Red Rider RIsing: Book 2 of the Red Rider Saga by D.A. Randall (best books to read for beginners .TXT) 📗

another swig of wine, eyeing me strangely. “You know – I like the way you look there, writhing.”

My throat went dry. I glanced back down at the crossbow.

He rose slowly to his feet and staggered once. I hoped he might fall over unconscious, but 325

he wasn’t drunk enough. “About this power, Mademoiselle. It increases everything. Not just our strength. It also increases our appetites. I need to eat more, smoke more. Drink more.” He lifted the flask. Then his eyes narrowed and traveled the length of my body. “I need more of everything.”

I stiffened. As he took another swig, I made broader strokes against each rope.

He returned his attention to me and I stopped. He smiled, as if recalling a private joke.

“You know, I crave things now that I never wanted before. Never even thought of wanting. Strange things, like seeing a woman – or a child – suffer.”

My whole body pulsed and quivered.

Jacquard seemed to delight in it, as he approached me in small, measured steps. “Good thing is, brave Mademoiselle, that now I can satisfy all my cravings. No matter how wild they get.”

He set his flask at his feet and stood directly before me, smiling and reeking of alcohol.

He reached up and gently drew back my hood.

Uncovering my eyes and hair and my scarred face.

He snorted. “Not too bad, for all that.” He nodded at my triple wounds. “Almost pretty.

Anyhow, you’ll do.”

I fought to stay calm. To keep from jerking away at his touch, as he stroked my hair below the gag.

He undid the knot and pulled the cloth free.

I gasped, sucking air into my stale mouth. He seized my face, cutting off my deep breaths. I panicked and tried to pull away but his grip was too strong, squeezing my cheeks tightly the way 326

Laurent had. But Jacquard’s fingers jabbed my skin and pressed against my teeth, determined to produce pain.

I shook in the ropes. I cut at them again with a single swipe, while he stood an inch from my face. Then I cut again. And again.

“I know, sweet thing,” Jacquard said, enjoying my discomfort. “I’m supposed to leave you unharmed for tonight. For the others. But I figure, when someone’s already this damaged, who’s gonna notice a few more cuts and bruises?”

I seethed, clenching my teeth to speak. “I couldn’t agree more, Monsieur,” I said as I sawed through the last fibers.

The ropes fell like logs to the ground as my wrists dropped. Jacquard blinked at me, trying to grasp what had happened. I tensed my numb arms and drove my bladed gloves into his sides. His eyes bulged. Then the pain pushed through his stupor and he screamed, a horrid animal cry. He knocked over the flask at his feet and it shattered as his knees buckled. He clutched at my waist to stay upright.

I tore the blades free and shoved them into him again. He cried out as the blood clung to my knives. I shook, wanting it to end. Wanting him to be a wolf, so I wouldn’t feel like vomiting, as I stabbed him again. He sank slowly, as tears streamed down my cheeks and his fingers lost their hold.

He crumpled to the ground and collapsed on his broken flask.

I collapsed onto him, exhausted.

327

I had just killed a man. Not a wolf, but a man. And I could do nothing to take it back.

What had I become?

Something banged from the rear of the barn, behind the platform. I started suddenly and lifted my head to listen. Had they left another guard behind? Something struck low against the wall again like thunder, much harder than a human could have.

Crimson.

I pushed myself off of Jacquard and stretched toward my bound ankles. I couldn’t hope to return to a standing position with my feet so far apart, but I stretched enough to saw through the rope encircling the inside of my heel. Once I freed my other foot, I shook my