Page 94 of Seven Oars
She’d bungled it. She hadn’t been able to concentrate. She’d been impertinent with him, and now he was going to harm Gro.
“I’m sorry, Striker Fincros! I will play your game. I’ll do better.”
His lip curled.“You’re a weak creature.”
“Yes, Striker. I am. I’ve always been. And everywhere I go, I’m the weakest one. Do you know what that feels like? That helplessness? But I will play! Anything you want. Just don’t kill them.”
His breath hit the top of her head—he was so much taller.
He was looking at her again. His attention felt almost physical.
“Kill them?”
“I beg you…”
He interrupted, leaning down slightly. She could feel his slow, measured breaths on her forehead.
“I don’t kill my captives.”
“You don’t?”She didn’t believe him.
One corner of his mouth lifted, just a little, revealing the tips of sharp fangs.
“That is, once I’ve decided to keep them,” he clarified.
Then he turned and walked away, his booted steps light on the metal mesh floor.
A keening sound broke from Rosamma’s lips, so great was her relief.
She staggered to her sleeping pad on wooden legs, dropped to her knees, and then pitched forward, face down, onto the crinkly, dirty blanket.
Ren would’ve called what had just happened a mind fuck. Fincros was a pro at that.
He didn’t kill his prisoners, he’d said.
Right.
He only forced them into deadly fights and rapes and made their lives so unbearable that death seemed like a decent alternative.
She lay there, replaying the encounter in her mind, stunned at the cruel treachery of her brain. Mistaking Fincros for Phex?
She must’ve lost her mind.
He didn’t have to lay a hand on her to crush her. Evil, evil man. He fed on her confusion.
She hid her face in the blanket, trying to block the images and words replaying in her head again and again.
She was angry at him, but angrier at herself for being such a weakling in body and mind, no match for him in any regard.
She wished she could forget the disturbing encounter.Forget looking into his eyes that were like black holes, sucking away her free will. Forget his mouth, twisted in a cruel parody of a smile. His raspy, terrifying voice.Forget the dark warmth that had pooled inside her like an ink stain when she stood between his spread legs.
Chapter 14
As the women stirred awake and began their morning routines, Rosamma lay on her pad, eyes wide open. To say she’d had a restless night would be an understatement.
She was still a little wired, itchy, uncomfortable in her own skin.
“How’re we doing on drinkable water?” Eze asked, tinkering again with the shower filter.
