Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Lilitha dropped her knife with a cry.

“I told you I had her,” he growled as three of his men hurried over to them.

Lilitha’s mind churned in horror. There was not a hint of liquor on his breath, and his men had apparently been lying in wait. A trap!

She squirmed in his grasp but stopped and cried out when he squeezed her wrist hard enough to grind the bones together.

“Silly girl!” he snarled. “How could you think someone like you could get the better of me?”

“Let go!”

“I train for this every day. I live and breathe this sort of thing.” He was still holding onto her with agonizing strength as she fell to her knees. Her bones cracked.

He let go, and Lilitha bowed over her throbbing arm, gasping for breath.

“We should help you,” one of his men said.

Fixing his britches, Mandalay snorted. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“But sir—”

“I’d rather not have you bear witness to my personal business, thank you. Come on.” He jerked Lilitha to her feet. “I’ll be down at Traveller’s Inn if it concerns you so much.”

Gripping her painful wrist, he hauled her down the street. “You’re fortunate. It just so happens that I have a room lined up.” He jerked her ahead, and she yelped at the pain.

Every time she tried to pull away or drag her feet or scream, he squeezed her arm, causing such agony that black dots speckled across her eyes.

He pulled a key out of his pocket. They were standing in front of a dark inn. Above the door, a banner bearing a cloaked man on a horse fluttered in the light breeze.

Most of the windows were shut and latched, except for two on the second level which were glowing with light.

He inserted the key in the lock and turned it. “I have enjoyed your little game tonight. You should be proud of yourself that you’re so courageous.

“People fear me so much these days that few dare anymore.”

He pushed the door open and glanced up into the darkened stairway before turning back with an expectant grin.

Lilitha glowered into his hateful face, tears of loathing glistening along her eyelashes. “How did you know?”

“I have eyes everywhere.” He shrugged. “Made easy by the fact that your father recognized your picture and advised us about you. I saw you. We all saw you. In the shadows.

“You’re not nearly as crafty as you think you are. Don’t feel bad about it, you’re not the first to fail to kill me, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.” He brushed the hair out of her eyes.

“I must say though, it’s nice to stir such passions in such a lovely murderess. It’s going to be a shame to throw you to the monsters once I’m done.”

She stumbled behind him up the narrow staircase, her wrist throbbing in his merciless grip. Reaching the door at the end of the hall, he unlocked it and flung her inside.

She tumbled to the floor. A lantern burned on the cabinet by the door, casting the room in flickering light.

Mandalay locked the door behind him and watched as she lurched to her feet and backed away, clutching her wrist to her chest. She brushed past the bed toward the windows.

“What gets me is what you planned once you completed your deed—as though you ever could.” His blue eyes searched her face. “Or was it simply your plan to die?”

Lilitha didn’t answer.

“Have no fear; you’ll soon get your wish. As for the moment, this doesn’t need to be such a terrible thing. It could be a very nice thing—if you let it be.”

She reached the wall and fumbled around behind her, searching desperately for the window. Finding the sashes, she spun around.

She fought hard against the latch, yanked and pulled and twisted with her good hand, but it was no use.

She turned back.

Mandalay stood motionless by the door, watching her, eyes reflecting the glow from the lantern. He hung the key on a hook by the door.

His blue eyes pinned Lilitha to the spot as he shrugged off his cloak and began unbuttoning his tunic. She wanted to run, but her legs were rooted to the floor. He swept his tunic aside. Lightly scarred, his chest was heavily muscled and gleamed almost as brightly as his hair in the lantern light.

The floor seemed to rock beneath her as he unbuckled his belt. He pulled it free with a snap, and his britches dropped to the floor. “Ready for this?”

Lilitha didn’t bother to answer, gritting her teeth, fighting against her terror as she tried not to see what stood between his legs.

His grin slipped, eyes turning glassy as they darted over her body. He stepped toward her, and something ignited in Lilitha’s brain. The door—it was her only option.

As she rushed across the room, Mandalay whipped out an arm. She tried to dodge him, but he was too fast, catching her around the waist and heaving her clean off the floor.

Lilitha screamed as he threw her onto the bed. He jumped in after her, straddling her and pinning her arms above her head just like before. She cried out as he squeezed her wrist.

“As I said, this doesn’t need to be bad. This could be a wonderful thing. You might as well enjoy it; you’re not going to get away. What do you say?”

Lilitha thrashed in his grip. She screamed and screamed until Mandalay sank his fingers deep into her wrist bones and she cried out in pain.

“I could really hurt you,” he warned quietly.

Lilitha shut her mouth, turning her head away with a gasp.

He released her arms. Lilitha didn’t move or make a sound as he kissed her on the side of her throat and began uncinching her cloak. She stared toward the bedside table in disbelief.

There was a little knife. Just there. Right out in the open. A letter opener by the look of it, the lamplight flickering against the blade. Clearly forgotten or unnoticed.

Or perhaps he thought she didn’t have the nerve.

He grabbed her face and leaned in to kiss her on the mouth, his golden ponytail draping over his left shoulder. His tongue found hers and she met his kiss.

His blue eyes looked into hers, and Lilitha looked back, hoping and praying he didn’t see the scheme in her gaze.

“Knew you’d be smart about this,” he breathed, touching her cheek with a smile.

He sat up, knees on either side of her hips, his erection stretched out along her belly, huge and long and ugly. She’d never seen one before, and it looked as scary as she’d imagined.

It was suddenly hard to breathe. Her heart was racing. She dared a second glimpse of the letter opener.

Only one chance.

Pushing up her skirts, he dragged his fingers along the inside of her thigh until he reached her underwear. Lilitha held her breath, bracing herself, as he slid his hand inside.

She glanced again at the knife. He was unexpectedly gentle as he stroked her. Then he drove his finger deep inside, right up to the knuckle, and Lilitha sat up with a cry.

“Feel good?” he grinned.

He yanked at her hips, positioning her properly. Lilitha’s heart was galloping. Her mouth filled with bile. She tried to pin her legs together, but Mandalay wrenched them open.

Her nerve finally failed her, and she thrashed and screamed.

“Let me go! Let me go! LET ME GO!”

She tried to bring up her knee, aiming for his groin, but was in the wrong spot. She threw a desperate punch, but he caught her hand and pinned it to the bed. He did the same with the other.

She screamed again, gnashed her teeth, screamed some more, then started to cry.

“What’s the matter?” he said. “I thought you were tough.”

She slumped beneath him, tears coursing down her cheeks. His mouth curved into a sympathetic frown.

“It will hurt the first time, I will not lie,” he said gently, “and probably the second time too, but I promise you that by morning, I will have you screaming my name.”

Lilitha whimpered as he pressed his lips softly against hers. She sucked in a breath at his deep, hard thrust.

All thoughts of the letter opener, of Mandalay’s murder, of Clara’s suffering, vanished beneath the pain. Mandalay seemed to disappear, his face like a reflection, fading behind ripples of pain.

She squeezed her eyes shut, losing herself to the agonizing red behind her eyelids.

He slid his arms around her shoulders, and she opened her eyes again. Droplets of sweat beaded his hairline; his golden skin glistened.

His eyes were glazed over as though he wasn’t really seeing her at all.

She tried to move along with him, but it was no use. Swept up in his own pleasure, Mandalay arched his neck, and Lilitha cried out as he plunged deeper.

The back of the bed was thudding against the wall. The timber slats were squeaking. Then he closed his eyes, lines of pleasure deepening around his mouth and eyes.

~Now!~

Lilitha reached for the knife. It felt so small in her fist, so feeble. Wildly, she stabbed out. Clapping a hand to his face, the knight flung himself away with a blood-curdling roar.

Staggering about the room, he bounced against walls, the furniture, and drove his fist through a wall before collapsing to his knees.

Clutching weakly at his face, he sagged to the floor with a tearful moan. Lilitha dropped the knife and raced toward the door.

Dizzy and sick, everything a blur, she snatched the key from the hook. She tried to insert it into the lock but was shaking so violently she kept missing and dropping it.

Behind her, Mandalay was bellowing in pain. Lilitha didn’t dare look back.

After what felt like a dozen attempts, she steadied the key with both hands and heard a click. She threw open the door and almost crashed into a man standing on the threshold. He was dressed in a nightcap and holding a candle. Probably the innkeeper.

“What’s—” His eyes widened. The candlelight wavered at his sharp intake of breath.

Lilitha shoved past him, hard enough that she knocked him off his feet. He yelped. The candle snuffed out. She flew down the darkened steps and crashed through the front door.

When she had left the inn far behind, she slowed her pace and dissolved into the shadows, panting and weeping. The streets were mostly empty except for a stray cat banging around in some rubbish.

There was a stitch in her side. She felt dizzy and numb, and the air was so cold it made her lungs ache.

She gasped in tearful breaths. What was she supposed to do? Where was she supposed to go? She hadn’t planned this far ahead. She’d planned to either be captured or dead, not somewhere in between.

She certainly couldn’t go home. She had no friends. No one to help her. Only enemies everywhere. Including her father.

She had reached the edge of town before she finally heard shouting and the sound of horses. Heart pounding furiously, she turned to look behind her, but the streets were empty.

She turned back ahead. The forest stood tall and mysterious and utterly, utterly dark.

Wild animals, dark magic; demons and monsters.

No water. No food. No weapons. No plan. Only her cloak to keep her warm.

At the sound of more shouting, she lurched ahead.