Page 36 of Stolen Faith
She glared daggers at the men as they walked in. She was still scared, of course she was, but right now, it wasn’t her predominant emotion. Days of alternating fear and boredom had overloaded her emotion centers, and she was left with irritation due to how uncomfortable she was.
Days. It had been days. The sun was setting, meaning it was Monday night, and they’d been gone nearly forty-eight hours.
Every statistic about the first forty-eight hours was running through her head, but as she watched Camo Cast eye Rowan, a new fear surged up. She may have thought her store of terror was exhausted, but she was wrong.
Because when Camo Cast stopped by Rowan’s feet, that was what she was. Terrified. Not for herself. For her fiancé.
Brennon was tethered to the corner, unable to reach either her or Rowan, though he tried. And while it had taken some time, Rowan had managed to get into a sitting position, his back against the wall.
Rowan sitting up had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now all Izabel could think was that if they started hitting Rowan, he had no room to move. He wouldn’t even be able to roll away. His body would be trapped between the wall and their fists and feet.
She needed to pull their attention away from Rowan.
“If you don’t want money, then what do you want?” She straightened her shoulders, chin up. Her “fuck you, you patriarchal dick” pose. Though usually she was standing, not tied to a chair.
Camo Cast turned toward her. “Stuck-up bitch.”
Izabel rounded her eyes. “Oh no, a man thinks I’m uppity, whatever shall I do?”
“Izabel,” Brennon said cautiously.
Izabel met Brennon’s gaze, then looked pointedly at Rowan and back. Brennon’s expression tightened, but he seemed to understand.
Camo Cast stalked toward her. “You think you’re funny, you stupid whore?”
“No, I think I’m tired of sitting in this chair, and I want to know what’s going on.”
“You don’t get to know shit unless I want you to know shit.”
“What a brilliant statement.”
“Izabel.” Rowan barked her name, gaze fixed on her. “Don’t.”
She ignored him. “I’ll start with simple questions I’m confident you’re able to answer. Who are you?”
Camo Cast slapped her. It was an awkward left-handed slap, and Izabel saw it coming. Remembering what Rowan had done, she turned her head and leaned to the side. Still, his palm made contact with her cheek.
Ouch.
The pain was…shocking. Izabel had never been hit before, never been in a fight or abused. She’d had a few spankings…as an adult, in the bedroom.
This assault, as mild as it was, affected her in a way that she didn’t expect. Fear rolled through her, thick and overwhelming.
“Don’t touch her.” Brennon’s voice was fierce, almost a snarl. It was unexpected coming from him.
Tweedledum grunted. “They always talk when you hurt their sluts.”
“This one is a Delilah. Leading good men astray. Off the path of righteousness.” Camo Cast had raised his voice, as if making a proclamation or a sermon.
“Are you preaching?” Izabel stared at the men, her stomach cramping up. There was a distinctly religious overtone to Camo Cast’s words, and that was extremely worrying.
“Do you deny that you led these men to ungodly acts?” Camo Cast’s chest puffed up.
“I do,” Izabel said calmly. “They’re both grown-ups, capable of making up their own minds about what they do.”
“You showed them wickedness and made them think ungodly thoughts, and worse, you do ungodly things. You and all your kind.”
“Your kind?” Brennon asked. “Izabel, baby, are you a vampire?”