In the Shadow of the Goddess (Book 1 of The Fallen Gods Trilogy)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

In the faint lantern light, Jill took stock of her surroundings. Hard uneven floor. Scratchy blankets. Straw bed off to the side. Disappointment twinned with bewilderment gripped her as everything glared hideously back at her. She was still at the Hangman's Rest and still in Dolmar.

The pounding continued. The door shook. Was it Perren, there to remind her how unworthy she was to be Arianie's Chosen? Or Brexten, back from his latest conquest?

Fear gave way to irritation. She shoved aside blankets with an annoyed kick and tossed a tunic over the frilly nightgown Vashe had packed. She hurled open the door.

"What is it?"

Whatever else she might have said scattered from her mind as she looked up at the beast of a man looming in the doorway. He towered over her, a mass of muscle verging on fat. Wiry black hair covered his face, arms, and what she could see of his chest.

"I..." Her voice faltered. "I think you have the wrong room."

He stood less than a foot away and this close, the man reeked of onions, beer, sweat, and smoke. He leered down from an incredible height, taking in both her and the empty room. Jill clutched at her tunic and crossed her arms over her breasts when his gaze lingered.

"Don't think so, sweetheart. Looks like I found the right one."

"This is my room. I suggest you head somewhere else and keep looking." Her hands felt clammy. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

She shoved the door closed—or tried to, but the man used his foot to stop it. He gripped the doorhandle and with a single thrust, tore it out of her hand and sent the door thumping back into the solid bed frame. The upper hinge broke on impact to leave the door hanging.

"I said this is my room. Get out or I'll scream!"

Unconcerned, he took three steps forward, forcing Jill back inside. "Just one little girl all alone in here? Didn't you hear? The old Hangman don't have room enough for everyone. Some got to share. That'd be us—you and me—doing the sharing."

"I'm not sharing anything with you! Get out! Somebody help!"

He laughed. "No one's coming. No one'd believe you didn't want this. You were practically begging for it earlier."

Jill backed away until her shoulders touched the far wall. "Begging for it? Are you delusional? This is crazy. Oh my God, oh my God, get away from me! Get out! Don't come any closer!"

"Can't two people ride out the storm together?" he asked, laughing.

"I'm with friends and they'll—"

"Friends? You mean the skinny boy bedding down with the horses or the pretty one who'd like to put more than his hand up the serving wench's skirt and barely looked at you? Not to worry, sweetheart. I'll take real good care of you."

She froze. She could barely move let alone think about evading him. Yet a tiny rational part of her couldn't help but be outraged. Abandoned. Raped. Murdered. How ludicrous it seemed! How impossible that circumstances play out this way.

"Get out of here! Somebody help me! Please!" she cried, her hands rising to ward him away, tear streaking down her cheeks. God, is this the best that I'm capable of? Am I this pathetic?

One of his hands snaked out and caught both her wrists in a single grab. He unbuttoned his pants with the other hand. He laughed and slammed her into the wall, lifting her wrists over her head. "You little slut, playing coy after the looks you gave at supper. You had every man there moaning with his hands in his pockets before the soup was even served!"