A dual pov narrative from both main characters-Loki and Annalise. If you enjoy slow burn, immersive stories, with a good plot and the long awaited spice, then stop your search. Here is the story for you!
As the newly crowned king of Jotunheim, Loki...
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The sudden sound of footsteps outside my door jolts me awake from my nightmares. I scramble over to the makeshift toilet, the bucket in the corner of the room, ready to tip the putrid contents over myself should Tarryd dare to enter.
Since the last time I resorted to this desperate tactic, Tarryd took longer to pay me a visit, but he eventually came back, armed with guards to scrub me down.
I fought them off, slinging excrement like a feral animal, determined to keep Tarryd and his guards at bay. It didn't take long before they'd had enough. The sight and smell were so overpowering that even his guards begged for mercy, and Tarryd, unable to endure the intoxicating stench, ordered the cell doors to close, leaving me be.
Though my act of smothering myself in the bucket's foul contents is deemed disgusting, it's proven highly effective. I'll continue to use this strategy to keep Tarryd's hands off my body, to protect myself from his lustful thoughts that seek to claim my virtue.
The sound of keys rattling in the locks fills me with dread, and I quickly prepare myself, lifting the bucket over my head. As the door swings open, it's not Tarryd I see, but the smirking Bastion - a roamer I've come to know all too well, one who delights in tormenting me at every opportunity.
His fingers twist around a large hose, and before I can comprehend what's happening, I hear him shout, "Now!" and a powerful blast of water comes surging towards me. The bucket flies from my hands, and I find myself choking, unable to catch my breath, drowning under the relentless torrent as it pins me against the hard wall.
In a desperate attempt to escape the onslaught, I twist my body to face the wall, but the moment the water hits my back, I let out a blood-curdling scream. The recent lashings have barely healed, leaving my skin raw and vulnerable. With the full weight of the high pressure water, it strips away the congealed blood that had held the wounds closed, ripping them back open.
"Stop! Please, stop!" I manage to gurgle, the searing pain excruciating, like acid eating through my flesh. I feel my knees growing weak, the freezing cold water penetrating to the bone, making my brittle frame creak and groan.
Over the deafening gush of the water and my own agonized cries, I hear the dark chuckles of Tarryd, delighting in my torment. "Keep going," his cruel voice commands, spurring on my tormentors. Before I can utter another plea for mercy, I feel my eyes rolling back, my body growing limp as the room fades to black.
