Page 7 of The Queen's Serpent

I start to climb down without another word to my men, knowing that my orders will be immediately obeyed, or they will be receiving a bullet to their brains. As I reach the last rung on the ladder, my eyes trail over the interior of the hole I’ve had her restrained in. The heat is more oppressive and stifling downhere in the hole. The smell of stale leaves, sweat, dirt, and rotting vegetation accosts my senses, and has me wrinkling my nose.

Fuck, maybe this was a terrible idea; I shouldn’t have left her down here so many days.

I slowly move away from the ladder and closer to her, anticipating her attack, but she doesn’t stir or even acknowledge my presence. Her body is so still, and her beautiful blue eyes are unfocused, staring in front of her as if she has completely shut down, and her mind has escaped the predicament she is in.

My eyes trace over her porcelain skin covered in bug bites, welts, and a red, angry-looking heat rash. Her beautiful face is swollen and even paler than usual. Her stunning sapphire eyes are lifeless and dull; the deep purple shadows underneath them tell me she hasn’t slept in days. Her beautiful rose-colored lips are all dry, chapped, and bleeding from dehydration, no doubt, and her biting on them.

She’s a mess. Fuck, what have I done?

I crouch down and allow my hand to reach out, trailing over the crown of her thick hair. The strands are sweat-slickened, greasy, and a tangled mess. She doesn’t stir at my touch, her eyes never flickering from the place she’s staring at, lost in her own mind.

The desire to grab a fistful, and demand that she stare at me and obey me fills me, but I force myself to remain gentle with her. She has already been through so much in a short period of time.

“Issy…” I call out softly, wanting her to look at me but afraid of frightening her further. My heart thuds painfully in my chest, and bile rises at the back of my throat.

Nothing.I get absolutely no reaction to calling her name or to my touch. There is not even a flicker of recognition in her features, or a response in her body to my contact.Dammit.Ican’t have broken her. I refuse even to consider it. She’s stronger than this; she has to be.

I lower myself to my knees until I’m entirely in front of her, blocking her sightline of the wall she is staring at. I reach out and allow my trembling fingers to run over her forehead, and down the side of her face. My fingertips grace her soft, dirty skin, and a tinge of electricity races back up my arm. My body craves her, even like this, even completely broken. I will always want myPrincesa.

Real fear is now filling me with the knowledge that I may have genuinely broken her, that her mind might have fractured while confined, all alone in this dark hole in the ground. A prison of my own making, one that I firmly believed limiting her to would get me what I wanted.Her.

I reach forward and grab both her forearms, pulling her towards me and into my arms, where I cradle her slick and feverish skin against my own.Fuck, is she burning up?She doesn’t fight my hold, and instead goes limp in my grasp. I stand up with her in my arms, her weight not doing anything to stop me from regaining my feet, and move towards the ladder.

It will be tricky getting her out of here. I didn’t really count on her being incapacitated when I released her from captivity. I also didn’t count on leaving her stubborn ass in that hole for four fucking days. I brace her against my body, and she goes limp like a rag doll as I throw her over one of my shoulders in a fireman’s hold. Her head and upper body hang down my back, bouncing with my movements, as I grasp onto the rope ladder and commence climbing.

I grit my teeth, and a growl leaves my lips as I sway on the ladder. Her light body shifting against my back muscles, and a tiny whimper escaping her lips, as her head bangs against my lower back. When I’m closer to the top, I call out to Santiago. I’m not afraid of dropping her, but I want her covered, the minuteshe’s out of the hole. I don’t want my men’s eyes on her in this vulnerable state, a state that I have fucking caused with my angry, psychotic actions.

Regret swims inside my blood, an emotion I’m not accustomed to feeling for anything or anyone, but right now, it’s suffocating me. I did this; I caused the fragile creature in my arms to suffer, all for the sake of my fucking pride, and my need to control her every waking moment. I’m a fucking monster.

“Santiago, grab her and wrap her,” I grunt through my teeth, knowing that he has to touch her feverish skin to do it. We reach the top of the hole, and Santiago pulls her away from me, cradling her body in the sheet like that of a small, wounded animal he was tending to. His disapproval is evident on his age-lined face, as his eyes trace over Issy’s features.

Rage and jealousy fill my body as I reach forward and take her from his grasp.MINE!Even in her broken and fragile state, she is mine. I cannot release her. Even after witnessing the damage I’ve already caused her, I know I will never let her go.

“Jefe, she needs the medic. She’snobuena.“ The sound of desperation in his voice instantly irritates me. Does he think I can’t fucking see with my own two eyes that she’s not alright?

I take her into my arms, her slight weight not even causing my muscles to strain, as my six-foot-two frame towers over the man who held her. What would I do if he had refused to release her to me?

Dead, he would be dead before he took his next breath.I take my precious captive and stroll quickly back inside the compound. “Get the fucking medic.”

Fuck, let’s hope I haven’t completely destroyed the woman I crave more than anything.We should release her, and send her back to her family,the rational side of my brain argues, but my hackles rise with just the thought.

Even though I know that is the right thing to do, after everything I’ve already put her through, I know I will never follow through with it. I can’t let her go, not now, not ever.

Chapter five

Issy

“Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.”

George R. R. Martin, A Game Of Thrones

Warm air moves over my irritated and feverish skin, as my head is turned from side to side, and my sweaty strands are shifted away from my neck. My eyes close of their own volition, wanting to avoid looking at anything and anyone. I can feel strong, rough hands on my body, lifting my limbs, maneuvering me this way and that way, so that someone can wash me with a wet cloth. I swallow the pained but relieved moan that tries to leave my lips.Shhh, now try not to show your weakness; it will be used against you.

The feeling of the abrasive material, and cold water, across the surface of my inflamed skin is both a soothing balm and an irritation. Why can’t they just leave me alone? Why can’t they let me die, so all of this could be over quickly? Of course,hewouldn’t allow me even that small mercy.Unhinged bastard.

“Diego, sir, you need to step back so that I can examine her,” a soft, hesitant voice calls out.

The grip on my arm tightens momentarily, causing me to have to bite the inside of my cheek and stiffen my limbs, before a cursed-filled grumble rents the air and the cloth is moved away from my body. My arm is lifted, and pressure is placed on my wrist. Then, a cold object is pressed against my chest, a vicious animalistic growl loud in the air accompanying its touch.

---