Captive of Wolves (Bound to the Fae #1) - Eva Chase Page 0,57
nick into my skin. I don’t even check what he’s collecting the blood in. It’s barely enough time for the movie’s characters to crack a few jokes and flub a heroic rescue, and then he’s murmuring a spell over my arm that seals the skin, a kindness Aerik never bothered with.
“Thank you,” the fae lord says, getting up. “I’ll let you watch the rest of the film in peace. The door will lock behind you when you leave.”
He brushes his hand over my hair in a gesture just shy of a caress, and that brief contact brings my awareness crashing back to the present with a flutter of my pulse. I watch him go, feeling abruptly tingly and wondering if I wouldn’t have rather he stayed and watched with me.
I don’t end up finishing the movie. It doesn’t take long before the bitterness of the associations overwhelms any sweetness. Even in a superhero fantasy version of reality, there are far too many reminders of all the things I’ve lost that I might never get back.
When I emerge from the room, the keep is quiet. I creep up the two flights of stairs, practicing the steps that provoke the least noise from my foot brace. Singing voices filter through the walls; Whitt must be hosting another of his revels.
I am starting to feel a little more at peace, if not overjoyed with my situation, when I turn the corner and Kellan appears, his icy silver eyes glittering.
My heart stutters. I stumble backwards instinctively—not far enough. Kellan marches right up to me without hesitation and shoves me into the wall. He pins me there, glaring down at me, but with a smirk twisting his lips that shows he’s as much delighted as he is angry.
“Going to cry for help, maggot meat?” he snarls under his breath, the light in his eyes almost feverish now. “We can find out how quickly one of my claws will slice out your tongue.”
My body trembles. I grasp at the wall, wanting to make sure that when he lets me go—if he lets me go—I won’t collapse. “Please. I just want to go back to my room.”
“Hmm. Think you’re so safe in there, do you? I could open that door if I wanted to. Imagine the fun we’d have then.”
He bares his teeth and kicks my bad foot—not hard enough to break the brace but enough to send a lance of pain through the sinews. I gasp, and the stairs creak at the far end of the house.
Kellan jerks away from me and stalks off with his chin lifted haughtily.
I slump against the wall, hugging myself as if my heart might explode from my chest if I don’t hold it in. No, I can’t stay here. What if he comes back?
It’s only when I’ve staggered into my room, gasping to fill my lungs, that I remember the salt. I could have used it, could have forced him to back off.
But would that really have helped anything? I’d have shown my hand, he’d demand that Sylas take it away from me, and I think Sylas would agree, even if he laid into Kellan for harassing me too. I’ve got to hold onto that gift until I really need it, until it’s my only chance.
As I shake off my daze, I find myself staring blankly at the doorknob. What Kellan said about being able to unlock it comes back to me. It’s magic that holds me in overnight, of course. Why would fae bother with keys when magic is something I can’t steal?
But maybe…
I can’t test the idea yet. I crawl into bed and tuck the covers around me, the shivers not quite subsided. My foot keeps aching. The ghost of Sylas’s affectionate touch lingers on my hair, but the memory of Kellan’s assault stays with me much more vividly.
It doesn’t matter how kind some of these fae men are. They all want to use me in one way or another, it’s only a matter of how painfully. I have to get out of here.
Time slips by. I might doze a little in the quiet of the keep. Then there’s the faintest of footsteps outside my door. Someone stops to cast their magic.
After they’ve left, I count to one hundred in my head, and then do it again, and then again, just to be sure. When I’m convinced that whichever of my captors bespelled the lock must be long gone, I peel off the covers and limp across the