Giving Ground

I didn't want to, but it didn't seem to matter what I wanted. My body seemed all too willing to do what he asked.

"Don't scream…" He said and I felt a tightening in my throat that indicated he'd stolen my voice.

As the icy water surged over me, I wrapped my hands around my body and panted for air. Immediately shuddering under the wake of the cold dousing. It was so chilly it was nearly painful against my skin. Each cold drop feeling like a tiny painful prick over my goose bumped skin.

"Wash yourself." He said dismissively.

I tried to jump out of the bin. But at the tensing of my body, he put up a flat hand that formed a wall around it.

I can't get out. I clawed at the invisible barrier. Trying to escape the water, like an animal fearing drowning.

"It hurts." I croaked as much as my constricted throat would allow.

"Will you do as I ask?" He asked impassively. Crossing thickly muscled arms over his lean chest disapprovingly.

I nodded desperately. Clenching my teeth against the discomfort of the icy water pelting my back.

He eyed me a moment. His gaze lingering on my breasts pressed against the invisible wall and slipping down to my flat belly and narrow pelvis and resting on the small nubs of lips he could see peering between my slender thighs.

"Please, Warlord!"

"Killian." He corrected. "Say it."

"Let me out, Killian."

He lifted his brows. Somewhat surprised I had complied for once.

He flicked his fingers and the wall dissipated so fast, that I fell headlong. Tumbling over the edge and flailing my arms in an effort to stop myself. He took a long step forward and caught me against his chest.

I whimpered from the cold. I didn't want his touch, but I was so cold, and he was so warm. His thick corded arms had caught me instinctively. I was painfully aware my back was as bare as they were. Sending heat waves pouring through me.

The flat plane of his chest felt like it was on fire.

I saw the tendrils of black smoke still floating behind him from where he'd used his magic to move to me so quickly. I lifted my head reluctantly and met his unreadable gaze.

"Now wash yourself." He said coldly. Tossing me backward and back onto my feet in the bin.

I had one terrifying moment of fearing I'd be standing back in the cold. Instead, I found the water steamy and warm. Rubbing my upper arms, I gave a contented purr.

"Wash." He barked. Eyes narrowing.

I tried to keep covered as much as possible while running my fingers through my hair. Dislodging tiny rocks which tinked into the bottom of the metal tub. Pulling out pieces of mushy clay and letting them fall.

He stood watching me awhile.

I worked a bit of matted hair which seemed nearly glued together by the muck. I chewed my lip and peered up at it through large brown eyes. Frustrated that the knot which seemed like it'd be so easy to free was proving impossible.

"Let me help." His voice was haunting. Coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

I looked around and realized he was gone.

I jolted when I felt his large hands land on my shoulders.

"Be still." He murmured.

I was frozen in shock as I felt his hands reaching around the front of me to pull the long strands over my shoulders and down my back.

He moved and I felt the front of his thighs brush the back of my legs and I lunged forward. But his grip on my hair kept me leaned back toward him. He responded by giving it a hard tug and sending me careening back against his chest.

I yelped.

"Where do you think you're going?" He murmured against my temple. His fistful of my hair pulled close to his body.

"I just-you-I was…startled." I swallowed.

"Best get used to my touch." His voice rumbled along my skin. Sending goosebumps up my neck.

He released the pressure on my hair. Giving me enough slack for me to straighten and stand stiffly before him again.

"Have you done this to all your slaves?" I shifted uncomfortably. Feeling painfully exposed standing bare before him.

"No."

"You don't wash them?"

"I don't wash them. I don't have them."

"What?" I peered over my shoulder to blink at him.

"Typically, when I have someone in my personal chambers it is to find out information."

Torture.

"Is that what you're going to do to me?" I asked anxiously.

He paused dragging something through my hair. Something that felt flat like it might be some manner of rough stone. Though he was surprisingly gentle in his method.

"Do you possess any knowledge of interest."

"No." I whispered.

"Would you admit it if you did?" He queried blandly.

No.

"Yes."

He scoffed. "The Hell you would."

"Your hair has red tints in it." He remarked.

"Yes, I'm aware." I said a bit snidely.

"Explains such ferocity in one so small."

I scrunched my lips as I glanced over my shoulder to see if he was mocking me.

His gaze flicked up from where he drug the stone through my hair, to meet my look. He was impossible to read. His face lacking any manner of emotion. "It explains why you're so pale."

"My uncle kept me indoors." I blurted.

"Why?"

"To protect me from those that'd hunt me during the Mating Moon."

Why'd I admit that?

He's a stranger. An enemy.

"I'm not your enemy." He corrected.

"You can read my thoughts?"

He remained quiet.

He can.

"Why would you say you aren't?" I questioned.

"Because I'm not."

"I'm your slave…Your captive."

"Perhaps I was saving you from a worse fate." He suggested.

"Like being put down before I could be ravished?" I whirled around to confront him.

His face darkened and I instantly knew I'd made a mistake.

A grave one.