Cruel Empathy ✓

Chapter 3

***Ryevin***

Ryevin had waited for this day for a long while. Anna, his intended. Her beauty pleased him, but she seemed too skittish, too frail. She was afraid of him. His stomach dropped when he thought of what she called him. A soulless killer. Killing the slave boy in front of her was a mistake, he knew. Ryevin gave the boy a quick death. A death of honor when he had bestowed the last rites upon him. A Warlord giving the rites to a peasant slave. Yes, it was a worthy death.

"Why do you cower from me still? I told you I will not hurt you," Ryevin asked softly. Her eyes were filled with distrust as they made contact with him.

"So, Ryevin, Warlord of the Northlands, what do you want with me?" She was still shaking fiercely, but did not take her eyes from his.

"My short name is Rye. You can call me that if you like." He hoped he could ease her fear by losing the formality.

"Fine. Rye, what do you want with me?" What did he want with her? Everything. Her allegiance, her power, her body, her love.

"For now, you will accompany me to the Northlands." He had to tread carefully.

"No," she asserted. "I won't go anywhere with you." Her blue eyes sparked with defiance. It was breathtaking. She had more fire than he had thought.

"You have no choice," he reasoned. They had to get moving. His men were waiting near the horses, probably anxious for his return. "Come, I will carry you."

"Like hell!" Anna sputtered, trying to move away from him. Undeterred, he scooped her up in his arms and she kicked and squirmed a bit until she eventually relented.

As he walked back toward camp, he enjoyed the feeling of her in his arms. Her legs were so smooth. Curious he rubbed his hand back and forth on her thighs. She tensed from his touch, and he forced himself to stop. His irritation, however, started to grow when he noticed that she kept tilting her head back trying to get as far from him as possible. After several moments of this, he could no longer bear it.

"Stop that!" He snapped. She stilled.

"I...you...you smell," she admitted. Then quickly added, "No offense."

He grunted. He was aware then of his state. Covered in dry blood and sweat from battle. He repulsed her.

"There is a lake near the camp. Could we wash there? Please, Rye," she asked softly. His heart swelled at the sound of his name on her lips. It wasn't a big ask. He could do that for her.

"We will have to be quick. My men are awaiting us," he replied gruffly. She gave him a reassuring nod and flashed him a sweet smile. He was mesmerized by the whiteness of her teeth. He had never seen a woman so beautiful. For the rest of the journey she seemed in much higher spirits. He laughed to himself. That was it? A promise of a bath? Women were such simple creatures! He felt his own spirits start to lift at the thought.

*** Anna***

Anna may not be able to out fight this warlord, but she certainly could outwit him. She didn't have the strength, but she had the cunning. She started to feel giddy at the thought of home. It was funny that the place she never felt she belonged was the place she yearned for the most. What she wouldn't give to feel secure and safe again.

She never really had much of a family. She got along with most of her foster placements well enough, but they never truly loved her like a daughter. Most tolerated her, some even liked her, but a parent's love? No, she never really had that.

She may not have family, but for goodness sake she had a life! A life filled with school and track. She had goals. She was going to be a special education teacher one day. Maybe one day she would find a boyfriend whose feelings didn't repulse her.