Page 75 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

Twenty-Six

WHEN JANELLE OPENEDher eyes, all she could see was the matted white hair of the horse they rode on.

Victor’s calloused hands held her stomach in a vice-like grip. She didn’t want to turn around to look at him and avoided his soulless eyes as best she could. She hated the man from the depths of her soul, so much that it burned, but Kieran used him for every mission because he always got the job done. The moment Victor’s lips grazed against Janelle’s cheek as he whispered into her ear, right before knocking her out, had caused every hair on her neck to stand straight.

Victor thrived on bringing pain and violence to anyone weaker than him, but he loved hurting young women most of all. Her body had suffered enough violence from his hand over the years that she was tuned to his presence purely on instinct. Whenever he was near her, Janelle would be on edge until she was free of him. He had been Kieran’s first choice to enact her punishments every time she disobeyed an order as a teenage girl. And he didn’t just deliver the disciplines; he relished in them.

Throbbing pain ripped at the back of her scalp so heavily she had to close her eyes or she would vomit.

As her head spun, she tried to thread her fingers through the horse’s mane, but her grip wouldn’t be enough; she was going down.

“Fuck!” Victor cursed as Janelle slipped from his grip, hunched forward, then slid down the horse’s side until she crashed to the rough ground.Twigs and rocks cut into her knees and back.

A cry tore from her lungs as she willed herself to sit up. It was a feeble attempt at best, but the rough ground still felt better than standing, and even better than being on the horse with Victor.

Within moments, Victor stood over her, his shoe crushing into her fingers intentionally.

She raised her chin in defiance. “Come on, Victor,” she said, clearing her throat. “You don’t want to help a lady up?”

Pain exploded in her jaw as his fist cracked against it. It was as if he was punishing her for falling off the horse. She winced but shoved back the grimace on her face so he’d not see how much he had hurt her. Not anymore.

After straightening his back and running his bloodied knuckles through his buttermilk-blond hair, painting it with streaks of red, he glanced back down. A sinister grin pulled at his lips. Then, he quickly slid his boot forward, kicking dirt into her face.

“You are no lady,” he grated. “Just an Elven bitch who tried to deceive our coven leader. Fraternizing with the enemy instead of cutting off his head like you were ordered to do?”

She held her tongue. It wouldn’t matter what she said anyway. Victor got off on hurting women. Janelle knew he anxiously waited for the chance to unleash his wrath upon her at every moment he could. He hated how much attention Kieran gave to her over the rest of the coven, and he made sure she knew it.

His mother must’ve hated him, she thought in her head. Now he takes his fury out on women. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

She blinked back tears from the blow. “What exactly do you think is going to happen when you return me to the mansion with bloody cuts and scrapes?” she asked. “Hmm?”

Victor began to undo his belt knot.

Lars, who watched nearby, stiffened. “Victor, think about what you’re about to do,” he warned. “Kieran will cut your head clean off if you touch her.”

“Touch her?” Victor repeated, choking out a laugh. “I wouldn’t touch that vile elf trash if it was the last thing I did.” He spat on the floor beside her, tiny droplets splashing her cheeks. “I need to piss, and if she so happens to be in the way—”

Janelle quickly held up her hand. “Stop, Victor, you dickless scum. Do you really plan to assault your future queen?” she asked. “Because the first order I plan to execute is to have a knife driven through the center of your throat. In fact, I will insist Kieran allow me to do it myself.”

All amusement disappeared from Victor’s features.

“Oh, filthy elf, you think he’s going to believe you after you betrayed him?” Victor said, tightening his belt loop before stepping back. “No, see, King Elijah caused those injuries after you tried to kill him. Right, Lars?” He snuck a glance at his friend. “We watched it happen before we rescued you.”

Janelle gritted her teeth and bit the inside of her cheek. It wouldn’t matter what she said. Those men were brutal, and anything that came from her lips, they’d punish her for it.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway, does it?” Victor said. “The moment Kieran takes you as his bride, he’ll mold and shape you exactly how he wants you. One whip and laceration at a time.”

Janelle felt heat behind her eyes, powering down everything she had to not fight back. Her will to unleash violence always overcame her self-preservation.

Janelle leapt from the ground, barreling into Victor’s chest. He flew back, smacking his head against a jagged rock. Blood soaked the gravel and dirt beneath his lacerated scalp. Lars jumped off his horse, gripped her hair, and pulled Janelle back, slamming her hard once again against the ground. He kept her pinned under his boot, then spat on her face. She stayed down, wiping the disgust from her cheek before he kicked her three times in a row against her gut. Pain crashed into her body as her ribs cracked from the blows.

“Thought that you assholes weren’t going to touch me,” she spat, looking up. Her weak and injured body would heal, but every punishment was a reminder she failed. Not that she failed Kieran’s order, but she wouldn’t be able to save her brother in her current state.

The men weren’t human; they were sorcerers. She also knew if she tried to fight back, they’d use their magic and rip her apart from the inside out.

Lars picked her up by her hair. His face was up close to hers, close enough for her to be washed in the stench of his breath and see every ridge of the thick scar that stretched across his cheek. His expression was one of pure, vicious contempt.“I think we both changed our minds.”

She tasted the metallic flavor of copper on her tongue and felt a trail of blood crawl from the corner of her mouth to her jawline

“Now get up!” he said, pressing his mouth to her ear. He took a moment, just a moment, to run the flat of his tongue up the side of her face, licking up a part of her blood. Revulsion curled in her stomach, and she would have preferred that he punch her a dozen more times rather than mark her with his wet stench.

Bile rose in her throat, her stomach twisting, but she fought it back down. The only thing Janelle had left in her now wasn’t letting him see the effect his little violation had on her.

“Enough of this bullshit. Let’s go,” Victor said, climbing back on the horse. He grabbed her arm roughly and yanked her up with him. Fighting was pointless and she knew it. Their next stop would be the mansion in Newick, where there was no hope of surviving her fate.

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