The Toll (12 page)

Breathing just as harshly as I, he
groaned and slowly slid them out once all that was left was a
pleasant tingling feeling, dampened by my recent orgasm. My very
first one.

My eyes tracked the movement as he
sucked his glistening fingers greedily into his mouth, growling at
the taste. Snarling as he licked them clean, his eyes met mine as I
lay there, panting and gasping for air.

Inhaling deeply, he leaned forward,
his breath whispering across my distended nipples before he gave
one a quick nip and a lick.

Squeaking in shock, my hands shot up
and covered them, trembling as his lips tightened and he pulled
back.

His right eye started twitching,
orange irises swirling with black, and his jaw tightened, the sound
of grinding teeth drifting toward my ears. Muttering a curse, he
rolled himself up to his knees and gestured at my lower
half.

“
If ye loved him, nugget,
truly, as ye say, ye wouldna have let me do that.” Eyes narrowing,
daring me to argue, he snapped, “What say ye now?”

Guilt hit me like a fist to the gut
and my lower lip started to tremble. Tears started leaking from my
eyes, as if he’d just cranked the handle linked to my as of yet
untapped faucet of emotions.

Watching me, he grunted but didn’t
look away, just watching me, his face purposely expressionless as
fat tears rolled steadily down my cheeks. His mouth tightened even
more when I looked away and couldn’t meet his gaze, and he got up
and tossed a length of cloth at me.

“
Ye can finish up from
here, I think,” he snarled before he stormed off. “Dinna know what
I was thinkin’,” he ranted, “shoulda just let ye die.”

Forcing back the sob building up in my
throat, I pulled the towel-like sheet over me as good as I could
and closed my eyes, quietly crying and shaking, letting it all out
until I fell back to sleep.

This was all just a bad
dream,
I chanted over and over, hoping I
never woke up.

But when I woke up the next
day, in a fresh white gown, on a pallet with a straw stuffed
mattress, covered in soft furs, the smell of roses permeated my
senses, and I knew, without a doubt, this was all
very
real.

Offerings

“
Eat.” A platter was tossed
down in front of me as I rubbed at my red, itchy eyes, less weak
than yesterday, but no less worn and weary, a large purple yolk-ed
egg, fried over easy, sitting atop two thick slices of bread on the
oversized plate he’d slapped down in front of me.

Slave driver, I mean, Dr. No Death,
had picked me up the second he realized my eyes had opened, and
dropped me heavily into an oversized wooden chair.

It was much wider than my own generous
rear end, and it made me feel petite, almost, sitting in it as he
sat what he constituted as breakfast down in front of
me.

It was weird, him making food, since
that had been left to me lately. I didn’t know he could manage
anything above stale bread and filling a water flagon, or roasting
something over a spit. That was all we ever ate if he didn’t have
me cook that day.

There was an abundance of
cooking supplies available, I’d noticed the first day, in the nook
he used to make meals, but not one sharp, or even blunt, knife, or
knife-like apparatus, in sight. Nothing to poison him with,
either
. Sigh.

Was this a good guess on
his part—forethought—or smart planning for a creature who’d had
many humans indebted to him in such a way before?

A little of both, if I had
to guess.

My eyes stayed firmly on the heaping
plate of food as he doled up his own and sat down in his usual
seat—the other room by the fire.

Staring at my food
quizzically, I picked up the spoon he was gracious enough to let me
have—
no forks for me,
apparently—
and popped the yolk, watching
the runny purple liquid spill out over onto the thick slab
platter.

What creature makes purple
eggs?
Giant purple eggs, if the yolk I’d
just popped was any indication for size.

Troll looked up once he’d cleaned his
plate, coming into the room to dump it in the wash
bucket.

“
Ye dinna eat it.” He
sniffed and stood over me, an intimidation tactic he’d grown quite
fond of when I was feeling defiant.

My cheeks heated and I couldn’t look
at him, shame washing over me anew as thoughts of gentle, probing
fingers and rose scented oil ran through my head.

“
It’s purple,” I blurted,
poking at it like I thought it might still be alive.

“
Do ye want more broth,
then, nugget?” The bite in his clipped out, thinly veiled threat
wasn’t lost on me.

“
I just want the bread,” I
mumbled, picking up a piece and quickly taking a huge
bite.

“
Ye’ll eat all of it,” he
ground out, “or ye’ll starve.”

I can do
that
—starve. I’d done it until I crashed
and you forced vile broth down my throat.
Shoulders itching, I almost shrugged in challenge, but I held
back. It wouldn’t do to wind him up when I have no chance to defend
myself.

Grumbling, he sat down at the only
other chair at his backroom, hidden kitchen, and leaned forward,
his long, impossibly thick arms resting on his knees.

Those scary intense orange eyes
focused on me, watching me as I slowly, meticulously choked down
every single bite, using the last piece of my bread to mop up all
the purple yolk smattering my plate. It was actually quite good—not
that I’d say that out loud.

Every time I snuck a peek at him, just
watching me, sitting there watching me, I felt more and more
self-conscious. Deep orange orbs, brimming with intelligence, were
watching me like a hawk, as if they might burn a hole right through
me at any moment, the heat of his gaze intense, intent.

“
I made morn meal,” he
grumbled out, waiting for a reply.

Peeking up at him, I blinked in
surprise. “Uhm... thank you?”

Nodding, he got up. “Ye’re welcome.”
Pushing his chair in, he stood up to his full height, snatched the
plate up and tossed it in the bucket, and just like that, he
lumbered off.

My brow wrinkled as I watched him go.
Scowling, I could have sworn his lips were curled up as he rounded
a corner, wandering deeper into the catacomb like maze that makes
up the back of his home.

“
I missed something,” I
mumbled to myself absently, scratching at my cheeks idly. “I know I
did.”

****

“
He willna wait for
ye.”

It had been almost two weeks since the
rose oil, uhm, episode, and this was the first we’d said more than
a handful of words to one another since he’d made the purple
yolk-ed eggs.

I was beginning to crave
conversation, but I wasn’t about to seek
him
out for it.

“
Who won’t?” I asked
curiously, drying off a cup and putting it back in the bin with all
the other clean ones.

“
Yer whelp. The
pisser.”

Looking to him sharply, I glared at
the back of his head as he swallowed another huge bite of apple
pie.

I almost regretted making
them, the two pies he’d inhaled, plus the one that lay in waiting
in the middle of the table.
But I’d made
them more so for me,
I kept reasoning with
myself.
So, it’s okay, then.

“
His name is Trystan, and
he loves me.”

“
But ye’re not comin’ back,
so he’ll move on.” Jaw working slowly as he chewed, he grunted and
scraped his fork over the pan holding the pie he was currently
decimating, running his thumb through it to catch every last
crumb.

Denying his claim, I shook my head.
“You don’t know Trystan like I do.”

Lifting his head slowly, his eyes met
mine levelly. “Ye mean like he knows ye?”

He’d never brought up what had
happened that day, and I’d lived in dread at the thought that he
might, hoping he never did.

The plate I was washing slipped from
my shocked fingers and shattered on the floor, smashing into five
huge pieces. Startled, I jumped, squeaking in alarm.

Troll growled and got up, stomping
over as he pushed me harshly out of the way. “Now look what ye’ve
gone an’ done? Coulda bloody cut yerself!” Realizing his outburst,
he grunted, masking his expression, and rumbled curtly, “I liked
that bloody plate.”

A small piece of the broken plate was
still clutched in my hand and I palmed it, hiding it in my small,
clammy fingers. Troll was too busy picking up the other pieces to
notice, so I used his distraction to hide the shard in my
mattress.

I was almost successful too, but a
huge hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me dead in my tracks,
right before I’d reached my sleeping pallet.

“
What ye got there,
nugget?”

“
Hmm? Nothing. Nothing.” I
laughed nervously, ignoring his held out, upturned hand, fingers
curling up and towards him, urging me to hand it over.

“
Thought ye said ye wasna a
liar?” he tsk-ed.

“
Yes, well, I thought you
said you weren’t either, now look at us, hmm?” Popping over to the
side, I used his moment of stunned silence to run around
him.

With a growl, he tackled me and pushed
me on my back, shoving my arms up high above my head, pinned to the
dirt floor.

“
Ye think me a fool, do
ye?” he snarled, trying to figure out which hand held the chipped
plate piece.

“
No!” I shouted back. “You
do a fine job of that all on your own!” My knees came up and I
pushed, hoping to shove him back.

My foot slipped and slammed into his
tender nether regions.

A pain filled grunt rent the air and
he slammed his thighs between mine, plopping down on top of me,
stabilizing my torso with his lower length.

Skin mottling angrily, he roared in my
face, a loud, angry bellow, and started smashing my hands into the
ground until they opened, one by one.

Finding the piece in my left hand, he
chucked it clear into the river.

“
Ye’re no better than the
others,” he gritted out. “Shoulda dealt wit’ ye like I did them,
then be done wit’ yer sorry arse!”

“
Fine! Then do it!” I
challenged.

His eyes narrowed and he leaned in
close. “Could shut ye up, easily, ye realize.”

My eyes widened as he watched me
swallow, his bright orange eyes tracking the motion.

As my heart pounded in my throat, his
fingers came up and he traced the movement, pressing his thumb
gently into the throbbing vein in my neck.

Eyes blazing, he leaned in
and breathed against my skin. “Ye’re so soft an’ small,
nugget.
Vulnerable.
If I really wanted, I could do as they say, ye know. Like
them idiots thought I was plannin’ wit’ that emaciated layabout ye
share a blood tie wit’.”

My voice came out strangled as he
shifted and something hard and thick dug pointedly into my
thigh.

Realizing exactly what that was, I
whimpered.

“
No,” I garbled.

“
No?” He hummed into the
hollow of my throat, biting at it with his wide, flat teeth.
Nuzzling my throat caressingly, he bit it again, a little harder,
but stopped when I jumped and squeaked. “Ah, but ye dinna stop me
before, hmm. I’m thinkin’ ye might even like it.”

The slice of truth to that bothered me
more than what had actually transpired between us. I couldn’t deny
it.

“
Get off of me.”

Pulling back slightly, he lifted
himself up a little. “Ye choosin’ now ta find yer voice, nugget?”
Naked brow winging upward, orange eyes flashing, he tsk-tsk-ed me
some more. “Ye know I canna stand a stubborn female. If I dinna
know better, I’d think ye was baitin’ me.”

“
What?! I…
no!”

“
Mmmm,” he grumbled, voice
almost a purr, “I’d love ta shove somethin’ down that pretty little
throat of yers, give ye somethin’ ta really bitch
about.”

My eyes narrowed, lips
thinning.
He
was
baiting
me
, not
the other way around.

“
You disgust me,” I
whispered, watching his nasty smile fall and his face
harden.

Snarling viciously under his breath,
his chest vibrated with a growl from somewhere deep in his throat,
not so much happy this time, and he ground his hips into mine
meaningfully.

“
Tha’s na wha’ happened the
other day, though, was it, nugget? Wasna disgusted wit’ me
then,
at all,
were ye?” he rumbled in his odd way of speaking, his accent,
thickening as he glared down at me.

“
I was sick.” My excuse was
weak and so was my voice, reduced to a diminutive
squeak.