Page 16 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

“Don’t do this, Janelle.” His voice was like a purr to her ears, almost desperate. “Becoming my enemy would be a foolish thing to do.”

Elijah shut his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. When his eyes opened again, the beautiful blue from his irises returned.

“If you fear whoever sent you,” he started, his voice calmer and more controlled, “I can protect you from them.”

She blinked but knew she couldn’t look away with his grip tightly against her chin. It didn’t hurt, but she couldn’t free herself. She slowly closed her eyes, holding back the tears that threatened to spill down her face.

Janelle knew she would be doomed either way. If Elijah wasn’t dead by sundown on the fifteenth day, the punishment her people would give would make her wish Elijah had killed her himself. It didn’t matter if she wanted to do it. If she didn’t, she faced a fate far worse than death.

Elijah eased up on her body but didn’t release her. He leaned down, placing his lips near her ear.

“I can be your ally, love. Or, I can be your villain,” he said, and his breath felt like fire against her skin. It caused every muscle in her body to stiffen. The thought of it was terrifying, even though she did her best to hide it. Janelle wasn’t a fool. She knew what he could do to her, and no one would stop him.

I will never show my fear, she reminded herself. Never.

Janelle opened her eyes and glared back.

“If that is true, you really are exactly like your father,” she said, right before his hand slid down and gripped her throat. He didn’t squeeze, only held it in a tight warning.

Janelle’s training kicked in. Her hand lashed out, fisting his shirt, then she pulled him close enough to crack her skull against his forehead.

He winced, rolling off her before she bolted for the door. She only made it to the end of the mattress before he reached out and grabbed her by the neck, yanking her back until her shoulders hit the bed again.

Elijah pulled a knife from the sheath at his hip and pressed it against her neck, hard enough to feel its sharpness but not hard enough to draw blood. Janelle was pinned under the king’s thighs once again, but the feeling of the blade was enough to keep her from struggling. She only stared at him with fierce defiance, trying to ignore the heat of her body where he pinned her down, the sensation developing between her legs. She swallowed down the painful lump in her throat.

Elijah didn’t smile or appear to find pleasure in her fear or pain. If anything, he looked as if he felt sorry for her or regretted his decision to lash out.

He pulled back the knife and placed it back into his sheath. Janelle’s heart hammered in her chest, the rush of blood creating a thunderous roar in her ears.

She honestly thought it was the end of her.

“A warning, Janelle,” he said. “I hope whoever has sent you trained you to endure torture, for your sake. Because that is all I have left.”

He rolled off her body and planted his feet on the floor next to the bed. He turned, looking back at her, still lying on her back while straightening his shirt.

“Tomorrow, we will begin. Whether you offer up information freely or not will be your choice. Pain will be waiting, and Wayland will not be kind or gentle with you. No matter how beautiful you are.”

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