from us. Shame.”

Another flick of the knife and the pressure of my chest-wrap fell away, exposing me for everyone to see.

Acid scorched the back of my mouth. I couldn’t puke, could barely breathe. I was stranded there—helpless.

No one was coming for me.

Someone whistled low—all eyes plastered to my chest.

“More!” the man holding my right arm grunted.

“Only a little.” Victyr sneered. “Then I’m playing. You’ll have your turn.”

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