The Lethal Flame (Flame Series) by Angie Arms Read Free Book Online Page A

away.  He jerked her back in line only for her to try to jerk free again.  “Let me go!”
    With a growl of agitation he picked her up, effortlessly tucking her under his arm as she thrashed.  Once he pinned her hands in his free one she had little recourse but to endure the walk back to the room.  As the tapestry fell down over the doorway The-man-on-the-gray-horse flung her to the floor.  She scrambled to her feet, awkwardly fighting with the cloth all the way.  The men had dismissed her so she moved away, first toward the bed then thinking better of it toward the large chest on the other side of the chamber.
    The men conversed amongst themselves and she strained to hear but their voices came to her in hushed tones so she chose to ignore them.  This created the dilemma that made it impossible to turn her mind off as she struggled with all the fears tumbling about in her head.  Her children, their future, her future, would she ever even see her children again?  
      Their conversation halted and both men were looking directly at her.  She lifted her head casting them a look of contempt in an effort to intimidate them into keeping their distance.  The-man-in-the-hood did not heed it but walked toward her removing his hood.  Her gaze traveled from his hands that were scarred by burns upward, until she was craning her neck back to see him.  His face was likewise burned but the scars did not end there.  One eye had apparently been mangled by the blade that left the deep scars around it, as if someone had carved it from his head while he struggled.  She had to wonder if the people who had done the damage to his eye had also tried to cut his tongue from his head for the scars around his mouth gave a satirical twist to his lips.  A blade had filleted his face from his cheekbone down to his chin on both sides.   Behind the scars his jaw was strong like Damien’s and they shared the same tilt to the cheekbones, the same gray-green to their eyes, at least the scarred man’s good one. 
    “I am Sir Cyrille Le Forte,” he said, his gravelly voice must be another result of the flame that had torched his skin.  “My brother Damian has kindly given you to me.”
    She was cold, from her head to her toes a cold dread settled into her bones because she knew it would begin again.  It wasn’t the thought of Cyrille and his scars it was the thought that now her life and body could be given and taken so freely.  She dropped her head to stare at her hands, her mind working on how to get out of this.  She heard him crouch beside her but like a coward she refused to look at him.  He lifted a piece of her damp hair and rubbed it between his fingers before smoothing it behind her ear. 
    “Does your offer still stand?” he asked turning his attention back to Damian.
    Keri lifted her head and looked across the room at the man that now had a name.  Somehow it didn’t make the man less surreal.  She willed him to retract the offer.  Why would she want that, wasn’t one just as bad as the other?  He stared at her but she could not read his thoughts behind his strong façade.  The time seemed to tick by when his voice finally broke the silence she jumped.   “She is yours.”  He turned smartly and left the room, the tapestry falling closed behind him as if he had slammed it.
    A moment more passed before Cyrille spoke to her.  “I will not hurt you.”  She swallowed, feeling as if she would choke on the fear that lodged itself there and stole her breath. 
    “Why would you choose not to hurt me?” she asked the big man beside her, not believing those words.
    “I know what it is like to be a prisoner.”
    Keri felt like crying wanting so much to believe that she would feel no pain for the rest of this night.  Her hands were of no use to her and she had little chance of winning a fight, she felt foolish even giving herself a small chance.  She glanced to the big bed.  Would she have to share it with Damien