TRIGGER WARNING : Sexual Assault
Gale's scream was muffled by his palm, smelling of sweat and rain and metal tang.
Her fingernails scrabbled on the back door of the stables, leading to the inn where Master Cal would be. Master Cal would help, if she could just reach him—
He pulled her back. Her hands fell flat against the wooden floor. Desperation welled in another scream. He hit her behind an ear. She fell like a ragdoll. Dazed, dizzy, helpless as the kitten she was named for.
He whispered horrifying things in her ear, things echoing in her memories of the moment which ruined her life more than she'd ever thought possible. His free hand travelled her body and left cold sweat in its wake. His uneven fingernails scraped her shuddering skin, warm rain dripping from his hair to her face.
Why won't anyone help me?
It fell from her mind and landed square in the region of conscious thought. An answer lay waiting, deep in the part of her that hid her bitterness.
No one wants to. I rely on myself.
She grasped that thought, and her disorganized plucking at his hands as he flipped her over turned resolute.
Her hands moved with a purpose, reaching for his manhood. She found it, cringed in disgust and terror, and then squeezed as hard as she could with digging nails. He squealed like the pig he was and keeled over with hands clawed around his injured member.
She panted with adrenaline and sheer terror, eyes as wide as saucers. Some of Maelis Corrik's instruction returned to her, and she used her hips and hands to shove him off of her before rolling away toward the aching promise of freedom beyond the wide stable entrance, the broad doors standing open as curtains of rain dribbled from the roof.
That's not how it happened last time. I can change it!
She could have cried with happiness, had she thought she could summon anything but a whimper at the moment.
His hands caught her ankle, and she fell flat to her face hard enough for her teeth to click and her chin to smart from a skinning.
Not real. Not real. Notrealnotrealnotrealnot...Her thoughts gibbered and bubbled into incoherency. Anger reared against its reins. Why should he get to hurt me like this?!
She glared over her shoulder at him in seething fury, kicking out with her legs, and saw him grimacing in pain. He was recovering. Vengeance seemed to be lending him strength. Her heart sank and her fearful determination to escape turned to dreadful certainty. This was the part she remembered most.
Her kick would fly too wide, he would catch her leg, and then—
Her foot glanced off of his head, throwing her leg to the side with her weight behind it, and he wrapped an arm around it to hold it against his chest. A quick jerk backward proved he was stronger than her by far.
Not real! She was babbling, false reassurances she didn't believe. She didn't want to relive it. To use her magic on him would mean his death. A death that hurt for the guilt and satisfaction it lent her.
His sneer turned sickly, the red in his face lessened. He pulled her closer. She shrank into herself out of helpless fear, instinctively withdrawing into the safety of her own mind.
But she had to.
Because she was, first and foremost, a mage.
No longer a slave girl. Never again a meek, obedient kitten.
YOU ARE READING
Sun's Heart
Fantastik***This book has been stolen by a predatory site without my consent, including the cover I made, this blurb, and all chapter contents within. I will no longer be uploading chapters. I will not feed the site in question more of my content. However, i...
