Page 60 of White Horse Black Nights

“Yeah,” he says dismissively. “Stay here.”

Alone in the cottage, I don’t know what to do with myself. Everything feels cold, foreign. I don’t want to sit in the hard chairs. The beds’ straw mattresses look moldy. When I check the kitchen cabinet, there are pewter plates and earthenware cups, but no knives. They’ve all been taken away.

I pace, gnawing on my bottom lip.

Another hour passes before the door opens, but it’s not Adan. It’s the elder brother with a scar on his upper lip. He sets a sloshing bucket of water next to the stove but doesn’t leave again. There’s something distasteful about him I can’t put my finger on; he’s handsome enough, though old—nearly old enough that he could be my father, now that I see him closer up. This is really Adan’s brother? He’s dressed slovenly. It’s been a while since he shaved. I don’t want to guess when he last bathed.

He takes a few slow, menacing strides into the cottage, eyeing me up and down like I’m a full banquet after a long fast.Notthe look any man should give his brother’s paramour.

I step back, fear cropping up in my chest, as I place the table between us. “Um, where’s Adan?”

His laugh sounds a lot like a sneer. “Oh, he’ll be busy for a while. Why, worried he’ll interrupt us?”

Now, my heart blows up with fear. This man’s casual delight in my fear sends desperation rising like a tide in me. There were no knives in the kitchen, but maybe there’s a fire poker—

I try to skirt my way closer to the fireplace, but the man steps in, blocking me. His blue eyes travel down the length of my body like he’s mapping out every step of a route he’s about to take. A small, fearful sound escapes my throat.

He grins. “Fuck what Adan says. You’re too sweet not to sample.”

Terror thrums through me. My mind cedes way to my body, which knows what to do. I make a break for the door, but he catches me around the waist, chuckling gruffly as I struggle against him.

“Easy, girl. I’ll make it fast.”

His words drill into my bones until I think I’m going to crumble, but some deep well of strength inside me keeps fighting. I kick and squirm, but he’s got wiry strength. He drags me, struggling, to the table and kicks a chair out of the way so he can set my ass on the tabletop. He grabs the back of my skull with one hand, while trying to pry my knees apart with the other.

“Too bad you don’t have that long hair,” he says huskily, his voice heavy with threat. “Something to hold onto. Like the reins of a horse. Bends a girl to your will, but no bother—I can make do.”

His hand fists painfully in my short hair. Crying out, I try to pry his fingers off. His brothers outside must hear my cries, right? Where’s Adan?

“Stop fucking moving,” he growls, his terrible grin gone now.

“Let me go!” I shout, baring my teeth. “Adan willkillyou!”

“Adan? Adan isn’t in charge.”

He shoves me back against the table. I try to lock my knees together, but he manages to wedge his body between my thighs, then shoves fistfuls of my skirt up around my waist. His hand probes roughly around my cleft. He gets a finger beneath the band of my panties, but before he can shove them aside, I buck my hips to push him away.

“Wait!” I gasp, my mind’s gears whirling as fast as my lungs are pumping for breath. “Wait, not here. Not, um, like this. At least—at least do it in a bed.”

“I told you,” he says curtly, “shut up, and it’ll be over soon.”

“Please, it’s—it’s my first time. At least do it in a bed. I—I won’t struggle. I’ll make it easy for you, I promise, as long as you don’t make it hurt.”

A crack opens up in his dogged determination. He grunts, releasing his hold on my hair. He jerks his head toward the bedroom. Slowly, I sit up. I can’t believe it, but Basten was right. Men will believe whatever they want to believe when their cock is involved.

He barks, “Go on, then, get in the bedroom—”

I knee him in the groin immediately, using the momentum from sliding off the table for extra oomph. His eyes go round as he clamps his hands over his cock and balls. With a cry, I hurl my weight at him to knock him down. He doesn’t fall over, but he stumbles back a few steps. As soon as a path opens to the door, I lunge for it.Go, go, go.

I throw open the door—

And stare into Adan’s startled face as he clutches firewood in one arm, with an axe in his other hand. For a breathless second, time stops, as we both struggle to make sense of the situation. He’s blocking the door—I can’t get past him.

His eyes shift to look at his brother behind me, and there’s a moment when understanding snaps in them. He dumps the clattering firewood on the floor as he storms into the cottage. His shirt is sweatstained from chopping wood, buttons open halfway down his chest. His hair, normally tamed, hangs wild.

Before I can rush out the door, he slams it shut and fastens the latch.

“Maks, what the fuck are you doing?” he demands, the axe tight in his fist.

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