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Chapter Twelve
“I am not going in there,” I declared. He didn’t answer as he pulled a leather wrap out of his pack. He unrolled it onto the ground, revealing a set of iron tools with worn wooden handles.
“Sit down and be quiet,” he said, pointing to a large rock nearby. “You said you wouldn’t cause trouble if I brought you with me, and I’m holding you to that.” He stared at me, not wavering, waiting for me to comply. “The temperature is supposed to drop tonight,” he said, reminding me of his threat to leave me out on the battlements.
Without saying a word, I folded my arms, put my nose in the air and sank down on the rock where he pointed, pretending like this had been my idea all along. “Oooh, what a comfy rock,” I said, wiggling my butt against it. “This is so much better than my cage.”
As usual, he ignored me while he returned to what he was doing. He used the various tools—a screwdriver, a hammer, a wrench—to make adjustments to the cage, first working on the outside and then moving to the door. I stared at the sky and let out a long breath.
My elbows planted on my knees, I watched him work, enjoying the way his muscles shifted under his tunic. He’d taken off the heavier overcoat while he’d worked, the sun warm despite the thin crust of snow on the ground.
I let out another dramatic sigh, and he tossed me an impatient look. When he turned away, I gri
It was then I noticed he’d left his dagger lying on the ground next to him. He was working on the door to the cage, crouching on the balls of his feet, his body half in and half out. Should I do it? Now was as good a chance as any, and I’d been waiting for an opportunity like this. I’d have to move faster than I ever had in my life, but I hadn’t seen an opening this good in weeks. Who knew when he’d let his guard down like this again?
I took a slow breath, trying to calm my heartbeat. I couldn’t alert him to any change in my demeanor. He’d sense it—I was sure of it. I edged off the rock so I was hovering just above it, my hands braced for leverage. I’d only get one attempt to do this, and if I messed up, it was over. Counting down from three, I readied myself, and then I ran.
Crashing into Wicked, I knocked him over, sending him toppling into the cage. I slammed the door shut and flipped the lock before he launched himself at me with a snarl. I leaped back, but the bars and the door held fast as he shook it and roared. “Rowan! Open this right now.” For a moment, I was too shocked to move. I couldn’t believe that worked. And oh my gods, was he pissed.
I stepped forward to pick up the dagger that lay just outside the cage, beyond his reach. He lunged again, the entire cage shifting, and I nearly fainted from how hard my heart was beating.
“Rowan, open this right now,” he hissed. I held up the dagger with a shaking arm and shook my head. I needed to end this, but I couldn’t get near enough to slit his throat. Even if I could, I wasn’t sure if I could go through with it. It was one thing to tell yourself you’re going to kill someone and quite another thing to actually do it.
“Rowan!” he roared again, hurling his body at the bars. I had to get out of here. Now.
“I’m sorry,” I said, not sure what I was apologizing for and then turned and ran as fast as I could.
Once again on the run, I headed in the castle’s direction, hoping I’d find my way as I got closer. Otherwise, I’d have to find somewhere to hide. If he caught me, I was finished. He was furious. I prayed the cage would hold him. Clearly he’d intended it for the Reaper, who didn’t exactly sound like a kitten, so Wicked had to have made it pretty strong.
But strong enough to hold a seriously apoplectic Fae? Gods, I hoped so.
Ru
Suddenly, I went flying, something wrapping around my legs. I crashed into the ground, a heavy weight landing on top of me. I kicked and screamed and thrashed, but he had me. A low growl came from his throat as he flipped me over and pressed me into the cold ground, seizing my wrists in his hands. Slamming them to the earth, I cried out as Wicked landed on top of me with all of his weight.
“Let me go!” I screamed, bucking and kicking. But he was solid and immoveable, and I was completely ineffective.
“Hold still,” he snarled. “I’m going to...” He trailed off, apparently at a loss for words.
“What? You’re going to what?! Leave me in the woods in a cage as bait for the Reaper and leave me to die?!” I screamed so loud my voice cracked.
“That’s not what—” he said and I spit at him, saliva landing on his cheek and slowly sliding down. He growled and leaned over, bringing his face to mine, his big body pressing me into the cold ground. I writhed and fought and then suddenly stopped, my breath seizing.
Fuck. Wicked was as hard as a rock. I could feel his thick length where his hips pressed between my thighs, and heat rushed to my stomach. Our gazes met and his nose flared as I remembered what he’d said about his sense of smell. There was no doubt he could scent how wet I’d just become. Why was this so hot? I wanted to die right there of mortification.
For several long heartbeats, we stared at each other, our chests heaving, lightning sparking in the air between us. His dark expression was so intense, I thought it might melt me right into the forest floor.
A second later, he hauled himself up and pulled me to stand, clamping on to my wrist before he dragged me back through the forest. I’d never seen him this angry. It was obvious in the set of his shoulders and the way he ignored my protests while I stumbled to keep up.
Before long, we arrived back at the castle. He said nothing as he dragged me inside, shoved me into my cage and slammed the door. He didn’t move, holding on to the bars as he stared at me, his chest still puffing in and out. My own breath was coming in tight, short gasps.
“I hate you! I want to go home! How can you do this to me?”
Suddenly, he swung open the door and stormed in, coming to a stop so close I had to press myself into the wall to avoid touching him. His hands planted themselves on either side of my head and he leaned in, his hard body and his hard cock pressing against me, caging me in. I squirmed, the space between my thighs tightening in response. What the hell was wrong with me?
“You can’t be angry with me for trying to save myself,” I hissed. He moved his face closer, his expression a mask of fury. I was sure I was about to die.
Forget the Reaper, Wicked would be the source of my eternal undoing.
“I’m not angry with you,” he snarled and then he kissed me.