My heart was racing now. What in the rutting hell was she on about? She’d spent years telling me I couldn’t charm a carrot, let alone a man. What changed?
A sickening prospect occurred. But surely, surely, not even she could be that bold. Elain knew I had a little protection in Viola and John, and if they caught wind she’d forced me to whore myself, they’d bring down the wrath of the whole village upon hers and Gus’s heads.
“Nay, child, there’s no need to look so scared.” Elain smirked, clearly enjoying my fear. “I only want to get on his good side. And it’s time you learned that as women, we have no power other than what men give us. No matter what the will says, we must use whatever advantages we have.”
Her eyes lingered on my face, tracing my features. Whatever she saw there made her grimace and my chest constrict, as her silent insult found its mark. Glancing away, she leaned back and added, “You must trust me on this—give him company after a hard day’s work, add in a few compliments, and he’ll be eating out of our hands.”
I nodded once. As my panic cranked up another notch, I decided for a direct approach. She might let her mask slip, giving me time to glimpse her true intentions. “You don’t want me to marry him, do you?”
Elain let out a harsh croak and faced me. “He wouldn’t marry you, even if that’s what I desired. You might have a proper dowry now, but he’s a blacksmith. He has his pick of girls in the village.”
Some pathetic, vain part of me burned at that. I chewed on my lip, longing to spit out a curse or throw back an insult. Maybe I would have, if it weren’t for the knock. I jumped a bit, and Elain rose to answer the door, but not before I spotted something in her eyes that made me slip the bread knife up my sleeve. It’d be blunt, but better something than nothing.
An icy blast blew through our cabin, and my lungs tightened.
“Get in out of that cold—you look frozen.” Elain brushed the fresh snowfall from Gus’s shoulders as he stepped inside without a word. The door clicked shut; it sounded like a death knell. The cabin returned to its former warmth, but the chill didn’t leave my bones.
I stilled as his gray eyes found me. My whole body clenched, waiting for something to happen. But he walked to the woodstove and without looking at me said, “You’re looking well, Serena.”
I mumbled my thanks, but my stepmother’s glare was enough for me to add, “How’s the forge?”
“Same as always,” he said, a brittle snap entering his voice. He held his hands closer to the stove and rubbed them together. “Elain, how about a glass of something warm?”
“Of course, sit down,” she said, waving to the table.
He prowled over, choosing the chair next to mine. I strived to suppress a shudder and failed.
“Serena!” Elain barked. “Get a glass of wine for our guest.”
“That’s Father’s—”
“Don’t make me ask again,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “And while you’re at it, bring the bottle through.”
I deflated under the weight of her glare and stood to walk over to a door to my left. I went through into the pantry and found the wine rack—one of my father’s few indulgences. The labels of his favorite vintages stared back at me, and I ground my teeth. Bitch. The only reason she hadn’t sold his liquor was that she loved it too much.
After picking the cheapest wine possible, I seized the opportunity to slip the knife from my sleeve into the pocket of my dress. I stalked back into the living room, fighting the urge to fling the bottle at them. I grabbed a glass from a cupboard and filled it halfway while Elain gossiped about the villagers—one of her pastimes.
There was no choice; I had to sit down next to Gus again. I set the bottle on the table and pushed the glass toward him. He made an odd grunting noise I supposed meant thank you. I tried to hide my revulsion as he snatched the glass, then the bottle, and gorged on Father’s liquor.
For five long minutes he let my stepmother have free rein, spinning tales and talking nonsense. Still, I kept my eyes trained on her the whole time. Anything to avoid Gus’s roaming eyes.
Once he’d finished the whole damned bottle, I moved quickly and offered to wash his glass. He handed it over without a word. I grabbed the pie dish at the same time and made a great show of looking busy at the sink.
Elain turned to the topic of the forge, and Gus became more animated. I let their words flit in one ear and out the other, losing myself to the slow, meditative task of scrubbing. It was because of this I failed to notice the conversation slow to a trickle. I was watching fresh snow fall outside the window when something in its reflection caught my eye. Elain paused outside the door to her bedroom; her eyes locked onto mine, her expression was hard and unyielding, her smile twisted and triumphant.
Heart in mouth, I whirled as she shut the door and Gus stalked closer. I grew rooted, frozen to the earth, trapped.
Run, run, run, run, run.
I’d seen it in Elain’s expression—Gus would ruin me. She’d set this up. In one fell swoop, she hoped to break my spirit and destroy my reputation, ensuring no man would ever marry me. Afterward, she’d likely offer me a choice—give up my inheritance, or stay and be at the mercy of them both.
A potent, undiluted fear rushed in, poisoning my veins, paralyzing me. Angry, hopeless tears stung my eyes as Gus’s hot breath found my neck. My mind flitted from thought to thought as a stone would skip across a pond. I sought distraction. I looked to the hearth—the one my mother taught me to read by—then to the table where I’d last spoken to Father.
This was my first kiss. That was all I could think as Gus’s mouth found mine. His grasping tongue forced its way into my mouth. He tasted like sour wine; it made me gag.
Gus drew back at the sound. He regarded me for a moment and with a twitch of his lips, his greedy eyes drifted down. My body screamed in protest as rough hands found my breasts, tugging and pinching hard enough to bruise. “I always knew they were in there somewhere.” A soft laugh passed his lips. “I guess Elain’s little tonic must’ve worked. You’re much more docile than I’d imagined you’d be. I’ve got to say I’m disappointed—it’s so much more fun breaking in a wild horse.”
His words oozed into my ears, striking cord after cord. I’d been right. My stepmother had tried to drug me, and my father had been the one to let these monsters into our lives. He hadn’t believed me. He hadn’t seen. Then he’d gone and died, and left me to be a doe among wolves. But I’d seen through her, enough to not drink or eat her poison. I’d saved myself. I wasn’t paralyzed—I could fight back.
Gus grabbed my crotch. A chain I hadn’t known existed unfurled itself inside of me, awaking and unleashing a bloodthirsty and vicious animal. The possession in that touch made me bite down on the tongue that had forced its way into my mouth again. I tasted blood.
Good.
I loosened a snarl and pulled out the knife from my pocket, slashing out. Gus staggered away: the knife had done nothing. I threw it to distract him and grabbed a soapy pan from the sink. There was no hesitation. I ran at him, swinging wildly. He swerved and moved in close, those muscled arms reaching out to stop me.
If he wanted a rutting wild horse, I’d give him one. I brought my knee screaming up between his legs and landed a savage blow.
He collapsed to his knees. At the precise moment, he screamed, “Bitch,” I brought the pan down on his head. He slumped to the floor, a dead weight.
Elain appeared, screeching, “You stupid girl!” She ran over to check his pulse. A quick, relieved sigh told me he’d survived. “Thank the mother,” she murmured and turned to glower up at me. “What were you thinking? You could’ve killed him!”
With fury singing in my veins, I pointed the frying pan at her like a sword. “If either of you ever come near me again, I will end you, d’you hear me?”