sorry,
Wisty,” she sobbed.
“You’re not to blame,” Wisteria said but she wasn’t certain
her voice rose above her own ears. Ivy had begged for Wisteria’s life and in
truth she’d rather perish than unite with Sledge.
Heavy footsteps echoed in the distance, slapping the ground
as they drew near. Wisteria looked beyond her people and saw her father emerge
from the back side of the fire. “What’s this?” he shouted. “Sledge, have you―”
He stopped abruptly, spotting the Barbarian tribe lined across the yard,
outnumbering their clan by at least two men to one.
With everyone’s attention focused on her dad, Sledge raised
the whip and swung at the Barbarian. The man caught the tip in his hand in
midair. He wound it around his palm and yanked. Sledge immediately released his
end to prevent being pulled forward. He raised his arms and backed up,
obviously realizing he’d made a grave mistake. “She’s not badly hurt,” he
blurted.
The Barbarian took a single step forward. “Not badly hurt?
Her flesh is torn.”
Wisteria leaned her head against the tree and rubbed her
eyes, hoping to clear the haze. The Barbarians had no hearts. Why would they
care what had happened to her?
Sledge strode backward, halting when his heels grazed the rocks
surrounding the fire pit. The Barbarian followed, which sent the clan people
scurrying to the entrances of their caves.
“She will unite with me in six days,” Sledge said, his voice
now low and calm. “But I found her in the arms of an unrelated tribesman,” he
added as if hoping the declaration would justify his actions.
The Barbarian clutched the neckline of Sledge’s frock in his
fists. A trail of gasps emerged from the clan when the man lifted Sledge
straight into the air. His feet dangled above the ground as the Barbarian
carried him to the tree opposite Wisteria and slammed him against the trunk.
She cringed at the sound and squeezed her eyes closed. As
much as she detested Sledge and wouldn’t deny she preferred him dead, she
couldn’t watch.
When silence reigned, she opened her eyes to witness the
Barbarian releasing Sledge, letting him crumple to the ground. With the finesse
of a cave lion, the man walked circles around the trees, eying both her and
Sledge. Too terrified to look at his mask for fear of angering him further, she
lowered her gaze to the ground.
From the corner of her eye she watched him crouch low and
lift Sledge’s head by a fistful of hair. She thought he might break Sledge’s
neck or scalp him. Instead he backhanded Sledge so hard across the face, blood
spurted from his nose. “I should gut you with my bare hands,” he growled.
Wisteria’s gaze followed the man as he stood and turned,
addressing his men. “Settle her on my mount,” he ordered.
She gulped and panic shot through her chest. She suddenly
wished she was still bound and being whipped because she feared it’d be less
painful than what she’d endure in captivity. But she wasn’t going to cry or beg
for her life. She no longer had a future with her clan. Sledge embedded in
their minds that she’d deceived them and in a sense she had.
“Please, don’t hurt my sister,” Ivy pleaded. “She’s the only
one I have. I love her.”
Ivy, don’t. Don’t humiliate yourself. He doesn’t care. The Barbarians probably killed their own just to quench their thirst by
drinking the blood.
As a man lifted Wisteria, burning pain tore through her
belly and thighs. She winced right before she briefly passed out. When she
regained consciousness she was being carried toward the large black horse. Her
arms and feet bobbed and warm blood bubbled from her cuts. Would the Barbarians
spare her clan or leave them in a bloodbath?
The Barbarian’s deep, menacing voice crept into her
near-unconscious state. “You’ve abused this woman, disregarding her safety. She
could’ve been killed and none of you but this young girl spoke on her behalf.
In my eyes, in my land, she’s now
Wisty,” she sobbed.
“You’re not to blame,” Wisteria said but she wasn’t certain
her voice rose above her own ears. Ivy had begged for Wisteria’s life and in
truth she’d rather perish than unite with Sledge.
Heavy footsteps echoed in the distance, slapping the ground
as they drew near. Wisteria looked beyond her people and saw her father emerge
from the back side of the fire. “What’s this?” he shouted. “Sledge, have you―”
He stopped abruptly, spotting the Barbarian tribe lined across the yard,
outnumbering their clan by at least two men to one.
With everyone’s attention focused on her dad, Sledge raised
the whip and swung at the Barbarian. The man caught the tip in his hand in
midair. He wound it around his palm and yanked. Sledge immediately released his
end to prevent being pulled forward. He raised his arms and backed up,
obviously realizing he’d made a grave mistake. “She’s not badly hurt,” he
blurted.
The Barbarian took a single step forward. “Not badly hurt?
Her flesh is torn.”
Wisteria leaned her head against the tree and rubbed her
eyes, hoping to clear the haze. The Barbarians had no hearts. Why would they
care what had happened to her?
Sledge strode backward, halting when his heels grazed the rocks
surrounding the fire pit. The Barbarian followed, which sent the clan people
scurrying to the entrances of their caves.
“She will unite with me in six days,” Sledge said, his voice
now low and calm. “But I found her in the arms of an unrelated tribesman,” he
added as if hoping the declaration would justify his actions.
The Barbarian clutched the neckline of Sledge’s frock in his
fists. A trail of gasps emerged from the clan when the man lifted Sledge
straight into the air. His feet dangled above the ground as the Barbarian
carried him to the tree opposite Wisteria and slammed him against the trunk.
She cringed at the sound and squeezed her eyes closed. As
much as she detested Sledge and wouldn’t deny she preferred him dead, she
couldn’t watch.
When silence reigned, she opened her eyes to witness the
Barbarian releasing Sledge, letting him crumple to the ground. With the finesse
of a cave lion, the man walked circles around the trees, eying both her and
Sledge. Too terrified to look at his mask for fear of angering him further, she
lowered her gaze to the ground.
From the corner of her eye she watched him crouch low and
lift Sledge’s head by a fistful of hair. She thought he might break Sledge’s
neck or scalp him. Instead he backhanded Sledge so hard across the face, blood
spurted from his nose. “I should gut you with my bare hands,” he growled.
Wisteria’s gaze followed the man as he stood and turned,
addressing his men. “Settle her on my mount,” he ordered.
She gulped and panic shot through her chest. She suddenly
wished she was still bound and being whipped because she feared it’d be less
painful than what she’d endure in captivity. But she wasn’t going to cry or beg
for her life. She no longer had a future with her clan. Sledge embedded in
their minds that she’d deceived them and in a sense she had.
“Please, don’t hurt my sister,” Ivy pleaded. “She’s the only
one I have. I love her.”
Ivy, don’t. Don’t humiliate yourself. He doesn’t care. The Barbarians probably killed their own just to quench their thirst by
drinking the blood.
As a man lifted Wisteria, burning pain tore through her
belly and thighs. She winced right before she briefly passed out. When she
regained consciousness she was being carried toward the large black horse. Her
arms and feet bobbed and warm blood bubbled from her cuts. Would the Barbarians
spare her clan or leave them in a bloodbath?
The Barbarian’s deep, menacing voice crept into her
near-unconscious state. “You’ve abused this woman, disregarding her safety. She
could’ve been killed and none of you but this young girl spoke on her behalf.
In my eyes, in my land, she’s now
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