Page 8 of Taken By The Dark Three
In response, I wrench her closer, ignoring the jolt of power that crackles along my forearm. The edge of her cloak drags across my thigh, and the subtle aroma of sweat and raw magic floods my senses. It’s strangely intoxicating, something I would never admit aloud.
“Stop fighting,” I growl, forcing her arm behind her back. She snarls, refusing to yield. Her movements are sinuous, her body all coiled muscle and suppressed fury. It’s nearly impossible not to admire that lethal elegance, though it sparks all my bitterness toward her kind.
The child cowers behind a fallen crate, trembling in plain sight of my men. For an instant, the woman’s attention flicks to the child, and that distraction is enough. I slam my weight into her, pinning her against the nearest wall. She gasps, the breath knocked from her lungs. My palm wraps around her wrist, pressing it to the damp stone. I can practically taste her rage.
She glares daggers at me, face inches away. “You think this ends with you?”
I hold her there, my breathing ragged, heart thunderous. “It ends when I say it does.”
She tries to summon that flickering magic again, and I feel the sudden rush of heated energy swirl near my chest. But now I have her pinned, and my men close in around us, weapons raised. Roath darts to the child, yanking her away from the debris.
The woman hisses, “No!”
I tighten my grip, ignoring how every cell in my body sparks at the contact. “There’s nowhere left to run, purna.”
She bares her teeth, eyes wild. Sweat beads along her temple. If it weren’t for the raw fury emanating from her, I might find that expression almost alluring. It’s a twisted moment of shared breath, her chest heaving against mine, tension thrumming through every bone.
Her next words slice the air. “I’ll kill you before I let you drag us into whatever sadistic cage Orthani built.”
I press my forearm against her shoulder, holding her tighter. The threat only adds a spark to the taut wire strung between us. “Try. You’ll find me ready.”
A flicker of something crosses her expression—defiance mixed with a flicker of reluctant intrigue. I can’t fully decipher it, but it sends a prickle down my spine. My men remain on high alert, each second intensifying the stifling presence of steel and aggression.
Slowly, she stops struggling. A faint tremor runs through her limbs, as though her magic is still coiled and eager to strike but she can’t find an opening. I exhale through clenched teeth, relief tangled with an odd surge of triumph. She’s captured, though I suspect breaking her spirit will be far more difficult.
I jerk my chin at Kalen, who steps forward with iron cuffs. “Restrain her,” I command. “And keep that child within sight.”
Kalen snaps open the cuffs, moving to lock her wrists. She stiffens, glaring at me as though memorizing every angle of my face for future retribution. Something about that steady glare makes my blood pound, even as logic warns me never to trust a purna’s cunning.
I speak softly, so only she can hear, “You’ll answer to Orthani’s court. Pray they show you a mercy that I wouldn’t.”
She lifts her chin, a mocking light in her eyes. “And you’d show none, right? Another big, dangerous soldier who thinks capturing me proves your worth.”
That sends a spear of anger through my chest, laced with an undercurrent of uneasy attraction. “Don’t test me.” But the words feel hollow. She already has tested me, and part of me hates how alive that feels.
Kalen locks the cuffs around her wrists, forcing her arms behind her back. She winces slightly, though she tries to hide any sign of discomfort. Roath seizes the child’s arm, ignoring her whimpers. The child’s eyes well with tears, the flicker of raw power dancing around her small hands. I give Roath a warning look, silently telling him not to provoke an outburst. He slackens his grip just enough for the child to stand without stumbling.
My soldiers gather in a tight formation, surrounding our captives. A hush settles on the courtyard now that our target is seized. I straighten, forcing the woman away from the wall. She stumbles, and I tug the chain connecting her cuffs, keeping her close.
She fixes me with that piercing stare again, chest rising and falling in rapid pulses. Despite the dirt on her cheeks and the exhaustion lining her features, she radiates raw ferocity. It’s all I can do not to stare too long. A muscle in my jaw clenches.
“We’re done here,” I say, turning to my men. “Return to the upper district. Inform the council we have the purna.”
One of the soldiers voices his excitement, rattling off how the nobility will reward us for securing such a prize. The mention of a “prize” makes my gut twist. This woman is no ordinary captive. Everything about her screams danger, from her posture to the lethal glint in her gaze. The child remains silent, tears glistening on her lashes.
I start leading them away, guided by torchlight. Her pace is forced by the chains, but she never stumbles for long. It’s as if she won’t give me the satisfaction of seeing her truly falter. Beneath that cloak, she’s all tense muscles and unspoken threats. The night sky above Lowtown glimmers with the last traces of moonlight, painting a ghostly reflection on the puddles beneath our feet.
As we exit the courtyard, she mutters under her breath, “You’ll regret this.”
I allow myself a cold smile. “You’re in no position to threaten me.” Yet I can’t shake the unsettled thrill that courses through my veins. The memory of her pinned against the wall, breath ghosting across my cheek, replays in my mind. She’s not like any enemy I’ve cornered before. There’s something else there—something that makes me question whether I’ve truly emerged the victor.
We navigate twisted alleys, ignoring the stares of half-starved onlookers too afraid to interfere. Each step away from Lowtown’s grime brings us closer to Orthani’s higher tiers, where the spires loom and the architecture gleams with the dark elves’ wealth. My men keep the captives in the center, ensuring no attempt at escape.
I steal a glance at her. She’s studying everything, from the positions of my soldiers to the shadowy nooks along the path. She’s searching for weaknesses, no doubt. That cunning setsmy nerves on edge. My jaw tightens at the recollection of her defiance. The purna I despise are normally cowering or wrathful, never so calmly resilient.
Her eyes flick to mine. For a heartbeat, an unspoken challenge arcs between us. Tension crackles as I recall how her body felt pinned under my grip, how the energy in her skin brushed my senses. An unwelcome throb of heat curls low in my gut. I crush it immediately. She’s my prisoner, a threat, a witch with the power to burn this city if we let her. That’s all.
We move in a single file past barricades, ignoring the jeers of a few drunken humans. The closer we get to the better-patrolled streets, the fewer onlookers remain. My men set a brisk pace, eager to hand these captives to the court. The child stumbles from time to time, and the woman steadies her, not minding the cold iron biting into her wrists.
