Page 17 of A Bond in Blood

My teeth gritted at the sound of Olen’s amusement.

Ulrich pressed his body against mine, an obvious tease to bring me discomfort.

“She tried to slit my throat,” he replied with little emotion.

Olen’s voice shifted from amusement to rage. “Excuse me?”

Ulrich’s hands on my wrists and the one covering both of my eyes tightened. “She likely needs to spend the night in the dungeons.”

“So, I am to be your prisoner,” I yelled out, struggling to slip from his hold.

“Stop moving like that. I’ve warned you.”

Olen laughed again. “Gods, this is going to be entertaining.”

Ulrich’s beard brushed against my cheek and his voice lowered with his whisper. “We can play if you want. Get lost in the pleasure of our hate. Maybe even invite my right hand to join us. What do you say?”

In all my years of royal training for how to interact with a king—what to say and how to say it—I had not once imagined the way I’d reacted as his whisper left a mark on my skin.

Spit flew from my mouth, and I prayed to the Gods it had landed right on his face.

Ulrich’s grip turned from tight to searing pain, burning into my skin.

“Do that again, and you’ll regret it,” he sneered.

My mouth opened to disobey, and a hand clamped around my lips.

“Usually I’m the one spitting,” he seethed, and his fingers dug into my cheeks.

He was disgusting. He was as much of a monster as I had been warned.

Unable to speak or see, but realizing he’d released my hands, I started to claw. My nails hit his skin, scraping down the corded muscles along his arms. Tearing at his flesh. With my other hand, my fingers brushed against his long hair and I tugged. As hard as I could.

Ulrich inhaled loudly but he didn’t move. As if he were possibly enjoying my rampage. Enraging me even more, fueling the scream that ripped from my throat. Like a feral animal fighting for its release.

“Gods, you beast!” Olen’s voice echoed.

Ulrich only laughed. “Take her to the dungeon. Let her brood over her actions.”

His hands remained on my eyes and lips as hands slipped under my body, lifting me up. I yelled out, shaking my head, trying to fight him off of me. Fabric replaced his hands and was secured tightly at the back of my head.

“You’re really blindfolding me?” I asked, unable to hold back my laugh.

“I told you the terms. Don’t think I’ve forgotten them so quickly,” Ulrich replied.

“What happens if I look upon your face? I melt from your beauty?” I snapped.

Olen’s chest rumbled against me with his laugh. “Fuck,” he whispered.

Ulrich’s amusement wasn’t easy to miss, even if I couldn’t see him as he replied, “Amusing to hear you think I’m beautiful.” My cheeks flushed while he continued. “Or perhaps my full image will stop your heart, filling you with terror.”

Olen’s grip on my body shifted and I cried out when he threw me over his shoulder—again.

“Would you stop throwing me around like a sack!” I yelled, kicking my feet.

“That nightgown is all kinds of indecent,” Ulrich’s voice echoed behind me.

Rage burned my blood, and my kicking turned more violent. Yet Olen didn’t react. No grunts, no shifting. His hands only tightened around my legs.

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