Page 198 of Hunting Pretty

Through gray-edged vision, Cormac looked back at me with an exaggerated pout.

Cormac pulled his fingers from me and let go of my neck. “Shit. They’re early.”

I sagged against my chains, sobbing with relief. But I knew my reprieve would only be short-lived.

I was about to be delivered to someonemuchworse than Cormac.

AVA

Over the rushing blood in my ears, I barely made out the crunch of leaves outside, the unmistakable sound of a single set of footsteps approaching the building. Each step was slow, deliberate, like whoever was coming knew they didn’t need to rush.

They owned this moment.

Cormac stumbled back from me, his eyes wide, fear etched into every line of his face.

“The High Lord is here,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

I’d never seen him like this before—utterly terrified.

Who was this High Lord?

Whoever he was, Cormac was terrified enough to forget everything else. The man who had taken so much pleasure in tormenting me just moments ago now looked as if he might crumble under the weight of whatever was about to enter the room.

“Please,” I rasped, my voice barely a whisper, the last shred of strength I had left.

My torso hung limp from my bound wrists, the pain of the ropes digging into my skin a dull throb compared to the dread building in my chest. I was slick with sweat, my body trembling.

But Cormac didn’t even look at me.

He stumbled farther back, retreating toward the bottom of the stairs, his gaze locked upward as the footsteps clomped above us, heavy and methodical.

With every stomp of those boots, my heartbeat ratcheted up another notch, my chest tightening.

Whoeverthis High Lord was, his presence cast a long dark shadow, even before I laid eyes on him.

I couldn’t let this man—this High Lord—get to me. I couldn’t let myself fall into his hands.

I looked up at the rope around my wrists again. I had a small chance. The slimmest of chances to free my hand.

But I had to do it now while Cormac was distracted.

I tugged at my hand, wincing as the pain seared through my wrist, hot tears blinding me.

I heard a long creak from the top of the stairs.

I blinked, my vision clearing enough to let me see Cormac dropping to one knee at the base of the stairs.

The High Lord’s shadow emerged first into the cellar. It slunk over Cormac’s stooped shoulders and then slithered across the floor to my half-naked body.

Cormac bent his head reverentially. “High Lord.”

Slow footsteps sounded down the stairs, each step groaning under their weight and dark pants came into view.

My thumb felt like it was going to dislocate if I pulled any harder. Or half my flesh would tear off.

But I couldn’t stop now. God, I was so close to getting a hand free.

The High Lord appeared now, tall and imposing, a dark hood covering his head, his face turned away from me.

---