The King's Cursed Bride

Betrayed

She tried to smooth her frantic breathing. "Then what do you want?" The question was foolish, of course. But she needed to buy herself time.

His thumb skimmed her neck, hovering over her pulse. "You. And I'll have you."

Her lip curled. "I'd sooner die."

His chuckles stirred a dark fear within her. "You lie." He bent so close she could smell the sweet, musky scent of wine on his breath. "You'll come to me, and you'll be begging." He pressed hard on her pulse, until her head felt hot and heavy. Would he accost her in the street? "What happens next will be made all the sweeter by your desperation."

Despite the tightening of her stomach, laughter burst from her lips. He expected her to willingly come to him? To even beg? "Then you are more a fool than I first thought."

His slap came hard and heavy, with the force of a bucking stallion. Pain burst across her face and stars across her vision as her palms met the street. Fire lanced across her burnt cheek, and against her will, tears surged to her eyes.

He dragged her upward by the front of her dress, and the collar of her dress dug into the back of her neck. "You insult me again, and I'll ensure our night together causes you more pain than necessary."

She stood on her tiptoes, so her dress wouldn't become a noose. If she screamed, would the neighbors come? Would they care? Her gaze snagged on movement behind the man. Garma peered through the window, her eyes glazed with fascination as she watched the scene.

Carissa screamed, "Garma! Help!"

Garma disappeared from the window just before her stalker followed her gaze. He turned back to her with a snarl. "Stop trying to distract me. It won't work." He shook her.

Her head snapped back and forth. The seams popped in her dress, and a button plopped to the dirt beneath them. The frail thread in her collar wasn't meant to hold most of her weight.

Suddenly, he released her, and she sagged to the ground in a heap. Without a button, the front corner of her dress lolled open, baring the skin beneath her collarbone. She clasped it against her chest and glared up at the man, though her bones quivered beneath her skin. She couldn't stop trembling.

His gaze skimmed her disheveled hair before dropping to her lips, then her sagging collar. His full lips curved. "I'm tempted to have a foretaste of what's to come."

The shaking came harder as her breaths became fast and tight. The neighbors wouldn't lift a finger to help one they deemed a prostitute. Viltus might not return for hours still. The man was going to abuse and torture her in the streets, possibly leaving her to die when he was satiated.

She curled her fingers around a fistful of dirt. No. She hadn't survived a slash on the forearm and burns just so she could die in the street. If no one else would save her, she would save herself.

She expelled a slow breath, forcing a steeliness into her tone she didn't feel. "Go to Esmeray." She tossed the dirt at his face.

He clapped his hands over his eyes and roared.

She shot to her feet before darting down the alley, only to stop short as he snatched a fistful of her dress. He began dragging her backwards.

She clawed at his hand. "No!"

He wound her hair around his fist and wrenched her head back. Heat pierced her scalp. "I've tried to be patient..." He continued walking down the alley, then turned the corner. He glared at her, his eyes bloodshot from the dirt.