He rotates to the shelf again and turns back with an unmarked gray surcoat and pants. As he gives them to me, our fingers brush. He jerks away first and resumes his stoic position by the shelf. I clench and unclench my hand, hating that my skin tingles where he touched me.
He is Hector.
The Bloodstone’s Chieftain!
Hate him.
Oh, please hate him.
ChapterFour
After my bath, Hector leads me down an expansive corridor. He stops at the last door and pushes it open. Inside the windowless room sits a lumpy mattress and three blankets.
Hector nods toward the mattress. “You will sleep in here tonight.”
“Are you afraid I will destroy the furniture and use it as a weapon?” I ask, the frustration thick in my voice.
“You might.” He grabs my hands and ties the rope around them. A strange red thread interweaves with the strands.
“What is that?”
“Bloodstone.”
A gasp slips from my lips as I try to yank my hands apart, but Hector tied the rope too tight.
“Get rid of it,” I burst out.
Taut lines appear across his brow. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I don’t want it on my body.”
He shrugs. “Without it, you cannot heal anyone.”
Irritation crashes over me as I glower. “I will not heal any of you.”
“You already did.” He jerks my bound hands to his chest, to the precise area my throwing knife had pierced his body. “And if I ask you to again, you will.”
Frustrating, annoying, bossy bastard!
I most certainly will not.
“Let me go.” With my palms against his chest, I try to push against him, but he’s too strong.
“You don’t give the orders,” Hector says, his words only fueling my anger.
Barbarian or no barbarian, I am not afraid of him, even if he is much stronger. I rise on my toes and lurch into him. He plucks me off my feet and drops me in the center of the lumpy mattress.
To him, I’m nothing more than an ant.
Fine. If I’m an ant, I’m going to bite him.
A lot.
“Don’t test my patience,” he says, his voice low and honed with caution.
“Or what?” Defiance sparks through me as I lift my chin.
“You do not want to find out what I’m capable of.”
