Page 79 of The Delta's Rogue
I hate the way she talks down to us. I feel so small—like a flea next to a mountain, a dandelion seed carried away by the wind, a human about to be stepped on by a giant. It’s demeaning and infantilizing. And I won’t stand for it. I won’t take it.
“Fuck. You.” I spit the words at her in a low but firm and resolute voice. I hold my chin high, looking down my nose at her even though she’s much taller than me.
She blinks at me once, but that’s the only outward reaction she gives to my words. “What was that, sweet girl?” Her hand rests on my shoulder, and her fingernails bite into my skin. “I couldn’t quite hear you.” Her brows raise slightly, and she looks at me pointedly, giving me a chance to redeem myself, to take back my response.
I won’t.
“Vete a la mierda,” I repeat. “Tú y tus brujas—you and your witches—and the disgusting males who brought all of us here.Vete a la mierdafor thinking you can take our choice from us and force us to submit to you by using our bodies against us! Fuck all of you!”
With each word I utter, my ability to speak diminishes until I’m fighting with all my might to throw my curses at her. But I push through the pain even as Brenna uses my blood to silence me, to protect me from Amara’s wrath for speaking to her this way. I focus all my strength on spitting these words out, on asserting my dominance—however short-lived it may be.
No seré silenciada. I will not be silenced.
I can take whatever Amara dishes out. I’ve known a pain worse than anything she can think of. Nothing compares to the agony of walking out of that clearing and leavingmi vida, my entire life, behind me when I did. Nothing measures up to the ache of the cavernous crevice in my soul that grows with each day we’re apart.
The room around us goes silent. Every occupant stands on the edge of a precipice with widened eyes. They all know I’ve crossed a line and wasted my chance to take it all back. I took Amara’s “grace,” threw it on the ground, and spat on it.
In an instant, Amara’s demeanor shifts. The caring, kind, gooey motherly figure is no more. Her eyes dilate until they’re pitch black.
I’m immobilized by Brenna’s blood magic. Her hold on me is mightier than it was when I shot my venomous vitriol at Amara. Either Brenna didn’t give it her all when shetried to silence me, or I used too much of my strength to spew my words at Amara, and I now have none left.
Amara scrapes her nails across my skin, leaving scratches behind, and rips the sleeve from my dress. It slides to the floor, and she lifts her other hand to my chest, tracing along the bust of my dress until she reaches my cleavage.
Her fingers slip between my breasts and slice through the string tied into a dainty bow. The left half of the bodice slips from my chest, exposing my nipple to the cool air of the room and all the eyes filling it. My nipple tightens and hardens, peaking from the whisper of air floating across it, and I hate that I can’t control my body’s natural reaction to the temperature. I hate that she can not only see my bare breast but has a glimpse of how my body looks when I’m aroused.
My muscles, bones, and skin ache as Brenna holds me in place for Amara to violate and degrade. The magical connection from the blood in Brenna’s hand to the blood flowing in my veins vibrates through me, creating tiny shocks of electricity that never end. I can’t fight Brenna’s hold on me, and I can’t fight Amara off of me.
I’m forced to submit.
It’s humiliating and demeaning, but it’s better than giving in to her demands. No matter what the outcome is, it beats offering myself to them on a platter.
Amara releases me from her grasp. I’m sweating, even though my body is ice cold since Brenna’s magic is no longer providing me with comforting warmth. I tremble and sway on my feet, but Brenna keeps me upright, keeps my knees from collapsing under the weight of my exhaustion.
“Make her do the rest.” Amara shoots Brenna a quick glance before returning her predatory focus to me.
“Yes, Mistress Amara.”
I brace myself for the pain and the nauseating, infuriating frailty that accompanies the physical manipulation of my body. No matter how many times I experience it, the perversity of it never changes. The shock of someone else making me move does not fade.
Respira,I remind myself.Just breathe.
My hands undo the ties holding the slits closed, and I ignore the robotic movements of my puppet-like limbs. They move to the hem of my dress, and I try to close my eyes so Idon’t witness the hideous glee shining on Amara’s face. Brenna’s control doesn’t allow me to, though, so I let my eyes go unfocused, staring off at a spot on the wall behind Amara.
Brenna forces me to peel off the rest of the ruined dress, and it joins the torn sleeve on the floor. My arms rest at my sides, chest and shoulders heaving from the hidden exertion of fighting the blood magic, but I keep my chin high, maintaining my proud and defiant demeanor.
Amara examines me, and her smile grows as her eyes move lower and lower on my naked, exposed body.
“Everything about you is so lovely.” She cups my face in her icy, cruel hands. “Why would you want to hide this exquisite beauty from us? From anyone?”
I clamp my mouth shut tighter to prevent myself from snapping at her. Not that I can. Not with Brenna’s hold on me.
“It’s all right.” Amara’s thumb rubs my cheek. “You should be proud of the way you look. You will draw the attention of all the bidders with the deepest pockets. There will be a war between them all, with you as the prize.”
My throat strains as my teeth grind together. My gut reaction is to shake my head in response to her words.Yo no quiero eso. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be a prize, a trophy. I don’t want depraved men fighting over me and bidding on me. The thought has me ready to vomit.
Amara circles me. “Yes,” she mutters as if she’s reassuring herself. “Just lovely. Arguably the prettiest one we’ve ever caught.”
She rubs my back in what I assume is supposed to be comforting circles, but instead of soothing my aching tension, it creates more. The urge to flee battles with the magical energy pulsing through my blood that prevents me from moving.
