by Tracy Lauren
“Don’t challenge me, sir,” I tell the troll, refusing to let a smile cross my lips. “Why are we up so early?”
“We’ve been cooped up too long. I thought we could hunt, check my traps, maybe even fish—but don’t get any ideas about tomorrow’s breakfast,” he warns, feigning brutish authority.
I lose track of our verbal sparring, surprise taking over. “You’re letting me outside?” I ask in shock. I had assumed the troll would keep me locked in his lair for the rest of my life.
“Of course. Besides, you need airing out,” he jibes, a wicked smile softening his hardened features. Perhaps when he smiles I can acknowledge what that fae woman must have seen in him. There’s a rugged handsomeness about the troll that is difficult to deny.
I snort, biting back my laugh. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a real knight in shining armor?”
“I suppose you’ll be the first,” he replies, fastening a rope and various tools to his belt.
“Just don’t hold your breath.”
“I have to around you,” he jokes, covering his nose.
“Gods help me,” I say, shaking my head at him.
The troll moves about the kitchen, beginning to set out two bowls, but he stops midway and replaces one with a cup instead. He serves the porridge into them, leaving the cupful in my place at the table. Everything in his lair being troll-sized, the cup is a much better fit for a human like myself. I almost thank him for being so thoughtful, but I stifle the words.
Shaking myself free from my morning stupor, I focus on the task at hand. He’s taking me out. This is my chance to flee.
We eat quickly and in silence, my mind contemplating the possibility of escape. I consider my options. I could jump into the river and count on it to carry me far enough downstream that I could make it to Willowbend before the troll catches me. Or I could wait until he’s distracted and try to smash him over the head with something…a branch or a large stone perhaps? That idea is less appealing, however. I want to escape, but I don’t necessarily want to hurt the beast. Simply running isn’t an option though. He would catch me in an instant. I’ll just have to bide my time and look for an opportunity, I decide.
“Are you ready, little one?” the troll asks, shaking me from my thoughts.
“Huh? Oh, yes.”
I rise, following him into the tunnel. The door shuts behind me and we are cast into darkness. I press forward, putting my hands on his back so that I might follow him without falling behind or walking square into him. He feels warm and hard under my touch. We walk together for some time. Without warning, the darkness pulls away like a curtain and we step out from the charmed wall under the bridge.
Sunlight blinds me and I blink my eyes, willing them to adjust. My senses are bombarded with the outdoors: the sound of the rushing water, the crispness of the air around me, the fresh scent of the earth and morning dew. Before my eyes can even focus, I feel a tugging at my waist.
“Hey!” I protest, looking down at what my captor is doing. He’s tethering me to him with a rope. “Is that really necessary?”
“Did you have a change of heart? Are you ready to be my slave now, Adelaide?” he asks mockingly.
“No. Of course not.”
“Then yes, it is necessary. I don’t want you to become separated from me. Whether you wish to believe it or not, this is a dangerous wood.”
“So they say,” I reply sarcastically. Though as a slave to a troll, I hardly need to be warned of the dangers of this place. I think I’m already neck deep in them.
“Do you hunt?” he asks as he finishes tying off the rope. Then we set out, walking side by side up the bank.
“I’ve set traps before--for small game.”
“Do you know how to use any weapons? A bow?”
“I can’t say that I do,” I answer, only half focused on the troll. Instead I’m looking around at the woods. In my mind, I’m back on that first day, being chased by orcs. The thought is unnerving and I look for signs that more have been here. I’m no tracker, but there clearly aren’t any signs of an army passing through—no trodden earth, no broken branches, or obviously displaced stones. Still, finding no signs does nothing to put my heart at ease.
“What is it?” the troll asks, stopping to scrutinize my expression.
“Nothing.” I’m quick to reply and quick to avoid his gaze. He huffs at me, sounding unconvinced, but still he presses forward. It isn’t until he’s already on the bridge that I freeze, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Is this some kind of a trick?” I demand.
“Trick?”
“You’re going to get me to cross this bridge and then tell me I owe you something, am I right?”
The grin that crosses his face makes goosebumps run up my arms. He grabs the rope and pulls me in closer to him. I crane my neck to maintain eye contact.
“Is there something of yours I do not already possess?” he asks, his voice low and rumbling.
“I could fill a book with all the aspects of me you do not possess,” I tell him, rolling my eyes. “Now answer me, troll. Is this some kind of a trick?”
A muscle in his neck twitches and his expression turns grim. “There’s no trick,” he says flatly, turning to pull me along. I hurry to keep pace with him, otherwise the rope tugs at my waist.
Sensing a sore spot, I press into him. “Trolls are known for that, you know? Deceiving people—taking more than what they’re due.”
“Tell me all you know about trolls,” he scoffs. I can’t see his face, but I’d bet my last coin he’s rolling his eyes right now too. “That’s just more of your simple-minded, human, egocentricities. All of you, you think you own this world—and the creatures in it.”
“Hah! What a load of hypocrisy! I won’t even point out our little relationship,” I say, tugging at the rope for emphasis. “But look around! You think you can own this bridge out here in the middle of nowhere—blocking a path necessary for weary travelers to cross. Extorting them when they need passage the most!”
“This bridge was built by my people hundreds of years ago and it’s not ‘out in the middle of nowhere.’ It is the gateway to my village.”
I slow to a halt in the middle of the cobbled bridge. “You have a village nearby?” I ask, not hiding the shock in my voice.
“Of course. Why else would I be guarding the bridge?”
“Guarding the bridge?” I echo. I’m flustered. I thought of the troll as a lone beast, lying in wait to prey upon the disadvantaged. To think of him as a guard to his village…to even think of an entire village of trolls… It’s a foreign concept to me. I never imagined that trolls might live the way humans do. I struggle to regain my salty composure. “Some guard. You managed to keep a single human woman at bay. They’ll probably give you a medal for it.”
“When they hear what a monster you’ve been, I’m sure they will.” He tugs me along beside him.
“Yes, I’m terribly sorry I haven’t been a more enthusiastic slave. It must be quite awful for you,” I tell him sourly. He stops in his tracks and I bump into the mountain that is my master.
“What is it?” I ask, suddenly afraid that he’s heard something lurking in the forest around us. The leaves rustle on the breeze and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I inch closer to the troll, eyeing our surroundings. But when I cast my gaze up at him, I see he’s rubbing his forehead. It’s me that has him bothered.
“It is too early for this, woman,” he complains. When I see that worn out look about him, I’m reminded of Aunt Celia and it waters the little poisonous seed in my gut, telling me what an awful creature I am. My defenses prick and I want to say something biting, something that would hurt him in the way that look on his face hurts me. But I stop myself, chewing on my lip instead.
“I’ll offer you a trade, little one. Anything to make this bickering stop, if only for a few hours.”
“Anything?” I ask.
“Almost anything,” he revises, narrowing his
gaze at me.
“Untie this rope.” I won’t be able to escape while tethered to the troll.
“Try again,” he tells me, with a shake of his head. I huff and put my hands on my hips, trying to think of something that might inadvertently help me make my getaway.
“How about this,” the troll says, interrupting my thoughts. “You choose how we spend this morning.”
My mind works to find a loophole…
“Stop it. I know what you’re doing. You will not escape me today, Adelaide. You might as well salvage the morning by choosing to do something you enjoy.”
I frown at him and consider the offer. All this fighting is tiring…and I’ve been doing it for so long, because it didn’t start with the troll. It started when my parents died. Still, it’s hard for me to swallow my pride and answer him.
“This deal won’t last forever, Adelaide,” the troll warns.
“Fine. I suppose we could fish,” I respond finally, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to look unaffected.
“Truly? You want to fish?” the troll asks, sounding surprised.
I shrug. “I like to fish.”
“This isn’t a trick to gather fish heads so you can put them in my bed later or some other unpleasant thing, is it?”
I let a smile creep across my lips. “You shouldn’t give me such wonderful ideas, troll.”
He steps closer to me, invading my space. “Wonderful ideas or naughty ones?” he asks.
“Depends on who’s asking, I guess,” I reply, refusing to cower before him. Instead, I keep my eyes locked on his.
“Be careful, Adelaide. I think I liked bending you over my knee last night. Get in trouble again and I know exactly what kind of punishment I’m going to give you.” The heat in his eyes makes me nervous and I can’t help but wonder if he truly enjoyed spanking me across my bare ass. I also can’t help but feel a little excited by his sexually charged threat. I chalk it up to the fact that it’s been a long time since a man has touched me.
“I’m not scared of you,” I tell the troll, swallowing hard. I try to sound strong, but I can feel a flush creeping over my cheeks. His hand goes to my hair and he twirls a red lock around one thick and monstrous finger.
“Maybe you want to be punished? Did you like your spanking, Adelaide?” he questions. Despite my pride and anger, I can’t help but picture the scene between us last night. There was something charged about it. I was angry, no doubt. I still am. But this power play going on between the troll and me, it’s a challenge that calls to me. And the way he talks sometimes, hinting at arousal, it makes me feel like I do have power over him…some sort of power at least.
My words catch in my throat and he chuckles, his expression smug and knowing. I scowl at him, feeling exposed—and angry for it.
“Come, Adelaide. If you want to fish, we will fish.” He throws one heavy arm around my shoulder and we walk together along the far side of the rushing stream. I shift under the weight of his embrace, pretending it’s uncomfortable yet feeling oddly soothed by it. A short distance ahead there’s a small offshoot to the water flow, creating a calm pool near the bank.
The troll steps down the grassy slope and reaches back to assist me. I put my small hand in his and hop down beside him, taking in our surroundings. There’re smooth and rounded knolls all along the bank, perfect seating for a lazy day of fishing. Old and rotting felled trees peek between the grasses, wildflowers blooming from their hollowed cores. The sky is blue and the trees are tall and green.
“Doesn’t look so much like a cursed wood here,” I point out.
“Even the Perished Woods has its beauty,” the troll agrees. He takes a seat and pulls back the door to a compartment hidden beneath a layer of moss. Inside I see fishing supplies. “Sit with me, Adelaide.” I take a seat while he chooses a rod for me.
“I can do that,” I say, interrupting the baiting of my hook. He raises his eyebrow at me and I hold my hand out when he fails to pass me the small box of worms.
“You’ve done nothing but refuse tasks for days, but now you wish to bait your own hook?”
“Of course I want to bait my own hook,” I say, trying not to feel testy, but it’s so hard to fend off the familiar and comforting emotion.
“I didn’t figure you for dirty work, Adelaide,” he tells me, finally handing over the supplies.
I ignore his words and dig a hook into a fat and wiggling worm, wiping my fingers on the grass when I’m done and casting my line.
“You’re a strange woman, little one. Strange and angry.” He doesn’t bother to cast his own line. Instead he stares at me and I feel his gaze like a weight. I shift under the pressure.
“You’re not the first to tell me that,” I say.
“I don’t expect that I am.”
“Good. I’d hate for you to think you’re special.”
A second later he’s on me, yanking my body close to his and pulling my hair back roughly. I drop my pole and gasp in shock. One strong arm goes tightly around my waist and he presses his mouth against my neck. I can feel his pointed fangs scraping my skin. The heat of his breath practically burns and I remember what I so easily keep forgetting. This is a monster and whether I want to be or not, I am his. For now.
Chapter 12
Brom
“Enough!” I growl at the girl. “Enough.” I breathe deeply, trying to regain my composure, but it takes time before I stop seeing red. “I am a reasonable troll,” I say, more for my own benefit than for hers.
All I wanted was a little help with my labor, a companion to help me get through the long days and quiet nights. I thought I had found that in Adelaide, a woman lost in the woods, with no wealth and no family. She needs me as much as I need her, yet she refuses to see this. All she wants to do is fight.
The sound of her quivering breath pulls me from my angry haze. “I am trying to show you kindness today, Adelaide. That was our deal. You would stop spitting your poison and we’d have a nice morning fishing. Have you forgotten so quickly?”
“No! No, I remember,” she is quick to say. Pressed against her neck and breathing her in, I can feel the quickened beating of her heart.
“Do you want me to take you back to my lair, to keep you locked in there forever?”
“No! Please, I’m sorry. I forgot. I just forgot.”
“Can we salvage this day?” I ask, closing my eyes and focusing on her smell. I’m still angry, but her scent soothes me.
“Yes, I’ll keep my mouth shut. We can fish. I promise I won’t say a word.”
“That isn’t what I want, Adelaide. I want to be able to talk without being at each other’s throats!” I growl out the words, feeling frustrated down to my core. She’s silent but she writhes against me, trying to find some sort of escape from my touch. Her cheek brushes mine and I feel it is wet. She’s crying.
“Why are you crying?” I demand.
“It’s hard for me. I don’t know if I can stop myself. I swear, I’m not trying to argue. This is just what I do.”
“Explain it to me,” I beg, desperate to understand her. I release my grip on her hair, smoothing it down for her. She whimpers and it makes me think of a babe who needs swaddling to be calm, so I wrap my other arm tightly around her, resting my palm on her throat. Her slight human frame is engulfed in my embrace and I whisper against her ear. “Please,” I ask.
“I’ve already told you. It started with my parents…when they died last year. Their cart flipped on a bad piece of road; they were crushed. I haven’t been able to get over it.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why,” she baulks. “They’re my parents!”
“Everyone’s parents die, Adelaide. You’re grown, why not allow yourself to heal?”
She huffs, trying to pull her head away from mine, but I force contact, bumping my forehead against her temple. I hear her fighting back tears.
“You may cry in front of me. That’s not an emotion I’ll judge you over.”
> “Oh, but you’ll judge me over my anger?” she challenges, finally turning to look at me. Tears streak her flushed cheeks. I pull away just enough so that she can look into my eyes.
“Yes,” I answer plainly. She scoffs and shakes her head at me.
“You’re just like my Aunt Celia,” she accuses.
“I sincerely doubt that.”
“It seems like everyone can take sadness from a woman, but if I’m angry that’s somehow unacceptable. It’s bullshit is what it is.”
“I’ll take sadness because it’s authentic, Adelaide. Anger is the bullshit. Anger is what you bury your sadness under, hiding it from others—hiding it from yourself.”
She grows tense in my arms and I see the muscles in her jaw tighten. I nuzzle her there, trying to pull her out of the pit she has dug for herself. “Tell me where it really started,” I say quietly, urging her to share her secrets with me.
She shakes her head and her whole body trembles. “The answer is on your lips, let it fall between us, Adelaide. What does it matter if one lonely troll in the Perished Woods knows what plagues you?” I stroke her neck and keep my grip on her tight.
Silence stretches for a long while between us, but I can feel it in Adelaide’s body—she is preparing to tell me her secrets.
“It’s so important for a girl to be nice.” She says the word with venom. “In a human village, that is. Especially at my age—courting age. I was supposed to smile, bat my eyelashes, bake muffins for the church. I was supposed to go out of my way to show people how sweet I could be—what a lovely young bride I could be.”
She waits for me to interject, to challenge her in some way. But I only wish to listen, to hear how her story progresses.
“It was only midday, but my parents were late getting back. I think I knew then that something was terribly wrong. There was a fear that gripped me deep in my stomach. I walked around the village, expressing my concern in that stupid meek way that everyone wanted me to be. They told me not to worry, said I was being silly. A silly girl. But I couldn’t shake that feeling. So I went after them myself. It didn’t even take long to find the turned cart.”