Thunder rolled across the land, a low rumble that warned of an impending storm. Aribelle stood, and Dru tensed, not prepared for the pain that would come when the beast decided it was time to play with her food.
“Yes, well, at least you will be able to rut like a bitch in heat in privacy. I mean honestly, if only I was a few minutes later arriving, I would have had to bear witness to what you’re willing to do for a few pieces of silver,” Aribelle said with a derisive laugh.
A part of Dru was getting increasingly desperate to see Wren slap Aribelle so hard that spit would come flying out of her mouth and leave her swollen and stuck drooling on herself for a week. Unfortunately for all of them, Aribelle was the type of foe you could only defeat by cunning and stealth. A physical fight would only end in claws and fangs, neither of which Dru or Thame had, and Wren was too appalled by them to use her own.
Aribelle hummed low in her throat thoughtfully; her head cocked as she stared at the bindings on both Thame and Dru.
“Tarja, if you would, darling,” Aribelle said, gesturing the woman to come forward. “I’d like them in something that is less tied-up-for-a-good-time and more that-is-a-good-boy.”
Again, a warmth rushed over Dru, like he just dipped himself in a hot bath, as Tarja’s magic swept over him. The rope melted away, only to be replaced with iron manacles with a thick linked chain that attached to the shackles that appeared on his feet. A thick leather collar squeezed his neck uncomfortably, but not enough to cut off his air supply; a thin silver chain connected to a hoop on the center of the collar at the base of his throat and Tarja held the other end. With what felt like a whirlwind blast of air, Dru and Thame were both on their feet, chained and collared, each with their own leash.
“Don’t they just make your mouth water?” Aribelle asked with a faux dreamy sigh.
“Oh, yes, Alpha. I look at them and am not quite sure what exactly I’m looking at. Bedmate or snack? Either way promises a delicious treat,” Tarja agreed, licking her lips.
With a sharp jerk of the chains, Aribelle beckoned them closer.
“Come now, boys, it’s time for some answers,” Aribelle said as she led them to the door.
Dru narrowed his eyes at her back, his jaw and fists clenched in undignified fury.
“What, you don’t want us to crawl too?” Dru spat from behind.
Aribelle turned to him, one thin brow raised as she smiled widely.
“What a marvelous idea. Yes, yes, I do,” Aribelle said, looking at the ground expectantly.
Dru continued to glare at the beast before him until an agonizing pain radiated throughout his body, dropping him to his knees. The pain abruptly stopped, and through the tears that had welled in his eyes, Dru saw Thame kneeling beside him. Another sharp yank of the chain had both brothers on all fours, with their only options being to crawl or be dragged through the dirt.
“From now on, keep your mouth shut,” Thame griped from beside him.
“At least I have a backbone, brother, and stood up for us both. The only thing you have standing up is your cock, as usual,” Dru snarled.
“Quiet, my pets, or there’ll be muzzles,” Aribelle said serenely as she forced them to crawl on the hard ground all the way to her cabin.
Making sure that Aribelle was not looking, Dru turned and mouthed to Thame, “This bitch needs to die.”
Nine: The Prick
“My beauty, come quickly, we have found an intruder in the forest.”
“But, Momma, I don’t want to kill them anymore.”
“Morning, boys!” Aribelle called cheerfully as she walked around to the back of her cabin.
Dru awoke with a start and began to sob loudly, his body trembling with the knowledge of what was to come. For the past three days, Aribelle had been cruel, relentless in her ploy to get answers from them. Thame looked at her without an ounce of trepidation, showing no outward sign that the past few days were a hellish nightmare.
And they were, but not because she beat him bloody, or because she sank her dagger into his flesh many times over. No, they were a nightmare because Dru had to witness it all, screaming his bloody head off, thinking that Thame would die no matter the magical healing that Tarja performed. Dru had started off strong, not wavering in his conviction to remain loyal to their kingdom and not say a word about why they were in Jurot. But Thame could see his resistance waning. Dru would cave if he had to take one more day of Thame’s suffering.
Thame had tried to soothe Dru’s worries. Yes, it hurt quite a bit, but the healing magic numbed him for a bit too, so he faked many screams lest they caught on to that particular fact. The truth of the matter, however, is that Thame understood Aribelle’s actions. He, too, would be trying to torture information out of intruders, and he would do it ruthlessly. The real problem he was having right now was understanding why Dru had already lost all hope.
“Please don’t hurt him anymore,” Dru howled in misery.
Aribelle smiled as she walked towards them, inspecting their hands as she did every morning. Their hands were raised high above their heads, their manacles linked through a closed loop on the post, and were left standing on the balls of their feet every night. In the mornings, Aribelle would let them down, as she did now, and hook the chain connected to their collars to a hoop close to the ground to allow them to sit for their torture session.
“Not to worry, Druas. I won’t lay a finger on Thamyris today,” Aribelle said brightly.
Thame’s stomach dropped as the world seemed to pause. The breath froze in his lungs, his heart skipped a beat, and for a moment he thought he would faint. He shared a look with Dru that had Aribelle cackling.
“Goddess, save us! She knows!” Aribelle screeched theatrically. “We’re going to die! She’ll kill us, Goddess, please! Have mercy!”
Thame fought back a smile. This woman really was like no other he had ever met. She was completely insane and a total bitch, but he couldn’t help but admire her beauty, her strength, and the way that every so often he swore he saw a whole other –slightly more humane—side beneath the cutthroat beast she was. Even now, knowing that she had two princes as her prisoners, she didn’t care and would continue to do as she pleased, consequences be damned.
As Aribelle continued her theatrical performance, Thame watched a ghost of a smile on his lips. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail with a few thin braids that were fastened with small red feathers. She wore a crimson bustier with black lace trimmings, a black cloak that a secured beneath her breasts by a leather belt, and her wide-legged trousers flared near the ground covering her heeled boots. She was breathtakingly stunning as far as Thame was concerned.
“We do not pray to the Goddess, just so you know. We still believe in the gods,” Thame said in a bored tone.
Aribelle’s head cocked in an eerie manner as she glared at him. Thame was confident that this tactic worked on many others, probably scaring the piss out of grown men, but he was not one of them. All he wanted to do was grab her, perhaps shake some of the bitchiness out of her, then kiss her senseless until she cared about nothing more than his arms around her. He chose instead to bare his teeth, part smile, but also part challenge as a storm brewed in Aribelle’s expressive blue eyes.
“You think I am amused?” Aribelle hissed. “Why have the princes of Vildaheim come to sniff around?”