grasp.
He growled in fury and swung around to the left, feeling some satisfaction as his fist connected with a solid jaw. Before he could relish the howl of outrage from his attacker, the back of his head exploded in pain. He crumpled to his knees, saw an iron pot spattered with he could only assume was his blood. He mustered all his strength, willing himself to stay conscious. The bitch! She’d sent him into a trap!
He began to wobble then felt a hard foot kick him onto his stomach. The edges of his vision blurred, narrowing until all his mind’s eye could see were a pair of lying emerald eyes. The blackness enveloped him and he fell into the void.
Chapter Three
Kill her. Kill her. Kill her.
T he refrain played in his head like a drum until the sheer force of the emotion behind it dragged him back to consciousness. With effort, Jared pried his eyes open and stared into total darkness. No light, no shadows to bridge the cold, wet chasm. So this was death?
A twinge of disappointment at the bleakness of the afterlife took him by surprise. Why should it bother him? Unlike his uncle, he’d never believed in the existence of paradise.
His head felt weighted as though twenty bars of iron had replaced his skull. Slowly, he turned it to the right, not fully convinced it was going to stay attached. A groan rolled from his lips as an excruciating pain gripped his neck, spreading like fire into his shoulders. Gods, it felt like a bird of prey had dug its talons into his brain.
Before his muddled thoughts could comprehend the reality that he was alive, the hard floor beneath him tilted sharply, rolling his stretched out form across an uneven surface. He stopped only when a chain attached to his wrists snapped out straight, jerking his shoulders into agony and his addled brain into terrifying clarity.
Another pitch and roll and his battered body slammed back against a wall. Splintered wood gouged into his bare shoulders. Jared grabbed the tether in his hands and using the momentum of the swaying room, hoisted himself to a sitting position. Disoriented, he pushed back the waves of dizziness and braced his legs against the floor. This time when the room shifted, he stayed in place.
His vision blurred, but he didn’t need to see to know he was on a ship. A ship in the midst of a tremendous storm. The vessel groaned in protest, every timber creaking and shuddering so violently with each new cresting of a wave he was certain it was disintegrating.
His nostrils flared. The sharp scent of pitch permeated the airless hold. Necessary to waterproof the hull of a ship, a good seafarer would use generous amounts of the thick substance inside and out. Another wave hit the ship, saltwater seeping along the seam at his back. Gods.
He shifted but there was no comfort to be found. Coupled with the smell of moldy grain, the erratic motion of the ship, and his head wound, it was all he could do not to vomit. He forced himself to breath slow and deep until the nausea faded but to no avail. Gripping the chain, he leaned over and emptied his stomach.
How in the name of Hades had he ended up chained and on a ship? Vaguely, he remembered going to the warehouses across the harbor. It had been a short journey, from where Jared couldn’t quite grasp. But he had been searching for something. Searching for what? He squeezed his eyes tight, pushed back the pain the action brought, tried to recall.
The thefts! He had been searching for his stolen merchandise. Something had led him to the abandoned buildings. Damn, why couldn’t he remember?
The throbbing in his head increased with the effort to bring to mind the exact events. Someone. . . someone had instructed him to go there, but that came more from a feeling, an impression, rather than an actual memory.
Jared tilted his head back against the wall. That was all he could glean from his fogged brain save the sensation of a very heavy, very hard object crashing across the back of his skull.
He growled in fury and swung around to the left, feeling some satisfaction as his fist connected with a solid jaw. Before he could relish the howl of outrage from his attacker, the back of his head exploded in pain. He crumpled to his knees, saw an iron pot spattered with he could only assume was his blood. He mustered all his strength, willing himself to stay conscious. The bitch! She’d sent him into a trap!
He began to wobble then felt a hard foot kick him onto his stomach. The edges of his vision blurred, narrowing until all his mind’s eye could see were a pair of lying emerald eyes. The blackness enveloped him and he fell into the void.
Chapter Three
Kill her. Kill her. Kill her.
T he refrain played in his head like a drum until the sheer force of the emotion behind it dragged him back to consciousness. With effort, Jared pried his eyes open and stared into total darkness. No light, no shadows to bridge the cold, wet chasm. So this was death?
A twinge of disappointment at the bleakness of the afterlife took him by surprise. Why should it bother him? Unlike his uncle, he’d never believed in the existence of paradise.
His head felt weighted as though twenty bars of iron had replaced his skull. Slowly, he turned it to the right, not fully convinced it was going to stay attached. A groan rolled from his lips as an excruciating pain gripped his neck, spreading like fire into his shoulders. Gods, it felt like a bird of prey had dug its talons into his brain.
Before his muddled thoughts could comprehend the reality that he was alive, the hard floor beneath him tilted sharply, rolling his stretched out form across an uneven surface. He stopped only when a chain attached to his wrists snapped out straight, jerking his shoulders into agony and his addled brain into terrifying clarity.
Another pitch and roll and his battered body slammed back against a wall. Splintered wood gouged into his bare shoulders. Jared grabbed the tether in his hands and using the momentum of the swaying room, hoisted himself to a sitting position. Disoriented, he pushed back the waves of dizziness and braced his legs against the floor. This time when the room shifted, he stayed in place.
His vision blurred, but he didn’t need to see to know he was on a ship. A ship in the midst of a tremendous storm. The vessel groaned in protest, every timber creaking and shuddering so violently with each new cresting of a wave he was certain it was disintegrating.
His nostrils flared. The sharp scent of pitch permeated the airless hold. Necessary to waterproof the hull of a ship, a good seafarer would use generous amounts of the thick substance inside and out. Another wave hit the ship, saltwater seeping along the seam at his back. Gods.
He shifted but there was no comfort to be found. Coupled with the smell of moldy grain, the erratic motion of the ship, and his head wound, it was all he could do not to vomit. He forced himself to breath slow and deep until the nausea faded but to no avail. Gripping the chain, he leaned over and emptied his stomach.
How in the name of Hades had he ended up chained and on a ship? Vaguely, he remembered going to the warehouses across the harbor. It had been a short journey, from where Jared couldn’t quite grasp. But he had been searching for something. Searching for what? He squeezed his eyes tight, pushed back the pain the action brought, tried to recall.
The thefts! He had been searching for his stolen merchandise. Something had led him to the abandoned buildings. Damn, why couldn’t he remember?
The throbbing in his head increased with the effort to bring to mind the exact events. Someone. . . someone had instructed him to go there, but that came more from a feeling, an impression, rather than an actual memory.
Jared tilted his head back against the wall. That was all he could glean from his fogged brain save the sensation of a very heavy, very hard object crashing across the back of his skull.
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