Page 6 of Ruthless Scoundrel
He chuffs. “Stubborn little thing, aren’t you? I won’t make you beg for it. I won’t make you trade anything, either.”
He stands, moving closer to me. “Open your mouth, princess. I can’t have you dying before we get to our destination.”
“But dying once we reach our destination is not your problem,” I rasp up at him, my voice broken and quiet.
“Dying isn’t in my plan for you at all. Now, open your mouth,” he orders, uncapping the skein.
Around us, the other two men are kicking the slaves and throwing down chunks of something I can’t make out.
My gaze snaps back to my captor. “Why do I get special treatment?”
He glances over his shoulder, then back at me. “You want their fate? Or do you want some water?”
I hate myself, and him, but I open my mouth.
If the rebellion could see me now, stuck on my knees, pleading for water with my eyes in the same moment I’m wishing to kill him, they would be ashamed of me. Not as if I’m anything more than a weapon to them, but still…sometimes I think Lumi is proud of me, of my strength and will. Sometimes I wish she’d been my mother instead of the cold bitch of a queen.
The man presses the tip of the skein to my mouth and tilts the bag upward. Cool, fresh, life-saving water touches my tongue and I devolve to the basest instinct. I latch onto the nozzle and suck hard, swallowing desperately again and again. My breath wheezes out through my nose in heavy pants and the smell of waste makes me so ill, I retch. The water comes barreling back up my throat, but I swallow hard until it’s all back down.
“Easy now, that’s enough,” he says gently and tries to pull back the skein, but I can’t let go. If I let go, I may never get another drink of water again.
I bite the nozzle and keep sucking, pulling in as much water as I can.
He drops down until we’re eye to eye, and whispers, “I’m not going to deprive you, princess. Let go before you throw it all up.”
I take one last greedy drink and release my jaw. Some of the water spills out over my cracked lips as he pulls it away, making them sting. I lick the droplets up and his eyes glint like opals for the briefest flash.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, my voice still rough.
“You need something to eat, too. Just a little, since your stomach is now crowded,” he says, holding up a large cracker. He breaks off a corner and puts it to my lips.
My stomach groans needily and he smirks. “See, your body knows what’s best. Open.”
I hate him.
“No.”
His eyes sheen with opal again.
Fuck, Iknowhim.
“Jasper,” I grit out. “You vile, worthless bastard.”
He tsks at me. “Such language, princess.”
“Take me home. Now,” I growl.
His face hardens. “Eat.”
He pushes the cracker against my lips and, hells, I’m so gods damned hungry. But I didn’t pray to Zephrom for the fortitude to overcome torture, to deal her justice, just to succumb at her first test.
I turn my face away and my jailer sighs like my plight is a minor inconvenience to him.
“Eat, or I’ll hold your mouth open and force-feed you.”
“Good luck,” I say between my clenched teeth. “I’ll bite off anything you put in me.”
He chortles.
