Chapter 256
Chapter 256
Avery’s POV
The rogue camp was exactly what I pictured. Haphazard. Tents creating wobbly pathways of mud and stone. The scent of sweat and blood in the air.
But I didn’t expect this one to be so large. It was more than just an encampment-it was like a small village. I tried to count the people as I passed, but I eventually lost track. My captors, led by Deirdre, moved too quickly for me to make much sense of it.
I only knew one thing for certain.
I needed to get the hell out of here.
But how? I was massively outnumbered. The males were leering at me with jagged teeth and hungry eyes like they already owned me, tongues darting out to wet dry lips. The females were glaring at me as if they had plans to get rid of me before my first night here was up.
No. Making a run for it and fighting my way out wasn’t an option, not when I was completely surrounded by enemies.
“Through here,” Deirdre barked, pulling aside the flap of a tent. This one was far larger than the others, and situated in the center of the encampment. Two guards were standing outside. One was picking at the dirt under his nails with a pocket knife and the other was counting coins in his hands that he probably got through nefarious means, but they were both watching me out of the corners of their eyes.
The ones who were holding me by the arms roughly pushed me into the tent. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but then I saw him.
The Rogue King.
He sat on a wooden throne made of branches that spiked outwards, sharpened at the tips like spears. A bundle of feathers hung from one of the branches near his head. A wolf’s pelt was draped over the seat. A snarl built in my throat at the sight of the dead animal’s glassy eyes staring at me from between the rogue’s legs. The wolf deserved more respect than becoming a seat cover.
The rest of the tent was lavishly furnished. There was a large, hexagonal table with a map spread across it and multiple pieces in various shapes strewn about like a bad game of chess. Rugs covered the floors, some pelts of various animals, others clearly stolen. A fire pit sat off to the side, the scent of fresh meat coming from a pot that an old woman was stirring.
Off to the other side was another flap that was slightly open. I could see a bed in there, covered in furs and pillows.
“Come forward,” he called out. The guards pushed me toward him. I stumbled, but I didn’t fall. I refused
I lifted my chin and studied the so-called “king”. He leaned lazily on one arm of his throne, watching me with his one good eye. The males standing around him were dirty and clad in leather that was stained
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Chapter 256
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with old blood, but he was impeccable. Clean. Tidy. Fastidious almost to a fault.
“What do you want from me?” I hissed. “Or did you just invite me for tea p>
He pulled his head back and smirked. “Just as feisty as I remember.” He waved his hand, and the guards left. I stared at them as they sauntered out of the tent single-file.
Deirdre went last, lingering a moment too long until the Rogue King flicked his hand at her, too. She sneered at me, then followed the others.
The old woman remained, but the Rogue King didn’t seem to notice her, and she didn’t seem to notice us. She just kept stirring her pot.
Once we were alone, excluding the old woman, the Rogue King stood. His steps were slow and deliberate, hushed across the plush carpets. He came to stand in front of me, mere inches away. I took a step back, but he simply leaned forward, closing the distance once more.
“You know why I want you,” he whispered. His eyes flicked to my mouth, and he wet his lips. “You’re special, Avery. Too special to give away to another man who doesn’t appreciate you nearly enough p>
I snorted. “I’m not ‘special’. Those legends about my wolf are just that: legends p>
“So you say.” He straightened, smiling so that the skin crinkled around his eyepatch. “Dine with me p>
“What?” Why the hell would he think I’d want to have a meal with him, of all people?
His lips curved. “You must be hungry. We can talk more over a meal. I can tell you all about your heritage -and why your wolf isn’t just a legend p>
Before I could answer, the Rogue King snapped his fingers, and the old woman stood. She hobbled over to the hexagonal table and set down two bowls of steaming stew, then poured two cups of wine from a pitcher.
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