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The primal need to survive made even the weakest of mice fight with all the fury of a god. When your back was against the wall, you found out what your soul was made of, and I’d learned long ago that mine had been forged in fire and ferocity.
A scream built in my chest as I fell through the air, only remaining trapped there through years of instinct, knowing that screams only ever summoned monsters.
Callie and I had kept the candle alight longer than usual, telling each other stories and imagining a life beyond the Realm. Fantasy was my favourite way to escape this world, but life always dragged me back kicking and screaming. The reality was, we were trapped here, and our conjured dreams of safety had just been thoroughly stamped out.
“If this is kismet, then I’ve never known such a clear sign – the stars are practically screaming at us to change our destiny. Short of one of them tearing down to earth and making a deal with us in person, I don’t think they could send us a better signal to do this,” she said, her confidence unwavering, and damn, I loved her for that.
“There is nothing in this world which will ever see me on my knees,” he replied in a rough tone that rushed right through to my core.
Magnar inspected the sharp rock for a moment, arching an eyebrow at me before tossing it aside into the river. “Perhaps you’re the one who needs a good fuck, drakaina hjarta, you harbour a lot of anger in your soul.” “Maybe I’ll use that anger to stab you while you sleep,” I snarled, getting to my feet, my teeth grinding with irritation. “Feel free to try. But for now, as I said, it seems like we should take the opportunity to bathe while we have it. By all means, stay where you are if you intend to watch me.”
“The fates guided you to my door, drakaina hjarta. I won’t let them call you from me so easily.”
He was arrogant, and stubborn, proud and infuriating, but I had never felt drawn to any man the way I did to the one who now held me in his arms like I was the only thing in this rotten world that even mattered to him.
Magnar was a means to an end. And that end was fast approaching.
