I deserve it.
She sniffled to herself, aware of the chill in the morning air, but it took all of her focus not to let loose a stream of curses as her arms went from that uncomfortable numbness to a furious pain that seemed to touch each nerve ending with icy fire.
“You’re awake,” the quiet whisper startled her until she saw Alice crawling towards the end of the thin cloth.
“Yes.”
“I’m glad, um, I —” Alice looked over at the sleeping form of Clara, the woman’s mouth open slightly as she nestled her head in the crook of her arm.
“What is it?” Emmie whispered, crossing her legs and leaning forward to try and convince her arms they didn’t need to be quite so adamant in their ache.
“I thought I recognized you yesterday, but I wasn’t sure, and I—” Alice took a steadying breath and moved even closer, lowering her voice to an almost inaudible level. “I think I know who you are.”
Alarm bells went off inside her almost as loudly as the ones from her dream, but Emmie tried to remain stoic. “What do you mean?”
“You’re Emeline Daniau!” Alice’s excitement was still contained by a low whisper, but it may as well have been shouted to the treetops. “You are Jules Daniau’s daughter, right?”
Emeline was struck still, an ill feeling swirling in her stomach as she fought the urge to throw up, or scream, or somehow murder the young woman without the use of her hands to keep her silent.
“I won’t tell anyone, I promise, I just…” Alice’s voice drifted into silence, and Emmie knew she was probably pale as the moon. “I just had to confirm when no one else would hear us. Victor is asleep, I checked.”
“Then why didn’t you run?”
“Just because he’s asleep doesn’t mean others are.” Alice scooted closer until their knees were almost touching and Emmie wanted to pull back, wanted to flee. “I know it’s you. I saw you a few times, and everyone always pointed your family out. Your father is —”
“Would you shut up!” Emmie hissed, and the girl’s eyes went wide. “You can’t tell them, you can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t!” Alice whispered back, her face alight with a grin. “This is crazy though! Why would he exile you? You’re his daughter!”
“It’s complicated,” she mumbled, but the girl was practically bouncing with the affirmation.
“What will you do if the others recognize you? Your family is—” Alice waved her arms around. “– everywhere!”
“I’ll run.”
“You can’t!” Alice squeaked, and Clara grumbled in her sleep. She lowered her voice, an earnest concern pulling her brows together. “They’ll catch you, Emmie, they’ll hurt you.”
“If they know who I am, they might do a lot worse, Alice. Think about it.”
They both fell into silence, and the serious expression on the girl’s face made it clear that she at least understood that much. After a few minutes, she took a breath. “Well, I don’t blame you for any of it, if that helps…”
“It doesn’t.” Emmie pulled her knees in front of her chest, leaning her forehead onto them as she flexed her fingers behind her. She spoke against the fabric of her pants. “Do you think they’ll untie me today?”
“Maybe,” Alice whispered. “Are you in pain?”
“No,” she lied, but then the full feeling in her bladder made her wince. “But I do need a toilet.”
“Oh, oh.” The girl stood up and bent to help Emmie to her feet. “I’ll help.”
After what was quite possibly the most humiliating morning she’d ever had, Emmie was almost grateful to be fully dressed and back in the center of the village being whispered about as some kind of new oddity.
Being spoon fed gruel was no longer a concern, but she missed the use of her hands furiously. Alice was busy rebraiding her hair when Lucian appeared on the other side of the small fire that was keeping the chill of the morning at bay.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning!” Alice said cheerily, and Lucian nodded his head at her before returning his gray eyes to Emmie expectantly.
She kept her mouth firmly shut, glaring up at him and doing her best to express her hatred non-verbally.
“Nothing to say, little bird?”
“Not to you,” Emmie muttered.
He shrugged and dropped his hands on his hips, looking way too perfect in the early morning light. “Well, if you have nothing to say then I guess you can spend another day with your hands bound.”
Emmie gritted her teeth, but when he turned to walk away, the word burst from her lips, “Wait!”
Lucian paused, turning to face her again. “Yes?”
“I want my hands untied,” she said.
“Going to ask?” He stared at her for a moment, and when she didn’t respond, he shrugged again and started to turn away.
“Dammit!” she shouted. “Will you untie my hands?”
When he turned around, he was smiling, a devilish tilt to his lips that made her want to hit him again. “Say please.”
Her stomach clenched around the measly amount of food in it, but she was somehow able to grate the word out. “Please.”
“Was that so hard?” Lucian asked as he stepped around the fire. Alice quickly tied off the braid, moving aside as he gripped Emmie’s arm to pull her to her feet.
“Yes,” she answered and he chuckled.
“You don’t want to do anything the easy way, do you?”
That question she decided to leave unanswered as he navigated them through the morning movements of the village. As he passed others they smiled or nodded at him, a few called out to him from their work and he waved with his free hand.
Emmie hated all of them for their complicity.
“Here, kneel down.” Lucian pushed open a roughly hewn wooden door and pointed to the floor inside, which was lined with animal skins. It was a luxurious space compared to the stable she had slept in. Large, with a huge pallet for a bed, a small table in one corner with a chair, along with hand crafted dishes, and other supplies organized around the room. It was tall enough for Lucian to stand in, and he was at least half a head taller than she was. The roof also had a flap which let dappled sunlight pour in, lighting the room easily.
Emmie blamed her own surprise for the fact that she found herself on her knees as he’d requested. It was tempting to climb back to her feet, but she knew she’d look ridiculous as she struggled to do it, so she tried to look as composed as possible in the kneel.
Lucian grabbed the chair and planted it in front of her, taking a seat before he leveled his gray eyes at her. “Well?”
“Well?” Emmie echoed, staring up at him. The small smile that spread over his lips made her furious.
“You asked to have your wrists unbound.”
She rolled her eyes. “So, what are you waiting for?”
He laughed. Actually laughed. A bright sound that brought out the baritone of his natural voice, and then he leaned back in the chair, throwing one arm over it. “I’m waiting for you to earn it.”
“How?” Emmie tensed, and his gray eyes moved down her body slowly.
“I thought I might let you come up with an acceptable option.” Lucian sounded like he was having the most calm, respectable conversation in the world – but this discussion was anything but reputable.
“I’m not fucking you, if that’s what you think.”
“What a mouth!” He laughed again and she wanted to scream. “If you don’t want to fuck me for this, then offer something else. That is, unless you’ve grown comfortable with your wrists tied like that.”
“Fine. I promise not to hit you again when you untie me.” Emmie said it seriously, but he only chuckled.
“Try again.”
“I won’t strangle you either.”
Lucian grinned, leaning forward. “As if you could.”
Emmie leaned forward too, their faces dangerously close. “Untie my hands and let’s test it.”
“You�
�re an interesting one, little bird.” He laughed softly. “But, I think you’ll need to think of something else.”
She hated it, but she pulled back first and he returned to his relaxed posture in the chair. The incessant ache in her shoulders and back were impossible to ignore, and the pain in her wrists already told her she’d worn the skin raw. The added humiliation of needing Alice’s assistance that morning was too much – she needed her hands free. “What do you want?” Emmie whispered.
“I want you to accept your role here, and earn the right to have your hands free.”
“I refuse.”
Lucian stood up and grabbed the back of the chair to return it to the table. “All right then, we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Wait!” Emmie cried out and he stopped. She let out a frustrated scream and clenched her eyes tight. “Please, I want my hands free. I’ll do what you want.”
The sound of the chair landing in front of her alerted her to his presence, and then she heard his deep breath as he settled onto it. “All right. What do you think I want?”
She took a steadying breath. “Me.”
Silence stretched, and then she felt his touch under her chin lifting her head and she opened her eyes to find that heather gray stare inches from her. “Yes, I do. What are you offering, little bird?”
“Please,” she whimpered, and his thumb brushed across her lips. The intimacy of that touch made her shudder, and then she knew exactly what he wanted. “I’ll—”
“Yes?” he asked, holding her chin so that she couldn’t look away. It was infuriating to look at him. Those strong features, accented by the delicate, high cheekbones that would have made him almost pretty if it weren’t for the rugged tousle of his light brown hair. She hated him, and his face, and his strong body, and the power he held over her.
“I’ll taste you,” she whispered, and his eyes widened slightly.
“Really.” It didn’t come across as a question, more of a doubting mockery, but that was something she at least knew how to do. It was at least something she had done under much more pleasant circumstances.
“Yes,” she muttered and turned her face out of his hand.
“Let’s see then, because you won’t need your hands for it.” Lucian leaned back from her, and she was grateful for the space until his hands went to his pants and began to open them. He was already hard, straining against the fabric until his cock finally sprang free, and he stroked it slowly. “Come on, little bird.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Would you prefer Emmie?” he asked.
“I’d prefer silence.”
“Well, come on then and silence the both of us.” His hand moved to the base, holding the length of his cock in the air as he spread his knees wide enough for her to shuffle between them.
The first swipe of her tongue made his hips jerk, and his free hand gripped the edge of the chair, and for a moment she reveled in the reaction. She repeated, delicately trailing her tongue up the other side of his shaft as he let out a breath. Emmie tried to remember what it had been like to do this for one of the boys desperate to court her, the ones who had done their best fumbling to give her pleasure.
Lucian didn’t seem to have any trouble, a voice sprung up inside her but she pushed it away.
Focusing on what she remembered, she parted her lips to let him slip inside the warm confines of her mouth, drawing gently on the delicate head of his cock until he groaned audibly above her. Taking sips of breath in through her nose, she dipped lower and lower with each movement, soaking in the way his hips kicked when she flicked her tongue against the underside of his smooth shaft. It was velvet over steel, growing harder in her mouth as she continued, and each time he grunted she tried to repeat the action – urging him to completion.
“Yes…” he moaned quietly, and the power she held over him in that moment was clear. He had hurt her, but she could hurt him back if she chose to. As she lifted her head again, she allowed her teeth to scrape him, and he hissed and pushed her back. It was a second before she noticed the prick of a knife against her throat. “Bite me and you won’t live to regret it.”
Emmie swallowed delicately, trying to ease back from the sharp edge against her. “I won’t.”
“Good girl.” Lucian removed the blade, winding his knife hand in her hair to guide her back to his cock. “Then keep going.”
She didn’t feel as powerful as she guided her lips back over him again, but his groan of approval was welcome. As long as he was satisfied, the soreness between her legs would have a chance to fade, and she might have her hands back. That idea spurred her forward, intent on the reward she’d receive if she could just please him. For the first time in her life she wished she had more experience, she wished she’d slipped away with more of the boys she had met, but she’d spent too many years trying to make her father happy.
And what did you get for that? Her mind asked.
Nothing, she answered, and tried to guide him as far back as she could until she choked and had to pull away. He moaned anyway, tightening his grip on her hair to pull her down again. Emmie tried to make up for the gagging by dancing her tongue along the hard shaft, applying special attention to the head before slipping forward again.
Each time she let him drive her down unto the point of choking, and then she drew him gently into her mouth as she lifted her head. It was a negotiation of give and take, seeking the median that would give him the pleasure he sought, and the freedom she craved.
Suddenly, he held her up, focusing her efforts at the head of his cock so that she moved the ridge in and out, faster and faster until he suddenly tensed and jerked her down. She had no choice but to swallow or choke, and she chose to swallow until he was panting heavily above her.
“Wow,” he mumbled as he released her hair and she sat back, trying her best to wipe her mouth on her shoulder. He still held the knife in his hand, and the sight of it made her quail. It was roughly hewn, but incredibly sharp based on the way the edge caught the light. The idea that it had been against her throat made her shudder. Lucian laughed to himself, brushing the back of his hand across his forehead. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to be so good at that.”
“Do you want me to say thank you?” Emmie glared at him, but he just laughed again.
“Don’t strain yourself. Turn around.” His hands went to work quickly as soon as she shifted, and then her hands were free. Her shoulders screamed, and her wrists echoed them when she was finally able to move her arms in front. Even her ribs hurt, and the space in the center of her chest felt strained.
“Shit,” she hissed as a twinge caused her back to spasm. Surprisingly, Lucian leaned forward to rub it, rolling his thumbs into the flesh of her back, just under her shoulder blade where the pain was the worst. As much as she hated it, Emmie leaned backed against his expert touch, reveling in the way he wiped away the ache. A quiet moan slipped from her lips as he shifted to the other side to repeat the massage, and then his hands trailed up her back to her shoulders, and then her neck. She practically melted back against him, and he shuffled his chair forward to catch her as she leaned back.
“See what happens when you behave?” Lucian’s words broke the spell and she jerked away from him, rolling her wrists in her lap. They were a dark red, the skin broken in places, and she clenched her fists in anger.
“May I go?” she asked.
His hands left her instantly, and although the massage had felt wonderful, she refused to acknowledge it aloud. “Yes.”
Emmie stood where she was, refusing to turn around and see him exposed. She was already at the door, pulling it open before she heard his voice again.
“Don’t try to run again. If I don’t catch you myself, someone will and you won’t like the results.”
The threat settled over her like a new set of bindings, invisible but just as effective. “Fine. May I leave now?”
“Of course.” Lucian’s voice sounded satisfied, and she wiped her mouth w
ith the back of her hand, then his voice rose up, “I’ll see you soon, little bird.”
“Hawk,” she corrected, and left.
Chapter Six
The raiders lived a strangely normal existence, which Emmie discovered for herself over the next four days. Lucian had left on another hunting trip the day after she had earned the right to have her hands free, and he wasn’t back yet.
For that she was grateful.
They seemed to leave in shifts, always bringing back fresh meat to the village while those who stayed behind tended to the rough gardens in the forest around them, or gathered naturally growing foods. That was where Clara spent her days, and it was obvious that these people knew more about what to eat, and what not to eat, than Emmie could have ever learned in the time she had spent researching.
A few other things became very clear in Lucian’s absence.
First, the raiders had been explicitly commanded not to touch her.
Second, the same was not true for Alice or Clara, who had failed to return to the stable several nights that week because men had kept them for the evening.
Third, Emeline’s very short list of talents was making her a complication to the other women in the village.
“No, no, no! The weave must be tighter than that, otherwise it will come apart as its used!” Lucie sighed at her and took the basket-to-be from her hands again. “Watch me.”
The woman’s delicate fingers undid the last row that Emmie had produced and then redid it, tightening the weave along the way until it looked perfect. “I did watch you, I just don’t know why it doesn’t look the same when I do it.”
“It takes practice, you’ll get it.” Lucie handed the basket back to her and Emmie nestled it into her lap to try again. “What did you do in the city?”
A blush crept into her cheeks and she shrugged. “I did some embroidery, needlepoint type things.”
“Ah, well, we don’t have much of a need for decorative sewing work. Can you make clothes?”
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