Page 9 of Deception

LUCY

Asneer tips up one side of Tomasz’s face as he pulls back and nods. As he rounds me, the flat of his hand follows the circumference of my waist. He doesn’t touch me, but the heat of his flesh rakes through my body.

I hate it even though the closeness sparks hope through me. The closer he stays, the more opportunity there is to follow through on the order they sent me to him with.

Pausing at my side, he fists my hair, wrapping the length around his hand before he tugs harshly. Nudging the back of my knee with his, folding me onto my knees. Without even a silent warning, he pulls me towards the door by my hair.

“Good, bitch,” he spits as I crawl after him, trying to avoid any more injuries or damage that could debilitate me in the long run.

Opportunity is my friend, and I intend to take it when it’s offered to me. Even if it means I crawl on my hands and knees right now.

When we get to the sweeping staircase, he yanks me back up onto my feet. My ankles crick slightly in the insanely tall heels on my feet. He doesn’t give me time to find my balance as he carries on down each step, pulling me behind him as though he’s walking a disobedient dog.

“Lick your lips,” he grunts as we reach the bottom of the steps, allowing the staff to get a good look at me—the new pet.

Ignoring his order, I stand tall and meet every single gaze. The raging pound of my heart is deafening as I look around for the closest escape. There are so many doors and windows that it should be easy to get away, except one of the many goons that patrols this place mans every exit.

I’ve walked royal palace halls and corridors that had less security than this house. It doesn’t matter where I look, there are eyes staring right back at me. At least the staff look wary enough to suggest they’re afraid I’ll bite them like I bit him.

Again, he nudges and tugs me onto my knees. The sudden momentum pushes the air from my lungs as I hit the stone floor, making me hack spit from my mouth. A grin cuts his face as he watches it drool down my chin, waiting for me to lick it off my lips.

I don’t.

I won’t.

Never, I promise silently as I hold his stare.Ever.

“Okay,” he laughs before continuing across the entry hall.

Tall windows let in the last rays of sun. The light has that peachy glow that tinges everything with warmth, even though I’m as cold as this stoic place.

He walks faster than I can crawl to keep up with him. Even when I collapse on my front, my chin hitting the floor before I fall on my face, he carries on.

“When a dog misbehaves,” Tomasz states, as he walks me out of a side door, dragging me over the dirt and debris from the shrubs and trees around us, “you throw it outside to sleep with the wolves and the foxes.”

He comes to a stop under a large oak. I’m prostrate on the ground while he pulls my head back so that our eyes meet. “You will surrender to me, Lucy Stanton.”

Releasing my hair, he drops me back on the ground before he strides to a thick branch and uses a pocketknife to cut through the ropes holding the plank swing in place.

“Run,” he grunts, knotting the rope around the branch as I push myself up onto my feet. “I dare you.”

When it comes to instinct, I’ve never been one for flight. I’m not a cowardly runner. I’m a fucking fighter. It’s why the brotherhood sent me. Why they picked me to be their spy. A secret killer. Something unsuspected from my appearance.

If I run, then I can’t kill him, and all of this would be a waste. Habitually, I tip my chin down to search for the lucky penny that usually hangs around my neck. The crumb I left as insurance on their promise to protect me and rescue me if the plan went wrong. Which it has, and because I can’t bite my anxiety down on my penny, I do it on my lip.

I’m a fighter. I am strong. I will not surrender to this man.

As he turns back to the rope, I look around for anything that I can use to my advantage. Except for the natural debris from the tree, there’s nothing but a fucking stick. I don’t know what damage it will do, but even if it’s just a little…

Digging the thin heels into the dirt, I pick it up. The sharp pain to my side from being dragged over the uneven ground shoots through me, robbing me of my breath with a low groan. There’s no sign that he suspects anything while he carries on knotting the rope.

The fabric of his shirt pulls taut with every movement, showcasing muscles whose strength I’ve felt.

This is my moment.

The air is still, as though it’s trying to help me maintain my balance. Nature’s hum quietens to the faintest buzz.

One step, and I grasp the stick tighter in both hands.

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