His eyes soften, and he presses his palm to his chest. I open my mouth to scream, and he backs off, his hands out in front of him again. “Taylor.” He says my name with a rolling r, something like a purr. “Changeling language?” he asks, the words so heavily accented I almost can’t catch them. He stops, his dark brows drawing together. He speaks in the foreign language I can’t follow. The ears pointing out of his hair attest to that. With an angular face, sharp nose, and hulking body, he’s easily the most striking man I’ve ever seen. His skin is tan, and his eyes aren’t just dark, they’re like onyx. His black hair falls to his shoulders, and he wears a gray shirt and black leathery pants.

He’s a dark slash on the white stone of the walls and the pastel décor. In the soft light that filters through the high windows, he looks out of place here. When I say it, he closes his eyes as if he’s heard something unimaginably beautiful. I clutch the dark fur so hard my fingers ache. “Taylor.” He says my name almost reverently in his heavy accent. He holds his hands out, palms toward me and eases to the edge of the bed. “Leave me alone.” My voice shakes, and I’m weak, but I’ll fight till my last breath. I yank the fur up to my chin and backpedal until I hit the headboard. The other dark-haired man says a few words to him before leaving, the heavy wood door clicking shut behind him as I’m left alone with the terrifying brute. I yelp when I find the brute from earlier staring at me from only a few paces away. My head pounds, and I’m parched as I peer around the room. I’m in a huge bed with a canopy of white gauzy material overhead. Somehow, I’m clean, even though I distinctly remember peeing all over myself when I was certain I was about to die. It slides off to reveal a simple black tunic that swallows me. My scratchy shift is gone, and I’m draped in some sort of fur despite the warmth. A strangled sound sticks in my throat as I roll over and sit up. I freeze and remember, the last twenty-four hours crashing down on me like a tidal wave. It smells heavenly, like leather and wood smoke and some sort of tall tree with snow on the boughs. They usually get the boot as soon as she’s done riding them. Odd for him to still be here in the morning, though.

Cecile must have brought home her newest boytoy last night. The last thing I sense is his strong arms scooping me up. He pulls me against him, his arms like iron bars across my back. I fight his grip, but he’s a wall of steel. I scream when he touches me, his large palm grasping my upper arm. I can’t catch my breath, my chest heaving.

My master is a nightmare, but this man is an enormous brute. I’m going to be punished, killed, or worse. I fold in on myself, my head down, my heart floundering.

Fae's Captive by Lily Archer