The King's Cursed Bride

Protecting Him: Part 3

She slowly withdrew her arm. "Fine. Then do as you will."

The man's nod was curt, all false mirth drained from his lips and eyes, leaving them flat. "Lift you arms, and I'll bind them."

As he approached, Carissa scooted back in the bed until she bumped against Elon. "You won't even allow me to don clothes?"

"Be glad I allow you the decency of a blanket." He stopped by the bed. "But I make take even that away if you persist in resisting me."

After a long moment, Carissa lifted her arms, her wrists pressed together.

He bound them tightly, enough to make her wince. There'd be no escaping these bonds without either Elon or a knife. But at least she could still fight. If she stood behind him, she could slip her bound arms over his neck to choke him, and—

He lifted her bound hands above her head.

She tensed. "What are you doing?"

"Tying your hands to the headboard." After he finished, he stood back.

Carissa gave an experimental tug. Her wrists remained fastened to the headboard, a few inches behind her.

As he stared down at her, a smug smile on his lips, she felt fear trickle through her. It soon evaporated in a roaring blaze of anger. How dare he bind her in such a shameful state? As soon as she was free, she was going to kill him. Her fingers itched for the dagger handle just thinking about it.

The man chuckled hollowly. "If your passion is as fiery as your glare, I can see why your man would keep you for a toss in the sheets."

She gritted her teeth hard to keep from replying as the man rounded the bed and bound Elon in a similar manner. Then he strode over to the table and shoved it to the side before prying up the floorboards beneath it. A cellar?

The man glanced up at her. "It's been a long trip, so I'm going to get some food for myself. Be good while I'm gone."

Carissa nodded at her bound hands. "It's not like I can do anything anyhow."

The man merely smirked before disappearing beneath the floorboards. A thud, followed by a soft grunt, announced his landing.

Carissa slipped one leg out from beneath the covers and tried to coax the dagger out from beneath Elon's clothes. Her toes brushed the cold metal. She slipped her other leg out as well. Somehow, she'd have to pick the dagger up with her feet—ideally without cutting herself.

Something creaked—a ladder, perhaps? That meant the man was returning.

Carissa slid the dagger beneath the bed and lay back, rearranging the blanket over herself.

A crate appeared as the man shoved it onto the floor. He ascended as well, his gaze darting to Carissa.

She scowled at him. "We're not Reapers, you know. You have no right to keep us here."

He shrugged and pried open the crate. "If you trespass on my property, you're at my mercy. If you didn't want to be at my mercy, you shouldn't have trespassed."

"We didn't know anyone was home! This room was in complete disarray, there was leftover food on the table, the cabinets were filled with nothing but dust—"

He shrugged. "I left it like that intentionally. Should any Reaper, such as yourself, have happened upon my cabin while I was away, they'd assume it was abandoned and leave it alone."

"Which we would have done, as soon my husband recovered."

He shrugged. "You shouldn't have trespassed."