Captured but Waiting
An excerpt from The Vanished Knight
The past couple of weeks have been a bit hectic, requiring a ton of attention behind the scenes. I’ll be making an announcement real soon, but in the meantime, I thought I’d share a quick excerpt from The Vanished Knight.
The scene starts right after a battle and Callan’s capture. Her captor cut open her face and dragged her away from mysterious black-clad soldiers led by Darrion and Gawain just before we pick up with this scene.
Waiting for the Opening
Callan sagged, clutching her jaw. Great. How would the black-clad soldiers help her now?
Her captor released her and she dropped to the floor. His footsteps sounded around her and his scrutiny focused on various parts of her body. She turned her head down and stared at her blood-soaked hands. They shook with rage.
“You’ll be fine if you don’t do anything stupid,” he said.
She snapped up her gaze, preparing to tell him where to stick his bloody comment, but managed to stop herself. What would be the smart thing to do? Keeping silent and biding whatever time she could buy.
His expression became gentler and he crouched before her. “Just do what I say and you’ll do well.”
Callan examined his face. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. Some would even consider him attractive. His icy blue eyes sat just a little too close together. He seemed normal, but the pure malice lurking in his gaze defied description. If she didn’t play along, the cut to her face would be only the beginning.
She shuddered, then dug deep and let her lips quiver. No moisture came to her eyes, though. Her wrath had evaporated any inclination she felt to cry. In the end she bit her tongue.
Hard.
Tears ran down her cheeks and she looked up at her captor, even whimpering for extra effect.
His smug expression melted away. “Don’t cry. It’s over now. Here.”
He lifted the hem of his crimson cloak and dabbed lovingly at her jaw. Every move sent frissons of pain through her face but she didn’t shy away, even though the gentle touches made her sick.
“Look,” he said, “we started off wrong. It’s just that I had to get you. Do you understand?”
Callan hesitated on the answer, but shook her head. She needed the information. “Why?”
His smile sent ice through her veins. “Because you’re mine.”
His? Callan’s gripped her skirt in an attempt to stay still. She stared down at her hands, waiting for the worst of her fury to pass.
The soldiers finished building the barricade, adding to the obstacles between Callan and her rescue.
“Are you going to fight me?” her captor asked.
With every breath she had. She shook her head.
He clasped her hand and pulled her up. Soldiers hurried past and disappeared through a doorway on the other side of the room, lighting ancient torches as they went. He tugged her behind him, holding her hand as if they were sweethearts. Callan followed him into a round room beyond the door, her mind whirring to find ways to use this new development to her advantage. How could he just believe that she would go along with this after he hurt her?
He led her around a thick column until steps came into view. They went up them and Callan frowned. Did the staircase lead to another exit? If not, where the hell were they going? It had to be somewhere, if the rest of the soldiers followed without question.
She cleared her throat. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he said, sending a sappy smile over his shoulder.
Right. Great. Stuck in a tower with a psycho with delusions of love. Callan fingered the injury along her jaw, letting pain shoot into her skull before fading to a burn. The other side of her face answered with throbs. Hopefully the bastard would die slowly.
After thirty minutes, Callan’s feet dragged. She was exhausted, but still they continued. Up, up, up, round and round, and still no sign of an exit. Were Darrion and his soldiers inside the keep yet?
She slowed her pace and put out her free hand to the smooth golden-brown stone. The ice cold surface sent goose bumps up her arm.
Her captor turned around and her heart faltered. He pulled her in close, resting his hands on her hips. “Need a rest?”
Her insides cringed when his finger caressed the side of her face, but she bit back her revulsion. She nodded to break the contact.
“Cold?”
“V-very.”
The bastard drew her to him and pressed his mouth to hers, drawing guffaws from the soldiers passing them.
Oh, hell NO! She wanted to gag. Her hands tangled with his cloak to give her better purchase so she could knee him, but she managed to stop herself. What would happen if she kneed him? Where would she go? Reds blocked every way she could run. As much as she wanted to claw his eyes out, she kissed him back instead. Pain radiated across her face, but she stuck it out until he came up for air.
Deep breaths.
Smile.