Page 3 of The Brute and the Blade

She snarls up at me, baring her teeth, and something hot and hungry coils in my belly. This close, I can see the flush of exertion on her cheeks, the way her chest heaves with each panting breath. She's magnificent, a wild creature backed into a corner but refusing to cower.

We trade blows, our deadly dance carrying us away from the main press of battle. She's quick and clever, ducking and weaving, using her smaller size to her advantage. But I am relentless, a mountain of muscle and determination, and I can see her tiring, her steps beginning to falter.

A sudden opening and I seize it, my axe knocking her blade from her hand to land in the churned mud a few feet away. She lunges for it but I am faster, snagging her around the waist and wrenching her back against my chest. She cries out as I wrench her arm up behind her back, my other hand gripping her throat.

"Yield," I growl in her ear, my blood pounding with the thrill of victory. "Or I'll rip your arms off."

She goes still, her slender body taut as a drawn bowstring in my grasp. I can feel the frantic pounding of her heart, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. For a moment I think she'll keep fighting, and a dark part of me almost hopes she does. I want to feel her struggle, to tame that fiery defiance and make her submit.

But then, to my surprise, she goes limp, the fight draining out of her. "I yield," she grits out, the words sounding like they're being dragged from her throat.

I feel a flicker of disappointment, but it's quickly subsumed by a sense of satisfaction. I have her now. The Red Blade, scourge of my people, helpless in my grasp.

"Smart choice, little blade," I rumble, hefting her over my shoulder like a sack of grain. She makes an indignant noise, squirming in my grip, but I merely tighten my hold. "Save your strength. You'll need it where we're going."

I stride off the battlefield, my prize secure. Around me, my warriors are mopping up the remaining human forces, their victorious roars filling the air. But my mind is already elsewhere, racing ahead to the stronghold and the reception that awaits me.

I can picture it now, the looks of astonishment and awe on the faces of my clan as I march into the great hall with the Red Blade herself slung over my shoulder. They'll hail me as a hero, the warlord who single-handedly captured our greatest enemy. My status, already formidable, will be beyond question.

But it's more than that. As I climb the winding path into the mountains, the human girl a warm, wiggling weight against me, I find my thoughts turning in an unfamiliar direction. There's a strange tugging in my chest, an almost physical pull towards the fierce creature in my arms.

I want to understand her, this flame-haired warrior who fights with such passion and skill. I want to crack open that hard shell of defiance and see what lies beneath. Will she tremble and weep when stripped of her blade and armor? Will she beg for mercy, for her life?

Somehow, I doubt it. There's a core of steel in this one, a strength that goes beyond mere fighting prowess. Taming her, I suspect, will be a challenge unlike any I've faced before.

The thought sends a dark thrill through me, and I tighten my grip on her thigh, feeling the flex of strong muscle beneath my palm. She stiffens and hisses like an angry cat, renewing her struggles.

"Settle down," I warn, giving her a little squeeze. "Or I'll tie you up and gag you. Don't think I won't."

She goes still, but I can practically feel the waves of fury and hatred radiating off her. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she spits, her voice dripping venom. "Having me helpless and at your mercy? Seems fitting for a brute like you."

I chuckle, amused by her fire even as a part of me longs to quench it, to make her soft and pliant beneath me. "Careful, little blade. Keep talking like that and I might start to think you want me to tie you up."

I can feel the heat of her blush even through my armor. I grin, enjoying her outraged spluttering. There's something deeply satisfying about getting under her skin, about provoking reactions she clearly doesn't want to have.

"In your dreams, monster," she finally manages, her voice thick with loathing.

"Every night," I agree amiably. "But for now, how about you sit tight and enjoy the ride? We've got a long way to go."

She lapses into seething silence, the occasional jerk and wriggle the only sign of her continued defiance. I ignore it, my mind already spinning ahead, plotting and planning.

I need to handle this carefully. The girl is valuable, not just as a prize of war but as a potential weapon. Properly handled, she could be the key to bringing the human kingdoms to their knees once and for all.

But it will take finesse and strategy, not just brute force. I'll need to break her, yes, but carefully, skillfully. Bending her to my will, rather than shattering her outright.

The thought brings a slow smile to my face. Oh yes, this will be a challenge to savor. And when I'm done, when I've reshaped her in my image, she'll be a sight to behold. My Red Blade, fierce and loyal, a wildfire tamed to my hand.

The stronghold looms ahead, the great gates swinging open at my approach. I stride through, my prize still secure on my shoulder, and feel a swell of vicious pride at the looks of awe and envy on the faces of my clan.

Let them stare. Let them whisper and wonder. They'll see soon enough what their warlord is capable of.

I carry the girl deep into the heart of the mountain, down to the cells carved into the living rock. She's gone still and silent, either unconscious or feigning it, her body limp and unresisting.

Gently, almost tenderly, I lower her to the rough pallet in the corner of the cell. She looks so small and fragile lying there, her armor scuffed and dented, her hair a wild tangle around her face. But I know better than to be fooled by appearances. This one is no fainting flower, no simpering damsel.

She's a blade, sharp and deadly. And she's mine now, to hone and wield as I see fit.

I brush a strand of hair back from her face, my fingers lingering on the smooth skin of her cheek. She stirs slightly, a frown marring her brow, but doesn't wake.

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