The King (Zolan Book 3) ✓

9

DIONNE

I've never been more terrified in my life. Not when I was crushing on Trey and we crossed paths at the workplace. Not when I was teleported to Zolan. Not when I first made eye-contact with the seven-foot, red, furious, farmer that rippled with muscle and power.

As I sit between his sturdy thighs, I fully encompass terror. Because I'm not only afraid for myself, but for Vadnar. If anything happens to him, I'd be destroyed. I found heaven and hell in his arms; in his eyes. He burns me from head to toe with want, empties my lungs and fills my mind with daydreams. Passion burns like an inferno in my chest when he smiles at me. But when he's gentle with me; when kindness seeps out from between his mighty muscles, I'm in heaven.

He told me he'll get us out of here, and I trust him, but there's no guarantee he won't get hurt in the process. These slavers are determined to own us. I don't even know if Trey is still alive.

It's dark in the back of this cart. The only bits of light I see are in the corners, and in the glints of our kidnappers's eyes. We're traveling through a town. I can hear the chatter of townspeople and the calling of animals. I could scream, but what good would that do? Vadnar told me masters are feared and unwelcomed. I doubt they would come to our rescue, especially with me in tow.

Vadnar is stiff. His chest rises and falls faster than it does at night when he's laying in bed. I know, because I tune into his soft breathing to lull me to sleep. This isn't how I wanted to lay on his chest for the first time, but I have more important things to do than lament the past. I need to focus. To survive.

After hours of riding in the cart, my ass becomes numb, and there's a dull ache in my lower back. When we come to a halt in the dead of night, I perk my head.

Did we arrive at the colosseum already?

The men jump out of the cart. The one that I stabbed in the thigh struggles to keep his balance. Vadnar killed many of them, but the shock of the violence is being smoldered by adrenaline. My heart had been racing because I thought Vadnar was going to kiss me. Now, it races for different reasons. I know he killed because he had to, but the memories of the bloodshed will follow me forever.

Outside, I see trees. Vadnar inhales deeply, probably trying to sense where we are since he's blindfolded.

"Forest," I whisper.

The men empty the cart and pull the cloak off the cart. I can feel Vadnar slightly shifting as he fights his restraints, but they're bound so thickly it will take all night to break free. Being watched doesn't help.

A man stands guard in front of the cart, watching us closely. Vadnar is getting agitated because there's no opening to escape.

The ringleader feeds the animals, sharpens his sword, and falls asleep against the tree by the fire. The other men rest, too, but there's always one that's keeping watch. I don't sleep, and neither does Vadnar.

"Don't try anything," he whispered. I'm surprised by how much the sound of his voice comforts me.

Early in the morning, we're covered under the tarp, and rolled through bumpy roads. We don't stop again. For hours, we're crouched in the same position. The kidnappers seem to become more fidgety wherever we so much as shift a foot. They threaten and order us to stay still.

When we stop for the first time in hours, I'm dragged by my legs away from Vadnar, who growls so powerfully the cart trembles.

I blurt, "I'm here!" before he loses control.

They drag him out next, stepping on his feet so he can't kick out at them. He's disoriented and feral, the darkness driving him mad.

"Vadnar!" I call for him, afraid they'll hurt him.