His words sink in as he retreats.
He means to take you to Sherinde.
You’re fully clothed, sitting in a hot, steaming bath.
He’s taking you even further from the only home you’ve ever known.
You thrust your chin out, indignant. “That is not my home, Commander.”
He stops, turning. “No?” His mesmerizing green eyes drink you in, amused. But you’re suddenly squirming under his penetrating gaze.
You can feel your heartbeat pounding wildly, your chest heaving.
“It will be soon,” he says softly and retreats.
Your heart drops.
He wants to take you to Sherinde, where they will do unspeakable things.
You are as good as dead.
Your leaders warned you. They warned you about getting caught alive.
And now here you are. At this elven commander’s mercy.“No!” you yell, panicked. “I am not going!”
You hurl a fat bar of soap straight at the back of his head.
But he must have felt it coming, sensed it.
He angles his body so quickly it shocks you, and you narrowly miss your mark.
Damn.
It slaps hard against the wall.
And the silence that ensues is unbearably painful.
He stares at it a moment, then retrieves it.
He walks it back over to you on his long legs. “Your escort is arriving shortly,” he says cooly, unaffected.
You jerk your head his way, forgetting that you just tried to murder him with soap.
You sit up, steaming water sloshing over your bath. “Escort?”
The thought sends a violent tremor through your body.
“This is where we part ways,” his silken voice rasps.
Leave a Reply