his wrist and there’s another crunch of bone and the man falls to the ground, limp.
Dead.
Aron turns to me, breathing hard, and his eyes are alight with some sort of peculiar glee. His pale skin gleams with a hint of sweat and he grins, pleased with himself. “Gate’s clear. Let’s go.”
I make a wordless sound of protest in my throat.
“What?” he asks, frowning as if I’m the problem here. Me. Meanwhile, I just watched a man relentlessly slaughter a bunch of men that stood in his way. Unreal.
“Are you going to do this all the damn time?” I ask, rubbing my arms against the sudden chill that’s swept over me.
It’s clear Aron doesn’t like being questioned. “Do what?”
“This?” I gesture angrily at the dead men strewn in front of the gate. “I mean, hello, this is not what civilized people fucking do!”
“It is what the Lord of Storms and god of battle does.”
“But still!”
He adjusts his cloak, pulling the hood back over his head. “Are you going to tell me that you had it under control? Because I seem to recall this one”—and he kicks one of the dead bodies—“grabbing you.”
I swallow hard, because my boob still hurts where he squeezed it. That doesn’t give Aron the right to just slaughter a bunch of people though. “I also remember you stating that I’m your property.”
His eyes gleam with that unholy light again, and his grin widens, showing his teeth. It’s not a friendly grin, or even a pleasant one. “That is because you are. You are my anchor in this world. You are mine to do with as I please.”
I shiver at the deadly confidence in his voice and the meaning behind his words. I hug my clothes tighter to my body. “Well, if you grab my tit, I’m going to be pissed.”
“There is no time for that right now. Let us open this gate and be gone, as you have demanded for hours.” He turns away and stalks toward the portcullis.
I swallow the emotion bubbling in my throat. Part of me wants to turn away and tell him to fuck off. That we’re done and I’ll find my own way in this strange place. But then I watch him study the portcullis and then fumble at the gate, as if he can’t figure out how it opens.
Just like he can’t figure out how to sleep.
I sigh. If I leave him alone, I’m sure he’s going to die. It might not be from a fight, but it might be from starvation just because he’s that clueless. I signed up for this no matter what and he did save my life…and the other women.
I probably need this guy to get home. He’s a god, right? It stands to reason that if he gets back to his world, he can get me back to mine.
I sigh again. Damn it. “I hate this,” I mutter to the dead people around me, and then spot a key ring at the belt of one of the guards. I grab it—and a money pouch one has at his belt—and then head to Aron’s side. “Just please don’t keep murdering people, all right?”
“They stood in our way. You said yourself we do not have time to lose. Now, are you going to keep sobbing over the corpses of men who would have fucked you to open a door, or are you going to come with me?”
I hate this man sometimes, I really do. I really hate it when he’s right. I head forward with the keys. “How long exactly am I stuck being your servant? Asking for a friend.”
“No, you are not.” He smacks the door, frustrated. “How does this open?”
I facepalm. Oh, this man. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.
13
We head out of the city and into a wasteland.
I blink the dirt out of my eyes and pull my hood tighter around my face, even though it’s dark outside and there’s no one out here to see us. But there’s dirt constantly flying in the air and it slinks around our boots like a fine layer of sand peppering everything. There are no trees out here in the open, and even though it’s dark, I can’t make out any grasses or foliage. I can barely make out the cobblestones of the road because they’re so covered with grit. Everywhere I look, as far as the eye can see, there’s nothing but naked hill after hill.