Set Me Free

The Deal

Sofia

I stand in the front yard area of his cabin. There's a small patch of lush green grass and the shade of tons of old growth trees and a wrap around porch. It is ramshackle, old and jumbled together, but there is a certain charm about it, a certain earthy comfort. I don't tell him this, or even show any interest, but when he's focused on something else, I allow my eyes to wander.

I am chained to the porch railing, in a patch of bright spring sunshine. My throat is still tight with tears, and every time I feel the sting of his belt—the reminder of what he just did to me—I am almost overcome once more with sobs. Echoing through the dense forest is the sound of wood being split with utter precision.

I glance over at him, shirtless, his belt back in place, mocking me. He kicks aside the split wood, covered in a sheen of glistening sweat, his hair pulled back. Readying another log, waiting until it's steady, he brings the heavy axe back and high above his head, stretching his torso taut. As he brings it down with a resounding thud and splits the wood, his biceps bulge.

With a sinking feeling, I know my chances for escape are slim. I back away as the sun hides behind scuttling clouds, shivering without its warmth. My butt hits the edge of the deck, and I wince and hiss. It was a stupid move, throwing food like that, especially now that my head pounds and my stomach gurgles. I am much too embarrassed to ask him for food after all that.

I should be feeling better—his comment about me being just a kid somehow assuaged my fears that he won't force me into his bed with him. But I feel like I can't trust him. I've been led astray before, and I don't need to be acting naive around someone as dangerous as him.

He kicks aside more split wood, but instead of grabbing another log, he stands straight, his menacing eyes snapping to the dirt road that leads to the cabin. Tensing, I back away, shrinking behind the post that holds up the roof over the porch.

"Fuck me," he growls, raising the axe and burying it in the wide stump. His eyes flash to mine, worry lines crinkling his forehead and around his pale green eyes. I hear it, then; the sound of tires on gravel.

Hands on his wide hips, he jerks his chin to the porch.

"Get on up there, girly. I tell ya to get inside, ya best be listenin'," he says in his gravelly, deep voice. Fear coursing through my veins, I obey as I scramble up the few porch steps and linger by the door, thankful my chains allow me so much movement. My heart clenches. As afraid as I am of him, I am more afraid of the unknown.

Soon, a sleek black sports car with deeply tinted windows rolls into view, coming to a stop with the tires just on the lawn. I watch his eyes as they narrow in anger. A man in a business suit exits the car, a file folder in his hands. He is tall but slim, and as he peels off his dark shades, I can see that he is also afraid of the beast.

"Braxton Stone?"

My gut clenches. So that's this monster's name.

"Present," he grunts, striding forward. The man's pale brown eyes flash to me as my chains shift. I try to tug the hem of his shirt down further, to cover more of my bare thighs. His eyes linger, drinking me in, and he smirks.

Braxton stands before him, cutting off his view of me, and I breathe a silent sigh of relief. There's something...creepy, about him. The beast crosses his bulging arms, staring down the man, making him look much, much smaller.

"Andrus Levi, VP of the Trenches. Have some files on your prize here," he says, holding out the files to Braxton. He grunts something, uncrossing his arms to take the folder.

"You were hard to track down, sir," the man says as Braxton backs away a step. I hear his snort, watch as the muscles of his back ripple and coil like a tight spring. His deep, russet hued skin is beautiful, out here in the fleeting sunshine. So unlike any other Erathian I have seen.

"Let's keep it that way," Braxton says, pointing the file at Andrus briefly. A clear warning. I shiver at his dominating tone. Andrus laughs it off, but the sound is weak and nervous—just like him.

"No problem, Mr. Stone. A few things before I go," he says hurriedly as Braxton turns to leave. He pauses, fists clenching at his sides.

"Get on with it," he growls.

"Your slave has been registered under the Trenches trademark. We still have ownership of her. She may be confiscated at any time we deem fit, but those instances are highly unlikely. You will return her in three months, before the next rounds of fights begin. She's had her shots, and Ledinia has outlawed birth control and any surgeries to prevent procreation."

My mouth runs dry, my eyes snapping from the man to Braxton's rigid back. Shots? Birth control? What the hell are they talking about? Braxton rubs at his hairy jaw, shaking his head.

"Figured as much," he grumbles. The man smirks.

"There's something to sweeten that deal, however. You impregnate her, you keep her. No questions asked."

Fear trickles down my spine, making it hard to breathe, even in this fresh air. Pregnant? No, no no no! What if...what if that tempts him? I know how babies are made...kinda...but still! I listened one night while a woman in our small band of humans gave birth—and it is not something I ever want to go through.

"Really now?" Braxton says, and I can hear the humor—the intrigue—in his voice. My jaw clenches tight at the prospect of him getting me with child. I couldn't—wouldn't! The slick man Andrus chuckles, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, really. Pretty sweet new law they just voted in."

Braxton's whole frame is wracked with a bout of tremors. Is he...excited? He taps the folder to his other hand in thought.

"I'll keep that in mind. See ya in three months."

His tone is dark, cutting off conversation as he turns and mounts the steps. The sun disappears once more, casting him and I in a deep shadow. It makes me feel safer—away from that man's gaze. I shrink away from Braxton, though, when he reaches out to me. He pauses, his eyes studying my face. With the wooden outer wall at my back, I've nowhere to go.

I hear the car door slam, listen as he slowly pulls out and backs down the drive. Braxton closes the distance between us, cupping my chin with a tenderness I didn't think him capable of.

I swallow hard as those eyes pierce my soul, cut me open and flay me. His eyes sweep back to the drive before settling on me again.

"That, girly, is why you need to figure out your attitude with me. Got it?"

Though his warning is cloaked, I understand him better now; he won't force me into that, but if they get their hands on me, they will.

I gulp down my fear. It leaves my knees weak and my stomach churning. He swipes his thumb over my cheek, making a guttural, primal noise at the back of his throat. Finally, a smile cracks his face, lighting up his devastating features.

"Call me Brax, too, fiery fuckin' angel. None of that proper shit, ya hear?"

For some reason, this sentiment warms me—the fact that he has a name he'd rather be called, the simplicity of his little world, of his cabin in the woods. Everything about him is warm and humble. I still feel the bite of his belt across my butt, and it makes me feel a fool for being so rude when he's clearly not like the rest of them.

I nod up at him. His rough thumb brushes my jaw once more before he lets me go. He steps back, craning his neck to peer up at the sky. On cue, a rumble of thunder clashes in the distance, making me jump. He chuckles.

"Best to hunker down, Miss Sofia. Power'll go out sooner than not."

And though I am afraid, something about his strong presence tells me not to be. Even against a raging spring storm, I somehow know he will be able to keep me safe. I bite my cheek as tears pool in my eyes.

If I can't have Josh right now, then maybe Brax will have to do.

A/N: Ooff! Thoughts?! I think Sofia is in for a rude awakening if she doesn't shape up!