Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
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I pinched the flesh between my teeth and bit down hard.
Varen barked a curse and tore his hand from my mouth, shaking the pain away.
"Let me go—you cheating, lumbering oaf!" I bellowed, struggling against the arm banded around my waist. My feet dangled off the ground because he was so godsdamned tall. I kicked back, hitting his shin with my heels. Scratching at his bare arm with my fingernails. Writhing and striking out like a rabies-infected cat, practically howling with the need to draw blood.
Varen cursed low once more and dropped me. I broke free, darting forward, and moved deeper into the narrow room wrapped in darkness. A stab of pain jarred up my foot as my toes kicked metal and when I stumbled against the hard edge of a shelf, pain cracked up my shoulder. I let out a startled cry. Like dominoes, an eruption of sound filled the space—the clang and jingling of metal, hollow thuds of plastic, ringing of glass—as buckets, bottles, and jars tipped over and rolled along the shelves or hit the floor.
Yellow light suddenly flooded the room. I drew in a breath of stale air infused with bleach and fake floral chemicals. We were in a utility cupboard with cleaning products lining shelves, and brooms and mops leaning against the wall or standing tall in metal buckets.
I whirled around and faced Varen. He stood in front of the door, his hand poised at the light switch, the hilts of twin swords poking over his shoulders. Long, lank locks fell around his face and shadowed his furrowed forehead. The room's dim light deepened the somber lines around his wary eyes—deep purple eyes that were narrowed on me.
Dragging my furious gaze over the bandoleer across his chest, I dropped my line of sight to the daggers strapped to his thighs. He looked like a homeless man—albeit armed to the teeth—in his filthy, fire-pocked suit. Tens of thousands of dollars worth of clothing was utterly ruined. He certainly didn't look like the heir of Lower House Crowther—an heir for freaks sake!
Giving into riotous wrath, I let it soar through my blood like a blustering typhoon that drove cruel gusts of wind before it. I stormed toward him and hissed, "Get out of my way!"
He held his palms out as if to placate a wild animal. Me. I was the wild animal. I sounded like one too with the jagged breaths I huffed out. I bared my teeth. Every inch of my body was knotted tightly, my fists raised, ready for fight or flight.
He barred the way out with his formidable size. "Hear me out."
I rushed him and shoved at his massive upper arm, trying to push him aside. "Let me out of here!"
He grabbed hold of my wrist and I slapped at his hand. "Calm down. Take a second to just breathe, and listen."
As if I was going to listen to anything this asshole said to me.
Then my eyes flew wide and I sucked in a shocked breath when I realized I'd gone one more step further with my cursing. He was such a freaking bad influence. Hellsgate, right now who the hells cared—he was an asshole!
