Page 5 of Bound By Darkness

“Sit,” he ordered, a hand gesturing to the living room.

I took nimble steps behind him, my eyes constantly scanning for hidden weapons.

I took in the whole room as light brightened the plush velvet rugs. They looked like dark pools of blood against the wood flooring. My breath hitched at it… at the scene which plagued my mind so frequently. Of my parents and sister dead upon our rug, blood leaking out from the swords protruding from their chests.

Blinking the vivid imagery away, I glanced to my right as an oak desk appeared, a window illuminating the scattered papers.

The rest of the room accessorized itself with various gemstone figurines and vases painted in gold—a flash of luxury. Even the smallest oil lamp beside me rested on silk that, if sold, would fetch a much larger sum than my entire flesh.

“Sit.”

I scanned the four-panel window, the forest branches swaying with the summer breeze. It would have been lovely without the presence hovering behind me as I slumped onto the couch. It seemed wrong to sit on something so new and clean.

A fire blazed within the hearth, casting the room in an aura of orange to keep the nightly chill away.

He slumped beside me, his thumbs rubbing the tender spots above his brows. His hand pried the bottle from my fingers before he took a large swig, returning it to the glass table.

A hand at the base of my neck startled me as he leaned into my ear, his breath hot and reeking of ale. His elbows graced my shoulders, his build large and significantlyrounded from a life of luxury. Not a single speck of dirt rested on his tunic or face. Stubble grazed his plush jawline, wrinkles dotting his forehead from living half of his mortal lifespan, as did all the Fae due to the curse plaguing the land.

“Tell me, how do you keep your wits about you in a place as hellish as this?” His fingers twisted a strand of my amber hair.

I choked back bile as the warmth of his body pressed into mine.

He cleared his throat as he shifted, what little muscles he had tensing. “I prefer slaves with wit. The ones without backbones are such a bore, and die rather quickly.” His arm rested on my shoulders. “I have a proposition for you.”

I fixated on the fire, anything other than the proximity he forced upon me.

“Come back with me to my province. You’ll receive food, shelter, and much better clothes suiting someone of your… beauty.” He chuckled softly.

His eyes roamed over my face as I blinked back the statement. Beauty did not describe me. Years of turmoil and labor had turned beauty into a deep rust coating my exterior. My cheeks were hollow from years of malnourished treatment; freckles slapped over scars and nicks I’d accumulated from years of hard work. Once revered for their peculiarity, my green eyes were nothing but dull emeralds smothered in mud. No… no hiddenbeauty slithered beneath. I wasn’t even endowed with curves. Starvation had eaten those first.

“But not my freedom,” I whispered, brushing my mind past his comment.

He laughed. “What use is freedom if you are given everything you possibly need? I’m being generous. Of course, if you indulge inothernecessities,I could arrange outings befitting a lady.” His hand rested on my thigh as he gave it a squeeze, his thumb lazily tracing fabric.

My hands fisted my brown tunic as his hand moved. They were all the same. “I will take my punishment,” I said, hoping his hand remained where it rested.

His pupils dilated, nostrils flaring as he squeezed tight. “Did you believe you’d be given an option? Whether you answer or remain silent, the transfer has already been approved. As a dignified man, the least I can offer a lowly slave is the illusion of choice.”

His arm curled around my neck like a collar, his fingers resting above the dip of my collarbone.

“Why bring me here if you’d already decided my fate?” I breathed, the chains rattling as I shifted.

The man’s fingers pressed into the soft flesh of my throat; his pupils darkened with ambition and hunger as my air supply weakened. “Most slaves fall to their knees in gratefulness for removing them from their harsh living conditions.”

“I am not like most,” I rasped, his hand like iron.

His body shifted to hover over mine. “You are not. You are far more exciting.” He breathed, the smell of almonds intoxicating my lungs. “It will be a pleasure to break you—to watch you writhe beneath me.” A tongue darted out from his mouth as he breathed in the scent of me.

His lips touched my jaw, wetness permeating my dry skin as his hands fumbled with the hem of my shirt.

He... he waskissingmy skin.

Dread lent me its cloak, sinking its fingers into my chest with each advancement of his mouth. He was... he was going to defile me on this couch unless I?—

My eyes darted to the right as his beady eyes lingered on my flesh. There, resting on the table, the bottle sat perfectly upright.

My chained hands crept toward the armrest while he preoccupied himself with the scraps of fabric clinging to me. I had to keep him talking... keep him focused on me as my hands slowly encroached closer to the gleaming glass.

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