Page 25 of Wicked Enemy

Maybe we weren’t even in Malgrave anymore. I had never been to the north of Valda, so I didn’t know what it looked like up there.

I shifted my gaze back to the worldwalker. “This is a mistake. I’m not—”

Pain pulsed through my cheek.

The blow took me so off guard that I didn’t even have a chance to react. My head snapped to the side and I crashed down on the grass, barely missing the small puddle of vomit.

“Didn’t I tell you that I would knock your teeth out if you opened your mouth without permission?” my captor demanded.

Yes, he had. After he had let me breathe for a few seconds back in that corridor, he had tightened his grip on my throat again and spit all kinds of threats at me. If I made any noise, he would rearrange my teeth. If I tried to run, he would break my legs. If I tried to fight, he would knock me out. And I had believed him, so I had just stood there against the wall while he handcuffed me and then grabbed my arm to worldwalk us out of there.

There was a ruthless glint in his eyes that I recognized all too well. I had seen it in the gaze of many dark mages. It was the look that people got when they were powerful enough to do whatever they wanted. When they expected people to obey or die. Levi had that same glint in his eyes too. But as opposed to the King of Metal, this worldwalker seemed to have no issues with hurting civilians. Though technically, I wasn’t a civilian. But he didn’t know that.

Since I had rushed out of our offices without stopping to grab anything, I didn’t have my sword. And since I had been indoors all day, I also wasn’t wearing my white and gold leather jacket. That left me with the white leather pants and boots, which admittedly might look a bit odd to an outsider, and the simple black long-sleeved shirt that I wore underneath my armor. There was absolutely nothing to indicate that I was anything but a strangely dressed civilian.

“Answer,” he snapped.

My head was still ringing, so for a second, I had trouble remembering the question. Then his threat came trickling back in.

“Yes,” I pressed out while using my shackled hands to push myself up into a sitting position.

“Yes, what?”

Anger flashed through me, and I shot a glare up at him. “I don’t know. In case you’ve forgotten, you didn’t exactly stop to introduce yourself before you assaulted me.”

Crack.

Black spots swam before my eyes as he backhanded me again. Hard. I didn’t even have time to lift my hands and brace myself before I hit the ground once more. Pain pulsed through my cheek and shoulder.

Lying there with my cheek pressed against the soft grass, I dragged in a breath smelling of wet soil while I tried to gather my scattered wits again.

Okay so maybe provoking the ruthless and heavily muscled dark mage while I was handcuffed, unarmed, and alone with him in the middle of nowhere was a bad move.

“My name is Christian White,” he said from above me.

I almost laughed. Of course his name was White. Given how pale his hair and eyes and everything about him were, how could it be anything else?

Blinking, I pushed aside the insane flash of amusement. How hard had I hit my head?

Before I could shift back into a sitting position, a large hand grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked me to my knees. I shook my head to clear it and then looked up to find Christian White grinning down at me.

“But you can call memaster,” he finished with that cold smile on his face.

It took everything I had not to snort. Keeping my sharp tongue firmly behind my teeth, I just held his gaze with unflinching eyes instead.

He released my collar and instead pointed down at his brown leather boot. “You got vomit on it. Wipe it off.”

I glared up at him in stubborn silence for a second. But I needed all of my brain cells if I was going to figure out a way out of this damn mess, so I couldn’t afford another blow to the head.

While stifling a snarl, I broke eye contact and glowered down at his boot. I had indeed gotten a few specks of vomit on it when I threw up earlier. Shifting the heavy manacles around my wrist, I pulled my sleeve up over my hand as best as I could and then wiped off the bits of vomit.

White let out a smug chuckle.

If I’d had a knife, I would’ve stabbed it in his foot. But I didn’t, so I settled for an angry scowl.

“Get up,” he commanded.

But before I could even begin to follow his order, he grabbed me by the arm and hauled me to my feet. I stumbled over the grass as he dragged me towards the cabin.