Thorn Rose (PUBLISHED)

Chapter 8 - Can't fight me

The faint metallic tang of blood greeted Faylin's tongue.

She was vaguely aware of Tore pushing her away, mind racing with one thousand thoughts. 

He forced himself on me!

Gasping, her trembling hand flew to her mouth with the realization of what had just occurred.

He could not blame her! She was, after all, a Bride of Christ.

Her eyes looked up to find Tore staring at her – his expression unreadable.

You did this, she thought.

Like a predator hunting his prey, Tore watched her as he ran his tongue along his bleeding lower lip, hissing quietly as the cut stung. He walked towards her, closing the distance.

For a moment, she half expected him to slap her, but he merely took hold of her nape and leaned forward until his forehead pressed against her own. With his lips inches from hers she found herself questioning if he would try to kiss her again.

She hoped not.

It seemed that this was a game for him. He was testing her boundaries and waiting...waiting for her to pull away, disgusted and afraid of him.

Tore smirked as she closed her eyes.

"Why is it that I repulse you so much?" he asked her, his warm breath washing over her face.

Faylin almost scoffed at his ridiculous question, but thought better of it. Slowly she opened her eyes, focusing on his face. His blue gaze was unsettling.

"You, along with many others, trampled a holy place with your dirty feet, sacked my village, killed innocent people and you expect me to...to like you?"  Faylin snapped, fixing him with a withering glare.

"You seem to forget I also took you by force." He reminded her with slight amusement lacing his voice.

Faylin roared in anger, pushing him away roughly and charged at him, her small fist raised towards his face. Though he was caught by surprise at her attitude, he couldn't help smiling at her anger.

With a laugh, Tore dodged her throw, amused at her feeble try to hurt him. He was six feet, plus several inches, of masculine strength that towered over her by far, but she held no fear within her. This attitude of hers fascinated him.

He caught her wrist before she could try hitting him again.

"You can't fight me, Faylin. You'll hurt yourself trying," he said, looking down into her hazel eyes, which were dark with emotion, willing her to understand. Faylin flinched as Tore used his calloused thumb to wipe away the tears she hadn't realized she'd shed.

The door opened just then and the moment was broken. Two young women entered, almost dropping the heavy iron pot they carried between them at the sight of Tore in the room.

"J-Jarl Tore!"

Despite her blurring vision, Faylin noticed that the women's cheeks were flushed. She stepped away from him. Her face too grew warm with embarrassment. She did not want them to get the wrong idea.

Dropping his hand, Tore exhaled and left the room, without glancing back.

Faylin puffed out a frightened sigh, her heart beating erratically in her chest. The women walked over to the basin and lifted the iron pot, pouring the water inside of it. After that, they looked at her, expectantly. Faylin hesitated for a moment, her eyes riveting toward the door. Letting out a sigh of defeat, she started undressing herself.

Stepping inside the large wooden structure, Faylin lowered herself into the warm water. As she began detangling her long hair, the women proceeded to cleanse her face with a cloth. She thought she could use someone to talk to. Biting her lip, Faylin wondered if she should talk to them or not.

Maybe they would like her. And if she was lucky, they might even help her escape this place.