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The great hall was absolutely packed. The air was hazy and thick with the smell of smoke, roasted meat, spices, bread, and wine. The walls were adorned with tapestries in all the colors of the rainbow. Berenike found them a little tacky, but she kept that to herself. It wasn’t her wedding, after all, but she was definitely judging the bride harshly for her taste. At the far end of the table two eunuchs were singing but Berenike could only just hear them over the roar of the party. There were at least a hundred people attending this wedding and while Berenike knew many of them she couldn’t honestly say that she liked any of them.
Still, she was determined to have a good time.
Nicky chatted happily with two women that were about her age, talking about nothing and everything all at once. She was drinking cup after cup of sweet wine until her head began to swim. It was the only way she could find this entertaining, but eventually she began to feel sick and excused herself. When she rose to her feet, she fought hard to not to wobble and hoped it looked convincing. She didn’t want people to see just how drunk she was.
Berenike left the house of the people whose name she could no longer recall. It was decidedly cooler outside and she breathed a sigh of relief. All the heat in there made her feel sticky, overheated and worn out. The wind whipping off the river was cool and refreshing even though Egypt was hot and muggy. She set off in the direction of her own home, trying to keep the bile down and managing not to stumble too much. It was not so dark that Berenike couldn’t see. The moon was either full or nearly full— someone smarter could answer that question, maybe one of the priests. It sent precious little light down. There were a few wispy clouds out tonight, and through them faint twinkles of stars could be seen.
Home was not far, Berenike told herself. All she had to do was find the canal, follow it for a bit, turn right at that one palm tree, and keep walking straight. The rest was all uphill. She groaned and dramatically threw her head back at the horrible thought of having to walk uphill while drunk like this. Her body felt too sluggish to walk up a hill. The sudden movement of her head and her wig made her nausea worse. She turned to retch in the first thing she could, which was the Canal while holding her wig to her head.
It was most undignified. Berenike stayed hunched over long after she’d finished, gasping and embarrassed at the lines of spit coming from her lips. She stared into the dark waters of the canal. Is this what her life had become? She was still just some drunken party girl wandering home. Is that, she wondered, all that life had to offer her?
When she finally rose, her mouth wiped perfectly clean, her back ached and her sore stomach muscles complained. She walked off on shaking legs.
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The great hall was absolutely packed. The air was hazy and thick with the smell of smoke, roasted meat, spices, bread, and wine. The walls were adorned with tapestries in all the colors of the rainbow. Berenike found them a little tacky, but she kept that to herself. It wasn’t her wedding, after all, but she was definitely judging the bride harshly for her taste. At the far end of the table two eunuchs were singing but Berenike could only just hear them over the roar of the party. There were at least a hundred people attending this wedding and while Berenike knew many of them she couldn’t honestly say that she liked any of them.
Still, she was determined to have a good time.
Nicky chatted happily with two women that were about her age, talking about nothing and everything all at once. She was drinking cup after cup of sweet wine until her head began to swim. It was the only way she could find this entertaining, but eventually she began to feel sick and excused herself. When she rose to her feet, she fought hard to not to wobble and hoped it looked convincing. She didn’t want people to see just how drunk she was.
Berenike left the house of the people whose name she could no longer recall. It was decidedly cooler outside and she breathed a sigh of relief. All the heat in there made her feel sticky, overheated and worn out. The wind whipping off the river was cool and refreshing even though Egypt was hot and muggy. She set off in the direction of her own home, trying to keep the bile down and managing not to stumble too much. It was not so dark that Berenike couldn’t see. The moon was either full or nearly full— someone smarter could answer that question, maybe one of the priests. It sent precious little light down. There were a few wispy clouds out tonight, and through them faint twinkles of stars could be seen.
Home was not far, Berenike told herself. All she had to do was find the canal, follow it for a bit, turn right at that one palm tree, and keep walking straight. The rest was all uphill. She groaned and dramatically threw her head back at the horrible thought of having to walk uphill while drunk like this. Her body felt too sluggish to walk up a hill. The sudden movement of her head and her wig made her nausea worse. She turned to retch in the first thing she could, which was the Canal while holding her wig to her head.
It was most undignified. Berenike stayed hunched over long after she’d finished, gasping and embarrassed at the lines of spit coming from her lips. She stared into the dark waters of the canal. Is this what her life had become? She was still just some drunken party girl wandering home. Is that, she wondered, all that life had to offer her?
When she finally rose, her mouth wiped perfectly clean, her back ached and her sore stomach muscles complained. She walked off on shaking legs.
The great hall was absolutely packed. The air was hazy and thick with the smell of smoke, roasted meat, spices, bread, and wine. The walls were adorned with tapestries in all the colors of the rainbow. Berenike found them a little tacky, but she kept that to herself. It wasn’t her wedding, after all, but she was definitely judging the bride harshly for her taste. At the far end of the table two eunuchs were singing but Berenike could only just hear them over the roar of the party. There were at least a hundred people attending this wedding and while Berenike knew many of them she couldn’t honestly say that she liked any of them.
Still, she was determined to have a good time.
Nicky chatted happily with two women that were about her age, talking about nothing and everything all at once. She was drinking cup after cup of sweet wine until her head began to swim. It was the only way she could find this entertaining, but eventually she began to feel sick and excused herself. When she rose to her feet, she fought hard to not to wobble and hoped it looked convincing. She didn’t want people to see just how drunk she was.
Berenike left the house of the people whose name she could no longer recall. It was decidedly cooler outside and she breathed a sigh of relief. All the heat in there made her feel sticky, overheated and worn out. The wind whipping off the river was cool and refreshing even though Egypt was hot and muggy. She set off in the direction of her own home, trying to keep the bile down and managing not to stumble too much. It was not so dark that Berenike couldn’t see. The moon was either full or nearly full— someone smarter could answer that question, maybe one of the priests. It sent precious little light down. There were a few wispy clouds out tonight, and through them faint twinkles of stars could be seen.
Home was not far, Berenike told herself. All she had to do was find the canal, follow it for a bit, turn right at that one palm tree, and keep walking straight. The rest was all uphill. She groaned and dramatically threw her head back at the horrible thought of having to walk uphill while drunk like this. Her body felt too sluggish to walk up a hill. The sudden movement of her head and her wig made her nausea worse. She turned to retch in the first thing she could, which was the Canal while holding her wig to her head.
It was most undignified. Berenike stayed hunched over long after she’d finished, gasping and embarrassed at the lines of spit coming from her lips. She stared into the dark waters of the canal. Is this what her life had become? She was still just some drunken party girl wandering home. Is that, she wondered, all that life had to offer her?
When she finally rose, her mouth wiped perfectly clean, her back ached and her sore stomach muscles complained. She walked off on shaking legs.
It was a night of celebrating. He was nice and buzzed off the beer that he’d been sharing with one of the more loose daughters of a fisherman. They’d used one of the man’s boats and were slipping placidly down the water. The girl hadn’t wanted to lose her chastity but she was willing to do literally anything else and since she didn’t mind to satisfy him, he’d not pushed the subject. The girl was sitting right behind him as he guided the slip back along the canal to the dock. They passed by Berenike as she hurled into the water.
The fisherman’s daughter pointed and laughed. “Look at her hold her wig!” she giggled.
Lukos merely smirked and kept right on rowing. But he didn’t have to row all that hard. The nile was nice in that its current moved at a healthy pace and swept them along, past her and to the docks where they tied the slip back up in a sailor’s knot so that her father would never even know she was missing. Or had had such a fun time.
The fisherman’s daughter moved off into the velvet night, while Lukos stood, swaying a little, far more drunk than the girl he’d just dropped off had been. He started to sing to himself, wandering aimlessly through the darkness, not ready to go back to his ship and still more than ready to find more trouble.
His dark eyes rested on a meandering feminine figure approaching along the road beside the canal. Because he hadn’t seen her face when the little boat had slid past, he didn’t recognize her as the girl who’d just been vomiting. He put himself directly in her way, a small grin playing around his lips. She could look up and avoid him, though he’d still slide in front of her, preventing her passing, or she could stumble straight into him. Either way, he wanted to play.
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It was a night of celebrating. He was nice and buzzed off the beer that he’d been sharing with one of the more loose daughters of a fisherman. They’d used one of the man’s boats and were slipping placidly down the water. The girl hadn’t wanted to lose her chastity but she was willing to do literally anything else and since she didn’t mind to satisfy him, he’d not pushed the subject. The girl was sitting right behind him as he guided the slip back along the canal to the dock. They passed by Berenike as she hurled into the water.
The fisherman’s daughter pointed and laughed. “Look at her hold her wig!” she giggled.
Lukos merely smirked and kept right on rowing. But he didn’t have to row all that hard. The nile was nice in that its current moved at a healthy pace and swept them along, past her and to the docks where they tied the slip back up in a sailor’s knot so that her father would never even know she was missing. Or had had such a fun time.
The fisherman’s daughter moved off into the velvet night, while Lukos stood, swaying a little, far more drunk than the girl he’d just dropped off had been. He started to sing to himself, wandering aimlessly through the darkness, not ready to go back to his ship and still more than ready to find more trouble.
His dark eyes rested on a meandering feminine figure approaching along the road beside the canal. Because he hadn’t seen her face when the little boat had slid past, he didn’t recognize her as the girl who’d just been vomiting. He put himself directly in her way, a small grin playing around his lips. She could look up and avoid him, though he’d still slide in front of her, preventing her passing, or she could stumble straight into him. Either way, he wanted to play.
It was a night of celebrating. He was nice and buzzed off the beer that he’d been sharing with one of the more loose daughters of a fisherman. They’d used one of the man’s boats and were slipping placidly down the water. The girl hadn’t wanted to lose her chastity but she was willing to do literally anything else and since she didn’t mind to satisfy him, he’d not pushed the subject. The girl was sitting right behind him as he guided the slip back along the canal to the dock. They passed by Berenike as she hurled into the water.
The fisherman’s daughter pointed and laughed. “Look at her hold her wig!” she giggled.
Lukos merely smirked and kept right on rowing. But he didn’t have to row all that hard. The nile was nice in that its current moved at a healthy pace and swept them along, past her and to the docks where they tied the slip back up in a sailor’s knot so that her father would never even know she was missing. Or had had such a fun time.
The fisherman’s daughter moved off into the velvet night, while Lukos stood, swaying a little, far more drunk than the girl he’d just dropped off had been. He started to sing to himself, wandering aimlessly through the darkness, not ready to go back to his ship and still more than ready to find more trouble.
His dark eyes rested on a meandering feminine figure approaching along the road beside the canal. Because he hadn’t seen her face when the little boat had slid past, he didn’t recognize her as the girl who’d just been vomiting. He put himself directly in her way, a small grin playing around his lips. She could look up and avoid him, though he’d still slide in front of her, preventing her passing, or she could stumble straight into him. Either way, he wanted to play.
A gust of wind brought the sound of distant laughter to Berenike, as well as the horrible stench of the canal. It was so foul it almost made her sick again, but she was sure there was nothing left in her stomach. Still, her gagging forced her to stop walking and stoop over like an old woman.
“Oh Gods, I am really getting too old for this,” she thought shamefully.
She righted herself again and tried to smooth the wrinkles in her dress. It was made of a fine, almost translucent linen. During all that heaving, she had rumpled it slightly. She frowned at that. Berenike didn’t like to look unkempt ever, and she generally despised people who were. However, it was kind of silly of her to be worried about a slightly wrinkled dress when she just as easily could have vomited all over it.
It could always be worse, Nicky! She could practically hear her mother’s voice telling her to be grateful, and she wondered what her mother would do if she’d seen her throw up in the canal. Mawat would have slap her into next week for that! Even though she was fully grown, her mother wouldn’t have cared.
She let her eyes fall to the ground and to her expensive leather sandals. They slapped against the uneven limestone beneath her and echoed very softly off the buildings and river water. She didn’t notice the man in front of her until she saw his shadow. The darkness obscured his face slightly, but the features she could make out were handsome. An unruly yet endearing mass of curls sat atop his head.
Still, his expression (or what little she could see of it) unnerved her, and she was afraid suddenly. Walking home alone at night while drunk was definitely not the smartest thing she’d ever done. And what kind of person with good intentions just stands in the middle of a road?
I’m so close to home... Berenike thought despairingly. Tonight had been a good night and she wanted it to end well with her falling asleep peacefully on her reed mat.
“Pardon me, sir,” Berenike said and stepped to the side, fully expecting him to keep walking.
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A gust of wind brought the sound of distant laughter to Berenike, as well as the horrible stench of the canal. It was so foul it almost made her sick again, but she was sure there was nothing left in her stomach. Still, her gagging forced her to stop walking and stoop over like an old woman.
“Oh Gods, I am really getting too old for this,” she thought shamefully.
She righted herself again and tried to smooth the wrinkles in her dress. It was made of a fine, almost translucent linen. During all that heaving, she had rumpled it slightly. She frowned at that. Berenike didn’t like to look unkempt ever, and she generally despised people who were. However, it was kind of silly of her to be worried about a slightly wrinkled dress when she just as easily could have vomited all over it.
It could always be worse, Nicky! She could practically hear her mother’s voice telling her to be grateful, and she wondered what her mother would do if she’d seen her throw up in the canal. Mawat would have slap her into next week for that! Even though she was fully grown, her mother wouldn’t have cared.
She let her eyes fall to the ground and to her expensive leather sandals. They slapped against the uneven limestone beneath her and echoed very softly off the buildings and river water. She didn’t notice the man in front of her until she saw his shadow. The darkness obscured his face slightly, but the features she could make out were handsome. An unruly yet endearing mass of curls sat atop his head.
Still, his expression (or what little she could see of it) unnerved her, and she was afraid suddenly. Walking home alone at night while drunk was definitely not the smartest thing she’d ever done. And what kind of person with good intentions just stands in the middle of a road?
I’m so close to home... Berenike thought despairingly. Tonight had been a good night and she wanted it to end well with her falling asleep peacefully on her reed mat.
“Pardon me, sir,” Berenike said and stepped to the side, fully expecting him to keep walking.
A gust of wind brought the sound of distant laughter to Berenike, as well as the horrible stench of the canal. It was so foul it almost made her sick again, but she was sure there was nothing left in her stomach. Still, her gagging forced her to stop walking and stoop over like an old woman.
“Oh Gods, I am really getting too old for this,” she thought shamefully.
She righted herself again and tried to smooth the wrinkles in her dress. It was made of a fine, almost translucent linen. During all that heaving, she had rumpled it slightly. She frowned at that. Berenike didn’t like to look unkempt ever, and she generally despised people who were. However, it was kind of silly of her to be worried about a slightly wrinkled dress when she just as easily could have vomited all over it.
It could always be worse, Nicky! She could practically hear her mother’s voice telling her to be grateful, and she wondered what her mother would do if she’d seen her throw up in the canal. Mawat would have slap her into next week for that! Even though she was fully grown, her mother wouldn’t have cared.
She let her eyes fall to the ground and to her expensive leather sandals. They slapped against the uneven limestone beneath her and echoed very softly off the buildings and river water. She didn’t notice the man in front of her until she saw his shadow. The darkness obscured his face slightly, but the features she could make out were handsome. An unruly yet endearing mass of curls sat atop his head.
Still, his expression (or what little she could see of it) unnerved her, and she was afraid suddenly. Walking home alone at night while drunk was definitely not the smartest thing she’d ever done. And what kind of person with good intentions just stands in the middle of a road?
I’m so close to home... Berenike thought despairingly. Tonight had been a good night and she wanted it to end well with her falling asleep peacefully on her reed mat.
“Pardon me, sir,” Berenike said and stepped to the side, fully expecting him to keep walking.
She was so incredibly intoxicated that he imagined he might be able to get a little drunk just off her breath alone. Not that that would have been pleasant, what with the vomit she’d just wretched up. Still, he couldn’t fault her for emptying her stomach of its contents. From the way she was weaving and muttering to herself, it was probably a good thing that the rest of the alcohol be purged from her system. If only his intentions with her were of the helpful variety.
With her jewelry glittering in the moonlight and her wig askew, to Lukos, she looked like a heavenly target for his sense of fun. Her mumbled “Pardon me, sir,” was not taken in the way she’d meant it. He was perfectly aware that she wanted to side step him and to move on but he just couldn’t pass this up. She was too perfect. Gods sent, right into his lap.
“No pardon necessary,” he said smoothly and followed her attempt to get around him by cutting off her progress with his body. “My lady, I must say, you don’t look as though you’re well. How may I help you? I’d be remiss to leave you in such a state. There could be vagrants round abouts...or thieves.”
He didn’t actually touch her, but he did stay close. His hands hovered over her arms like he was afraid she’d topple over and only meant to catch her if that should happen. “Where are you coming from?” he asked, eyeing the gold in her earrings.
He could not see it, but a snake slithered along the side of the road. It was easily six feet long and slow from the mouse it was digesting. Its black scales held a silver line down its spine from the moonlight overhead. Lukos stepped back just a bit and the snake stopped moving, attempting to remain hidden, not knowing that it was in no danger at the moment. Lukos, meanwhile, also remained unaware of the thing’s presence, since his attention was on Berenike.
“My name is Lukos. Allow me to escort you home.”
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She was so incredibly intoxicated that he imagined he might be able to get a little drunk just off her breath alone. Not that that would have been pleasant, what with the vomit she’d just wretched up. Still, he couldn’t fault her for emptying her stomach of its contents. From the way she was weaving and muttering to herself, it was probably a good thing that the rest of the alcohol be purged from her system. If only his intentions with her were of the helpful variety.
With her jewelry glittering in the moonlight and her wig askew, to Lukos, she looked like a heavenly target for his sense of fun. Her mumbled “Pardon me, sir,” was not taken in the way she’d meant it. He was perfectly aware that she wanted to side step him and to move on but he just couldn’t pass this up. She was too perfect. Gods sent, right into his lap.
“No pardon necessary,” he said smoothly and followed her attempt to get around him by cutting off her progress with his body. “My lady, I must say, you don’t look as though you’re well. How may I help you? I’d be remiss to leave you in such a state. There could be vagrants round abouts...or thieves.”
He didn’t actually touch her, but he did stay close. His hands hovered over her arms like he was afraid she’d topple over and only meant to catch her if that should happen. “Where are you coming from?” he asked, eyeing the gold in her earrings.
He could not see it, but a snake slithered along the side of the road. It was easily six feet long and slow from the mouse it was digesting. Its black scales held a silver line down its spine from the moonlight overhead. Lukos stepped back just a bit and the snake stopped moving, attempting to remain hidden, not knowing that it was in no danger at the moment. Lukos, meanwhile, also remained unaware of the thing’s presence, since his attention was on Berenike.
“My name is Lukos. Allow me to escort you home.”
She was so incredibly intoxicated that he imagined he might be able to get a little drunk just off her breath alone. Not that that would have been pleasant, what with the vomit she’d just wretched up. Still, he couldn’t fault her for emptying her stomach of its contents. From the way she was weaving and muttering to herself, it was probably a good thing that the rest of the alcohol be purged from her system. If only his intentions with her were of the helpful variety.
With her jewelry glittering in the moonlight and her wig askew, to Lukos, she looked like a heavenly target for his sense of fun. Her mumbled “Pardon me, sir,” was not taken in the way she’d meant it. He was perfectly aware that she wanted to side step him and to move on but he just couldn’t pass this up. She was too perfect. Gods sent, right into his lap.
“No pardon necessary,” he said smoothly and followed her attempt to get around him by cutting off her progress with his body. “My lady, I must say, you don’t look as though you’re well. How may I help you? I’d be remiss to leave you in such a state. There could be vagrants round abouts...or thieves.”
He didn’t actually touch her, but he did stay close. His hands hovered over her arms like he was afraid she’d topple over and only meant to catch her if that should happen. “Where are you coming from?” he asked, eyeing the gold in her earrings.
He could not see it, but a snake slithered along the side of the road. It was easily six feet long and slow from the mouse it was digesting. Its black scales held a silver line down its spine from the moonlight overhead. Lukos stepped back just a bit and the snake stopped moving, attempting to remain hidden, not knowing that it was in no danger at the moment. Lukos, meanwhile, also remained unaware of the thing’s presence, since his attention was on Berenike.
“My name is Lukos. Allow me to escort you home.”
Berenike straightened up and looked this man in the eye. He hadn’t taken her hint and she wondered if he was being deliberately obtuse. She could see him clearer, and she didn’t like what she saw. He had too much thick hair and he spoke with a Greek accent. His smile and his dark eyes reminded her of a predatory fish: cold, dead, and unfeeling. She couldn’t stand to be in his gaze any longer. It was like staring directly at Helios, or into the pit of Tartarus, or whatever other stupid stories Greeks told themselves.
“What—“ Nicky glanced down at his hands, too close to her for comfort. She drew her arms in closer to her body. “Thank you, sir, but I assure you I’m fine.”
Her voice faltered despite her efforts to steady it. She hoped it sounded like a drunken slur instead of the anxiety riddled mess she actually was. There was an uneasiness in her gut that she couldn’t shake, and it wasn’t because of all the drinking.
“There’s no need to— Oh my Gods, is that an asp?” Nicky’s voice was shrill and panicked. In a knee jerk reaction, she threw her hands forward and shoved this strange Lukos man toward the snake, gathered her dress in her hands and took off running. The slapping of her sandals on the limestone ground echoed off the buildings and the canal water, but it was drowned out by the blood rushing in her ears.
“Get it away from me! Kill it, oh Gods, kill it!” Berenike shrieked. She could no longer see the snake, which made her even more nervous. Seeing a snake was bad enough, but now that she couldn’t see it and had no idea where it was, her terror grew exponentially. Once she was a safe distance away from the snake and the man, as she wasn’t exactly sure how different the two were from each other, she stopped to catch her breath and steady the shaking in her legs.
It was then that she realized what she’d done. She had actually pushed a man toward a snake and run away like a child. Unfortunately for Lukos, the only thing she felt that was even remotely akin to remorse for her actions was how badly it reflected on her. If anyone else had seen that, they would have judged her and rightly so. It was not the kindest thing she’d ever done in her life, but she couldn’t bring herself to care... Not when there was a giant snake slithering around, anyway.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you but I’m just so frightened of snakes! Don’t you have a knife? Don’t just stand there, kill it! What are you waiting for?”
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Berenike straightened up and looked this man in the eye. He hadn’t taken her hint and she wondered if he was being deliberately obtuse. She could see him clearer, and she didn’t like what she saw. He had too much thick hair and he spoke with a Greek accent. His smile and his dark eyes reminded her of a predatory fish: cold, dead, and unfeeling. She couldn’t stand to be in his gaze any longer. It was like staring directly at Helios, or into the pit of Tartarus, or whatever other stupid stories Greeks told themselves.
“What—“ Nicky glanced down at his hands, too close to her for comfort. She drew her arms in closer to her body. “Thank you, sir, but I assure you I’m fine.”
Her voice faltered despite her efforts to steady it. She hoped it sounded like a drunken slur instead of the anxiety riddled mess she actually was. There was an uneasiness in her gut that she couldn’t shake, and it wasn’t because of all the drinking.
“There’s no need to— Oh my Gods, is that an asp?” Nicky’s voice was shrill and panicked. In a knee jerk reaction, she threw her hands forward and shoved this strange Lukos man toward the snake, gathered her dress in her hands and took off running. The slapping of her sandals on the limestone ground echoed off the buildings and the canal water, but it was drowned out by the blood rushing in her ears.
“Get it away from me! Kill it, oh Gods, kill it!” Berenike shrieked. She could no longer see the snake, which made her even more nervous. Seeing a snake was bad enough, but now that she couldn’t see it and had no idea where it was, her terror grew exponentially. Once she was a safe distance away from the snake and the man, as she wasn’t exactly sure how different the two were from each other, she stopped to catch her breath and steady the shaking in her legs.
It was then that she realized what she’d done. She had actually pushed a man toward a snake and run away like a child. Unfortunately for Lukos, the only thing she felt that was even remotely akin to remorse for her actions was how badly it reflected on her. If anyone else had seen that, they would have judged her and rightly so. It was not the kindest thing she’d ever done in her life, but she couldn’t bring herself to care... Not when there was a giant snake slithering around, anyway.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you but I’m just so frightened of snakes! Don’t you have a knife? Don’t just stand there, kill it! What are you waiting for?”
Berenike straightened up and looked this man in the eye. He hadn’t taken her hint and she wondered if he was being deliberately obtuse. She could see him clearer, and she didn’t like what she saw. He had too much thick hair and he spoke with a Greek accent. His smile and his dark eyes reminded her of a predatory fish: cold, dead, and unfeeling. She couldn’t stand to be in his gaze any longer. It was like staring directly at Helios, or into the pit of Tartarus, or whatever other stupid stories Greeks told themselves.
“What—“ Nicky glanced down at his hands, too close to her for comfort. She drew her arms in closer to her body. “Thank you, sir, but I assure you I’m fine.”
Her voice faltered despite her efforts to steady it. She hoped it sounded like a drunken slur instead of the anxiety riddled mess she actually was. There was an uneasiness in her gut that she couldn’t shake, and it wasn’t because of all the drinking.
“There’s no need to— Oh my Gods, is that an asp?” Nicky’s voice was shrill and panicked. In a knee jerk reaction, she threw her hands forward and shoved this strange Lukos man toward the snake, gathered her dress in her hands and took off running. The slapping of her sandals on the limestone ground echoed off the buildings and the canal water, but it was drowned out by the blood rushing in her ears.
“Get it away from me! Kill it, oh Gods, kill it!” Berenike shrieked. She could no longer see the snake, which made her even more nervous. Seeing a snake was bad enough, but now that she couldn’t see it and had no idea where it was, her terror grew exponentially. Once she was a safe distance away from the snake and the man, as she wasn’t exactly sure how different the two were from each other, she stopped to catch her breath and steady the shaking in her legs.
It was then that she realized what she’d done. She had actually pushed a man toward a snake and run away like a child. Unfortunately for Lukos, the only thing she felt that was even remotely akin to remorse for her actions was how badly it reflected on her. If anyone else had seen that, they would have judged her and rightly so. It was not the kindest thing she’d ever done in her life, but she couldn’t bring herself to care... Not when there was a giant snake slithering around, anyway.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you but I’m just so frightened of snakes! Don’t you have a knife? Don’t just stand there, kill it! What are you waiting for?”
Drunk women were amazing creatures. So over confident and sure of their own situation. She’d just been bent over, retching into reeds, and now she was totally fine to go home on her own. Clearly. Except that he really was planning unfortunate things to happen to her. Maybe not her person, exactly. But her valuables. The hazy look she gave him, unfocused and owlish, might have made him laugh if her accompanying breath hadn’t smelled exactly like sour, vomit laced wine. It was powerful in its own right and as unattractive as he was to her, she instantly became so to him.
Apollo help her, but by the gods in the heavens. She was a mess.
He had to turn his head as she spoke in order to gain some sort of fresh air. The quaver in her voice didn’t make him feel any easier. Was she going to puke again? He was on the point of stepping away from her, just to save his own clothes, when she suddenly asked about an asp. There was no time to register what she’d done before he found himself shoved violently backwards amid screaming and shrieking.
The only thing he clearly registered as that there was an asp. He didn’t know where it was. Didn’t care. All he did know was that he’d learned to fly within seconds.
There was a hiss and Lukos’s feet left the ground. He had the impression of floating as he leapt away from the hissing sound. Something, probably the snake, struck the heel of his boot, and make him leap again. It struck a second time and he saw his life flashing before his eyes. A snake. How could he die from a stupid snake? What an idiot way to die.
When he got out of this, because he would, he was going to put his hands around that girl’s neck and slowly choke the life out of her. He’d watch the color drain from her face, the light in her eyes fade, the outline of her lips turn blue, then gray. The vein in her forehead would bulge and throb. Her eyes would bug out of her face and she’d be open mouthed and gasping like a fish. Her hands would claw at his forearms and wrists, but once he had her, she was a dead woman. And nothing, not her tears, not this snake, was going to deter him from this fantasy that could easily be converted to reality.
He ran blindly, toward her, it turned out. Skidding to a stop, his chest heaved as he glanced back to find the asp coiled and angry, glaring at both him and Berenike. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you but I’m just so frightened of snakes! Don’t you have a knife? Don’t just stand there, kill it! What are you waiting for?” Her coptic was so rapid and screeching that it took him a minute to process what she was saying. Once he understood, though, his black eyes slanted toward her and he tilted his head ever so slightly, trying to gauge if she was serious.
“The snake’s not coming,” he said quietly, refusing to escalate his voice to her level. “See? It’s sitting there. But since you’re so terrified-” His hand lashed out and caught her by the throat. “Shh, shh, shh,” he used his hold on her to keep her where she was so that he could slide behind her, like they were in a macabre dance. In the same motion, his other hand clamped down across her mouth, cupped so the meat of his hand was away from her teeth. He held her against his chest, his thumb pressing inward on her trachea; not enough to break her windpipe, but enough for her to get the idea that he could.
“Now,” he began, moving them away from the main road and into a little alleyway off to the side. His words were murmured against her ear the whole time he moved in a steady, low stream of conversation. “I was just going to steal your jewels, but you were so scared of that snake, weren’t you? It would be unforgivable if I let you walk by yourself. You be a good girl and don’t scream, yeah? I’ll crush your throat and drop you in the sand. Need your throat for that afterlife of yours, don’t you? It’d be a shame if you were unable to speak for eternity.”
He hustled them through the alleyway and into a completely separate street. No one was up at this late hour and anyone who was couldn’t have cared less what he was doing. “Let’s get you alone, mmm?” His ship was a little too far and in too public a place to bother with at the moment. The burned out hull of what used to be an apothecary, however, would do nicely. They weren’t in an area where people lived, anymore. Mostly where there were little shops that were closed up for the night. The door opened easily enough and he let go and gave her a light shove from himself, onto the ground and gave her drunk ass a hard kick with his the flat of his boot, intending to knock her to the ground as he closed the door behind him.
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Drunk women were amazing creatures. So over confident and sure of their own situation. She’d just been bent over, retching into reeds, and now she was totally fine to go home on her own. Clearly. Except that he really was planning unfortunate things to happen to her. Maybe not her person, exactly. But her valuables. The hazy look she gave him, unfocused and owlish, might have made him laugh if her accompanying breath hadn’t smelled exactly like sour, vomit laced wine. It was powerful in its own right and as unattractive as he was to her, she instantly became so to him.
Apollo help her, but by the gods in the heavens. She was a mess.
He had to turn his head as she spoke in order to gain some sort of fresh air. The quaver in her voice didn’t make him feel any easier. Was she going to puke again? He was on the point of stepping away from her, just to save his own clothes, when she suddenly asked about an asp. There was no time to register what she’d done before he found himself shoved violently backwards amid screaming and shrieking.
The only thing he clearly registered as that there was an asp. He didn’t know where it was. Didn’t care. All he did know was that he’d learned to fly within seconds.
There was a hiss and Lukos’s feet left the ground. He had the impression of floating as he leapt away from the hissing sound. Something, probably the snake, struck the heel of his boot, and make him leap again. It struck a second time and he saw his life flashing before his eyes. A snake. How could he die from a stupid snake? What an idiot way to die.
When he got out of this, because he would, he was going to put his hands around that girl’s neck and slowly choke the life out of her. He’d watch the color drain from her face, the light in her eyes fade, the outline of her lips turn blue, then gray. The vein in her forehead would bulge and throb. Her eyes would bug out of her face and she’d be open mouthed and gasping like a fish. Her hands would claw at his forearms and wrists, but once he had her, she was a dead woman. And nothing, not her tears, not this snake, was going to deter him from this fantasy that could easily be converted to reality.
He ran blindly, toward her, it turned out. Skidding to a stop, his chest heaved as he glanced back to find the asp coiled and angry, glaring at both him and Berenike. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you but I’m just so frightened of snakes! Don’t you have a knife? Don’t just stand there, kill it! What are you waiting for?” Her coptic was so rapid and screeching that it took him a minute to process what she was saying. Once he understood, though, his black eyes slanted toward her and he tilted his head ever so slightly, trying to gauge if she was serious.
“The snake’s not coming,” he said quietly, refusing to escalate his voice to her level. “See? It’s sitting there. But since you’re so terrified-” His hand lashed out and caught her by the throat. “Shh, shh, shh,” he used his hold on her to keep her where she was so that he could slide behind her, like they were in a macabre dance. In the same motion, his other hand clamped down across her mouth, cupped so the meat of his hand was away from her teeth. He held her against his chest, his thumb pressing inward on her trachea; not enough to break her windpipe, but enough for her to get the idea that he could.
“Now,” he began, moving them away from the main road and into a little alleyway off to the side. His words were murmured against her ear the whole time he moved in a steady, low stream of conversation. “I was just going to steal your jewels, but you were so scared of that snake, weren’t you? It would be unforgivable if I let you walk by yourself. You be a good girl and don’t scream, yeah? I’ll crush your throat and drop you in the sand. Need your throat for that afterlife of yours, don’t you? It’d be a shame if you were unable to speak for eternity.”
He hustled them through the alleyway and into a completely separate street. No one was up at this late hour and anyone who was couldn’t have cared less what he was doing. “Let’s get you alone, mmm?” His ship was a little too far and in too public a place to bother with at the moment. The burned out hull of what used to be an apothecary, however, would do nicely. They weren’t in an area where people lived, anymore. Mostly where there were little shops that were closed up for the night. The door opened easily enough and he let go and gave her a light shove from himself, onto the ground and gave her drunk ass a hard kick with his the flat of his boot, intending to knock her to the ground as he closed the door behind him.
Drunk women were amazing creatures. So over confident and sure of their own situation. She’d just been bent over, retching into reeds, and now she was totally fine to go home on her own. Clearly. Except that he really was planning unfortunate things to happen to her. Maybe not her person, exactly. But her valuables. The hazy look she gave him, unfocused and owlish, might have made him laugh if her accompanying breath hadn’t smelled exactly like sour, vomit laced wine. It was powerful in its own right and as unattractive as he was to her, she instantly became so to him.
Apollo help her, but by the gods in the heavens. She was a mess.
He had to turn his head as she spoke in order to gain some sort of fresh air. The quaver in her voice didn’t make him feel any easier. Was she going to puke again? He was on the point of stepping away from her, just to save his own clothes, when she suddenly asked about an asp. There was no time to register what she’d done before he found himself shoved violently backwards amid screaming and shrieking.
The only thing he clearly registered as that there was an asp. He didn’t know where it was. Didn’t care. All he did know was that he’d learned to fly within seconds.
There was a hiss and Lukos’s feet left the ground. He had the impression of floating as he leapt away from the hissing sound. Something, probably the snake, struck the heel of his boot, and make him leap again. It struck a second time and he saw his life flashing before his eyes. A snake. How could he die from a stupid snake? What an idiot way to die.
When he got out of this, because he would, he was going to put his hands around that girl’s neck and slowly choke the life out of her. He’d watch the color drain from her face, the light in her eyes fade, the outline of her lips turn blue, then gray. The vein in her forehead would bulge and throb. Her eyes would bug out of her face and she’d be open mouthed and gasping like a fish. Her hands would claw at his forearms and wrists, but once he had her, she was a dead woman. And nothing, not her tears, not this snake, was going to deter him from this fantasy that could easily be converted to reality.
He ran blindly, toward her, it turned out. Skidding to a stop, his chest heaved as he glanced back to find the asp coiled and angry, glaring at both him and Berenike. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you but I’m just so frightened of snakes! Don’t you have a knife? Don’t just stand there, kill it! What are you waiting for?” Her coptic was so rapid and screeching that it took him a minute to process what she was saying. Once he understood, though, his black eyes slanted toward her and he tilted his head ever so slightly, trying to gauge if she was serious.
“The snake’s not coming,” he said quietly, refusing to escalate his voice to her level. “See? It’s sitting there. But since you’re so terrified-” His hand lashed out and caught her by the throat. “Shh, shh, shh,” he used his hold on her to keep her where she was so that he could slide behind her, like they were in a macabre dance. In the same motion, his other hand clamped down across her mouth, cupped so the meat of his hand was away from her teeth. He held her against his chest, his thumb pressing inward on her trachea; not enough to break her windpipe, but enough for her to get the idea that he could.
“Now,” he began, moving them away from the main road and into a little alleyway off to the side. His words were murmured against her ear the whole time he moved in a steady, low stream of conversation. “I was just going to steal your jewels, but you were so scared of that snake, weren’t you? It would be unforgivable if I let you walk by yourself. You be a good girl and don’t scream, yeah? I’ll crush your throat and drop you in the sand. Need your throat for that afterlife of yours, don’t you? It’d be a shame if you were unable to speak for eternity.”
He hustled them through the alleyway and into a completely separate street. No one was up at this late hour and anyone who was couldn’t have cared less what he was doing. “Let’s get you alone, mmm?” His ship was a little too far and in too public a place to bother with at the moment. The burned out hull of what used to be an apothecary, however, would do nicely. They weren’t in an area where people lived, anymore. Mostly where there were little shops that were closed up for the night. The door opened easily enough and he let go and gave her a light shove from himself, onto the ground and gave her drunk ass a hard kick with his the flat of his boot, intending to knock her to the ground as he closed the door behind him.
She was right to suspect him of being a snake because he moved like one. In the blink of an eye, his hand shot out and coiled itself around her throat; she hardly had time to process it. Even if she hadn’t been drinking, it would’ve taken her (or anyone else) by surprise. Her yelp was silenced almost immediately by his hand slapping her mouth shut. In one terrifying moment, Berenike was pulled back into the warmth of his body, and she could feel just how much stronger he was than her. She could smell him and it made her want to gag, though she had nothing left inside her to throw up.
What a pity, she almost wished she could throw up on him right now.
Berenike squealed out something that sounded like NO! Unfortunately, it was too muffled for anyone but them to hear. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and her blood pressure shot upward like an arrow. She struggled against him at first, but his tight grip on both her body and her throat rendered it useless. He was way bigger than she was so she had no choice but to obey him.
Her eyes widened when he mentioned robbing her— so she had been right to be suspicious of him— and how he easy it would be to kill her right now. Nicky began to sob quietly, blinking stinging teardrops from her eyes. She would not wail, she was too scared for that, but she couldn’t hold back her tears any longer— especially when he threatened her afterlife. Lukos’s dark whispers in her ears and the feeling of his hot breath on her neck sent goosebumps fanning out across her skin. Even in the muggy summer air, she shuddered.
“I’ll be good,” Nicky said in a tearful and muffled voice. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew what was about to happen, so she said silent prayer after prayer to whoever was listening that he didn’t kill her afterward. She was done trying to fight him for the most part, unless he showed any weakness. Nicky still held on to the hope that he might reveal some kind of chink in his armor and she could take advantage of it.
Greeks truly are the lowest form of life.
He led them into an abandoned shop that smelled faintly of medicines. Wasn’t this that old apothecary? Hadn't she walked farther than that? Hadn't she almost been to the palm tree? She had been so close! Berenike didn’t have any more time to think because Lukos shoved her to the ground and kicked her flat on her stomach. She cried out in pain when her belly hit the ground first, wincing and trying desperately to scramble to her feet.
“Please don’t kill me.”
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She was right to suspect him of being a snake because he moved like one. In the blink of an eye, his hand shot out and coiled itself around her throat; she hardly had time to process it. Even if she hadn’t been drinking, it would’ve taken her (or anyone else) by surprise. Her yelp was silenced almost immediately by his hand slapping her mouth shut. In one terrifying moment, Berenike was pulled back into the warmth of his body, and she could feel just how much stronger he was than her. She could smell him and it made her want to gag, though she had nothing left inside her to throw up.
What a pity, she almost wished she could throw up on him right now.
Berenike squealed out something that sounded like NO! Unfortunately, it was too muffled for anyone but them to hear. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and her blood pressure shot upward like an arrow. She struggled against him at first, but his tight grip on both her body and her throat rendered it useless. He was way bigger than she was so she had no choice but to obey him.
Her eyes widened when he mentioned robbing her— so she had been right to be suspicious of him— and how he easy it would be to kill her right now. Nicky began to sob quietly, blinking stinging teardrops from her eyes. She would not wail, she was too scared for that, but she couldn’t hold back her tears any longer— especially when he threatened her afterlife. Lukos’s dark whispers in her ears and the feeling of his hot breath on her neck sent goosebumps fanning out across her skin. Even in the muggy summer air, she shuddered.
“I’ll be good,” Nicky said in a tearful and muffled voice. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew what was about to happen, so she said silent prayer after prayer to whoever was listening that he didn’t kill her afterward. She was done trying to fight him for the most part, unless he showed any weakness. Nicky still held on to the hope that he might reveal some kind of chink in his armor and she could take advantage of it.
Greeks truly are the lowest form of life.
He led them into an abandoned shop that smelled faintly of medicines. Wasn’t this that old apothecary? Hadn't she walked farther than that? Hadn't she almost been to the palm tree? She had been so close! Berenike didn’t have any more time to think because Lukos shoved her to the ground and kicked her flat on her stomach. She cried out in pain when her belly hit the ground first, wincing and trying desperately to scramble to her feet.
“Please don’t kill me.”
She was right to suspect him of being a snake because he moved like one. In the blink of an eye, his hand shot out and coiled itself around her throat; she hardly had time to process it. Even if she hadn’t been drinking, it would’ve taken her (or anyone else) by surprise. Her yelp was silenced almost immediately by his hand slapping her mouth shut. In one terrifying moment, Berenike was pulled back into the warmth of his body, and she could feel just how much stronger he was than her. She could smell him and it made her want to gag, though she had nothing left inside her to throw up.
What a pity, she almost wished she could throw up on him right now.
Berenike squealed out something that sounded like NO! Unfortunately, it was too muffled for anyone but them to hear. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and her blood pressure shot upward like an arrow. She struggled against him at first, but his tight grip on both her body and her throat rendered it useless. He was way bigger than she was so she had no choice but to obey him.
Her eyes widened when he mentioned robbing her— so she had been right to be suspicious of him— and how he easy it would be to kill her right now. Nicky began to sob quietly, blinking stinging teardrops from her eyes. She would not wail, she was too scared for that, but she couldn’t hold back her tears any longer— especially when he threatened her afterlife. Lukos’s dark whispers in her ears and the feeling of his hot breath on her neck sent goosebumps fanning out across her skin. Even in the muggy summer air, she shuddered.
“I’ll be good,” Nicky said in a tearful and muffled voice. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew what was about to happen, so she said silent prayer after prayer to whoever was listening that he didn’t kill her afterward. She was done trying to fight him for the most part, unless he showed any weakness. Nicky still held on to the hope that he might reveal some kind of chink in his armor and she could take advantage of it.
Greeks truly are the lowest form of life.
He led them into an abandoned shop that smelled faintly of medicines. Wasn’t this that old apothecary? Hadn't she walked farther than that? Hadn't she almost been to the palm tree? She had been so close! Berenike didn’t have any more time to think because Lukos shoved her to the ground and kicked her flat on her stomach. She cried out in pain when her belly hit the ground first, wincing and trying desperately to scramble to her feet.
“Please don’t kill me.”
For most people, watching a woman stumble and sprawl flat on her stomach onto limestone floor would be alarming. They’d want to help her up. They’d want to check if her palms accidentally scraped against the swath of sand. Not Lukos. He liked that she tried to scramble to her feet, legs scrabbling, voice panicked and begging “Please don’t kill me.”
Into the darkness, he smiled. It was a handsome, charming smile. Disarming in a different circumstance. Not here. Here, its sweetness meant malevolent intent. Now that they were here, with moonlight shining in through a broken patch in the flat ceiling, he could see her a little better than earlier. They were closer and his eyes were fully adjusted to the darkness. She might have been pretty if her wig hadn’t been askew and that look of pure terror he so loved to see in moments like this.
“That’s a good girl,” he said. His deep voice was soft, barely disturbing the air around them. “Beg your way out. But, before you do, take off your earrings and those bangles. And your wig. I think that’ll fetch a high price. It’s such a fine one, isn’t it? That’s real human hair, I think. Not horse hair. What did that cost, I wonder? Two years’ wages for a farmer? Or do you even know?”
He held out his hand for her to hand him what he’d asked for, but on a split second decision, decided - Fuck. Her. She’d pushed him into a snake. The asp had struck his heel. If not for the boots he wore, he’d be dead at this very second. All because she was slightly afraid. Truly, he’d done nothing to her up to that point. They could have had a nice, uneventful mugging. Hell. They might even have hit it off and have been fucking by now. But no. She’d chosen to attempt to kill him.
Can’t let that go.
Now? He didn’t give a flying fuck how attractive she was. Her cunt could be made of magic pearls and glowing sunshine. He didn’t care.
His fist curled and in one smooth motion, he sucker punched her in the stomach, waiting for her to crumple forward before striking up with his knee to catch her on her chin. After that, it was easy enough to shove her to the floor, where he immediately straddled her as he reached back and took his knife from his belt. “Beg me to let you go,” he said idly, toying the tip of the dagger under her chin, twisting it up, fully intending to break skin.
“Just a little cut,” he said soothingly. “No one will see unless you have your head tipped back. You slut around? I guess your friend will see it. Maybe he’ll be into it. Be a story, for sure.”
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For most people, watching a woman stumble and sprawl flat on her stomach onto limestone floor would be alarming. They’d want to help her up. They’d want to check if her palms accidentally scraped against the swath of sand. Not Lukos. He liked that she tried to scramble to her feet, legs scrabbling, voice panicked and begging “Please don’t kill me.”
Into the darkness, he smiled. It was a handsome, charming smile. Disarming in a different circumstance. Not here. Here, its sweetness meant malevolent intent. Now that they were here, with moonlight shining in through a broken patch in the flat ceiling, he could see her a little better than earlier. They were closer and his eyes were fully adjusted to the darkness. She might have been pretty if her wig hadn’t been askew and that look of pure terror he so loved to see in moments like this.
“That’s a good girl,” he said. His deep voice was soft, barely disturbing the air around them. “Beg your way out. But, before you do, take off your earrings and those bangles. And your wig. I think that’ll fetch a high price. It’s such a fine one, isn’t it? That’s real human hair, I think. Not horse hair. What did that cost, I wonder? Two years’ wages for a farmer? Or do you even know?”
He held out his hand for her to hand him what he’d asked for, but on a split second decision, decided - Fuck. Her. She’d pushed him into a snake. The asp had struck his heel. If not for the boots he wore, he’d be dead at this very second. All because she was slightly afraid. Truly, he’d done nothing to her up to that point. They could have had a nice, uneventful mugging. Hell. They might even have hit it off and have been fucking by now. But no. She’d chosen to attempt to kill him.
Can’t let that go.
Now? He didn’t give a flying fuck how attractive she was. Her cunt could be made of magic pearls and glowing sunshine. He didn’t care.
His fist curled and in one smooth motion, he sucker punched her in the stomach, waiting for her to crumple forward before striking up with his knee to catch her on her chin. After that, it was easy enough to shove her to the floor, where he immediately straddled her as he reached back and took his knife from his belt. “Beg me to let you go,” he said idly, toying the tip of the dagger under her chin, twisting it up, fully intending to break skin.
“Just a little cut,” he said soothingly. “No one will see unless you have your head tipped back. You slut around? I guess your friend will see it. Maybe he’ll be into it. Be a story, for sure.”
For most people, watching a woman stumble and sprawl flat on her stomach onto limestone floor would be alarming. They’d want to help her up. They’d want to check if her palms accidentally scraped against the swath of sand. Not Lukos. He liked that she tried to scramble to her feet, legs scrabbling, voice panicked and begging “Please don’t kill me.”
Into the darkness, he smiled. It was a handsome, charming smile. Disarming in a different circumstance. Not here. Here, its sweetness meant malevolent intent. Now that they were here, with moonlight shining in through a broken patch in the flat ceiling, he could see her a little better than earlier. They were closer and his eyes were fully adjusted to the darkness. She might have been pretty if her wig hadn’t been askew and that look of pure terror he so loved to see in moments like this.
“That’s a good girl,” he said. His deep voice was soft, barely disturbing the air around them. “Beg your way out. But, before you do, take off your earrings and those bangles. And your wig. I think that’ll fetch a high price. It’s such a fine one, isn’t it? That’s real human hair, I think. Not horse hair. What did that cost, I wonder? Two years’ wages for a farmer? Or do you even know?”
He held out his hand for her to hand him what he’d asked for, but on a split second decision, decided - Fuck. Her. She’d pushed him into a snake. The asp had struck his heel. If not for the boots he wore, he’d be dead at this very second. All because she was slightly afraid. Truly, he’d done nothing to her up to that point. They could have had a nice, uneventful mugging. Hell. They might even have hit it off and have been fucking by now. But no. She’d chosen to attempt to kill him.
Can’t let that go.
Now? He didn’t give a flying fuck how attractive she was. Her cunt could be made of magic pearls and glowing sunshine. He didn’t care.
His fist curled and in one smooth motion, he sucker punched her in the stomach, waiting for her to crumple forward before striking up with his knee to catch her on her chin. After that, it was easy enough to shove her to the floor, where he immediately straddled her as he reached back and took his knife from his belt. “Beg me to let you go,” he said idly, toying the tip of the dagger under her chin, twisting it up, fully intending to break skin.
“Just a little cut,” he said soothingly. “No one will see unless you have your head tipped back. You slut around? I guess your friend will see it. Maybe he’ll be into it. Be a story, for sure.”
Why is this happening to me? She thought, her eyes still shut tightly. She wouldn’t, no, couldn’t look at him. Her stomach churned with disgust when he called her a good girl. The way he said it was even more disturbing to her. It was soft and in any other circumstance may have been arousing to her, but in this particular moment and context Berenike was horrified. She put her hands up over her face to try and shield herself from him.
When he started listing off her jewelry and her wig, Berenike’s eyes snapped open. He wanted them? He could have them if he let her go. She was terrified and in absolutely no position to start bargaining, but she would never forgive herself if she didn’t try.
“I— they are worth a lot. Take them, just please let me go… Sir.” She said, realizing she had forgotten his name in her terror. What was it? Lu-something. There was no way in her current state that she could remember now. Berenike was too terrified to move and begin removing her jewelry and wig like he had requested. Apparently her indecision angered him even more because he very quickly socked her in the stomach. She let out a cry and curled up, only to be stopped by his knee.
She looked up at him, eyes unfocused and hazy. She was still feeling from the dizzying pain, but she wasn’t absent enough to miss the cold feeling of his blade dragging against the delicate skin of her flesh. Berenike shut her eyes again and tried to pretend she wasn’t underneath this beast of a man.
She whimpered when his blade nicked her under the chin and she let out another sob. She didn’t bother answering his question about her “slutting” around. No, she wasn’t a virgin but she certainly wasn’t a woman of the night, like he was treating her. And to answer his question, she highly doubted any man she slept with would find the wounds he’d inflicted on her particularly attractive.
Berenike began to cry once again. In an effort to be as quiet as possible, a rather disgusting glob of snot dripped out of her nose from the force of the sobs that wracked her body.
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Why is this happening to me? She thought, her eyes still shut tightly. She wouldn’t, no, couldn’t look at him. Her stomach churned with disgust when he called her a good girl. The way he said it was even more disturbing to her. It was soft and in any other circumstance may have been arousing to her, but in this particular moment and context Berenike was horrified. She put her hands up over her face to try and shield herself from him.
When he started listing off her jewelry and her wig, Berenike’s eyes snapped open. He wanted them? He could have them if he let her go. She was terrified and in absolutely no position to start bargaining, but she would never forgive herself if she didn’t try.
“I— they are worth a lot. Take them, just please let me go… Sir.” She said, realizing she had forgotten his name in her terror. What was it? Lu-something. There was no way in her current state that she could remember now. Berenike was too terrified to move and begin removing her jewelry and wig like he had requested. Apparently her indecision angered him even more because he very quickly socked her in the stomach. She let out a cry and curled up, only to be stopped by his knee.
She looked up at him, eyes unfocused and hazy. She was still feeling from the dizzying pain, but she wasn’t absent enough to miss the cold feeling of his blade dragging against the delicate skin of her flesh. Berenike shut her eyes again and tried to pretend she wasn’t underneath this beast of a man.
She whimpered when his blade nicked her under the chin and she let out another sob. She didn’t bother answering his question about her “slutting” around. No, she wasn’t a virgin but she certainly wasn’t a woman of the night, like he was treating her. And to answer his question, she highly doubted any man she slept with would find the wounds he’d inflicted on her particularly attractive.
Berenike began to cry once again. In an effort to be as quiet as possible, a rather disgusting glob of snot dripped out of her nose from the force of the sobs that wracked her body.
Why is this happening to me? She thought, her eyes still shut tightly. She wouldn’t, no, couldn’t look at him. Her stomach churned with disgust when he called her a good girl. The way he said it was even more disturbing to her. It was soft and in any other circumstance may have been arousing to her, but in this particular moment and context Berenike was horrified. She put her hands up over her face to try and shield herself from him.
When he started listing off her jewelry and her wig, Berenike’s eyes snapped open. He wanted them? He could have them if he let her go. She was terrified and in absolutely no position to start bargaining, but she would never forgive herself if she didn’t try.
“I— they are worth a lot. Take them, just please let me go… Sir.” She said, realizing she had forgotten his name in her terror. What was it? Lu-something. There was no way in her current state that she could remember now. Berenike was too terrified to move and begin removing her jewelry and wig like he had requested. Apparently her indecision angered him even more because he very quickly socked her in the stomach. She let out a cry and curled up, only to be stopped by his knee.
She looked up at him, eyes unfocused and hazy. She was still feeling from the dizzying pain, but she wasn’t absent enough to miss the cold feeling of his blade dragging against the delicate skin of her flesh. Berenike shut her eyes again and tried to pretend she wasn’t underneath this beast of a man.
She whimpered when his blade nicked her under the chin and she let out another sob. She didn’t bother answering his question about her “slutting” around. No, she wasn’t a virgin but she certainly wasn’t a woman of the night, like he was treating her. And to answer his question, she highly doubted any man she slept with would find the wounds he’d inflicted on her particularly attractive.
Berenike began to cry once again. In an effort to be as quiet as possible, a rather disgusting glob of snot dripped out of her nose from the force of the sobs that wracked her body.
Sometimes when he caught people and straddled them like this, the bones of their hips digging into the muscle of his thighs, they’d buck and twist and writhe, even with his knife under their chin. They had the insane and adorably hopeful thought that they could escape. If they could just fight hard enough, or show enough grit, that even if he killed them, their death meant something. It didn’t. It was all totally pointless, just like what he and she were doing right now. In the whole grand scheme of the world, neither of them meant anything at all. If he slit her throat right now, no grand war would be fought. Her family would grieve, and then they’d move on. If the tables were turned, and she somehow overpowered him, very few, if anyone, would truly mourn him. The world would spin and his ship would sail without him.
It was kind of freeing, in a way, to know how unimportant he was, at least, unimportant to most people. But to this woman? In this moment? He was her everything. Her savior and her death bearer. The judge and jury. He was more to her than father and mother combined. With the tip of his knife under her chin, ready to lay her open, with her body under his, they were as close as two people could be. Beautiful.
He breathed in her pleading like it was the sweetest perfume. Her body shook beneath him with each shuddering, wet breath she took. The glob of snot glittered on her face in the moonlight and he reached back, taking hold of her dress. In a single, swift motion, the sound of fabric ripping up her thigh broke the fragile silence. Taking the strip of cloth, he dabbed at her nose, wiping her face clean for her. “There,” he said. “That’s better, isn’t it? Now, I’m going to put your mind at ease. I’m going to let you go. I won’t kill you and do you know why? Because I am merciful. You think so too, don’t you, sweet heart?”
Lukos took the knife away from her throat and stowed it back in its place. He shifted off her and took her left hand in his under the pretense of helping her to her feet. But he braced his thumb against her pinky finger, applying pressure, slowly at first, then his jaw tightened and he abruptly shoved his thumb down, breaking her finger as he pressed it hard enough to force the finger flat against her palm.
“Oh no,” he let her go and his eyes widened in round, mock surprise. “Did you hurt yourself? Let me help you sit down.” He stepped behind her and kicked his leg at her ankles, sweeping her fight straight out from underneath her. “Thank me for my kindness,” he said through gritted teeth, ready to kick her in the side if she chose not to obey.
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Sometimes when he caught people and straddled them like this, the bones of their hips digging into the muscle of his thighs, they’d buck and twist and writhe, even with his knife under their chin. They had the insane and adorably hopeful thought that they could escape. If they could just fight hard enough, or show enough grit, that even if he killed them, their death meant something. It didn’t. It was all totally pointless, just like what he and she were doing right now. In the whole grand scheme of the world, neither of them meant anything at all. If he slit her throat right now, no grand war would be fought. Her family would grieve, and then they’d move on. If the tables were turned, and she somehow overpowered him, very few, if anyone, would truly mourn him. The world would spin and his ship would sail without him.
It was kind of freeing, in a way, to know how unimportant he was, at least, unimportant to most people. But to this woman? In this moment? He was her everything. Her savior and her death bearer. The judge and jury. He was more to her than father and mother combined. With the tip of his knife under her chin, ready to lay her open, with her body under his, they were as close as two people could be. Beautiful.
He breathed in her pleading like it was the sweetest perfume. Her body shook beneath him with each shuddering, wet breath she took. The glob of snot glittered on her face in the moonlight and he reached back, taking hold of her dress. In a single, swift motion, the sound of fabric ripping up her thigh broke the fragile silence. Taking the strip of cloth, he dabbed at her nose, wiping her face clean for her. “There,” he said. “That’s better, isn’t it? Now, I’m going to put your mind at ease. I’m going to let you go. I won’t kill you and do you know why? Because I am merciful. You think so too, don’t you, sweet heart?”
Lukos took the knife away from her throat and stowed it back in its place. He shifted off her and took her left hand in his under the pretense of helping her to her feet. But he braced his thumb against her pinky finger, applying pressure, slowly at first, then his jaw tightened and he abruptly shoved his thumb down, breaking her finger as he pressed it hard enough to force the finger flat against her palm.
“Oh no,” he let her go and his eyes widened in round, mock surprise. “Did you hurt yourself? Let me help you sit down.” He stepped behind her and kicked his leg at her ankles, sweeping her fight straight out from underneath her. “Thank me for my kindness,” he said through gritted teeth, ready to kick her in the side if she chose not to obey.
Sometimes when he caught people and straddled them like this, the bones of their hips digging into the muscle of his thighs, they’d buck and twist and writhe, even with his knife under their chin. They had the insane and adorably hopeful thought that they could escape. If they could just fight hard enough, or show enough grit, that even if he killed them, their death meant something. It didn’t. It was all totally pointless, just like what he and she were doing right now. In the whole grand scheme of the world, neither of them meant anything at all. If he slit her throat right now, no grand war would be fought. Her family would grieve, and then they’d move on. If the tables were turned, and she somehow overpowered him, very few, if anyone, would truly mourn him. The world would spin and his ship would sail without him.
It was kind of freeing, in a way, to know how unimportant he was, at least, unimportant to most people. But to this woman? In this moment? He was her everything. Her savior and her death bearer. The judge and jury. He was more to her than father and mother combined. With the tip of his knife under her chin, ready to lay her open, with her body under his, they were as close as two people could be. Beautiful.
He breathed in her pleading like it was the sweetest perfume. Her body shook beneath him with each shuddering, wet breath she took. The glob of snot glittered on her face in the moonlight and he reached back, taking hold of her dress. In a single, swift motion, the sound of fabric ripping up her thigh broke the fragile silence. Taking the strip of cloth, he dabbed at her nose, wiping her face clean for her. “There,” he said. “That’s better, isn’t it? Now, I’m going to put your mind at ease. I’m going to let you go. I won’t kill you and do you know why? Because I am merciful. You think so too, don’t you, sweet heart?”
Lukos took the knife away from her throat and stowed it back in its place. He shifted off her and took her left hand in his under the pretense of helping her to her feet. But he braced his thumb against her pinky finger, applying pressure, slowly at first, then his jaw tightened and he abruptly shoved his thumb down, breaking her finger as he pressed it hard enough to force the finger flat against her palm.
“Oh no,” he let her go and his eyes widened in round, mock surprise. “Did you hurt yourself? Let me help you sit down.” He stepped behind her and kicked his leg at her ankles, sweeping her fight straight out from underneath her. “Thank me for my kindness,” he said through gritted teeth, ready to kick her in the side if she chose not to obey.
The ripping sound of her dress made her flinch. Her first thought was, regrettably, how expensive that fabric was. Next on her mind was that she was now naked, laid open and bare for this man who was no better than an animal.
He said he wasn’t going to kill her as he dabbed away the glob of snot with what used to be her dress. For the first few seconds after, she believed him, but why should she? She didn’t trust this man farther than she could throw him and she couldn’t throw things very far. Besides, she had servants that did that for her, anyways. No, she had no reason to believe he wouldn’t kill her.
Berenike did not answer, at least not immediately, when he asked her if she thought he was merciful. She let out another barking, huffing sound that was technically a hollow laugh. She had been crying so much, however, that it was indistinguishable from a sob. Yes, she thought sarcastically, [/i]you are the angel of mercy.[/i]
She still didn’t believe him even when he took his knife away. It was out of sight, but it definitely wasn’t out of her mind. The Gods only knew where he was putting it now! For all Berenike knew, he could’ve had it poised and ready to go, aimed perfectly at her side. She imagined him thrusting the knife into her side and twisting it around. She did not want the last thing she ever saw to be his cruel, dead eyes.
He stood her up on her trembling legs, like a foal, and she prepared herself for a stab that never came. Instead, he forced her little finger down flat against her hand. Pain shot up her arm. She heard the crack of her finger and tried to convince herself that it was just that funny cracking sound knuckles sometimes made. The mixture of burning pain and numbness told her it wasn’t.
His words were all jumbled together now. He was talking, but she wasn’t really hearing him. Berenike looked down at her useless, dangling pinkie finger and tried to move it. She couldn’t. Oh Gods, it’s broken! He didn’t give her much time to think about it, because the next thing she knew she was falling to the ground. Instinctively, she put her hands out to catch her fall. She screamed when her hands hit the ground, her broken finger protesting mightily, and buckled so she was lying flat.
He was saying something else now, something about how he wanted her to thank him? Was he mad?
“Fuck you,” she whispered into the dirty and dusty floor of the abandoned apothecary. She couldn't stop herself from saying it, like her vomit from earlier. She just hoped he didn’t actually hear that for what it was. “Ahem, thank you for your kindness, sir.” Berenike turned her head to the side so that she wasn’t so muffled, though her voice didn’t sound particularly strong or grateful.
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The ripping sound of her dress made her flinch. Her first thought was, regrettably, how expensive that fabric was. Next on her mind was that she was now naked, laid open and bare for this man who was no better than an animal.
He said he wasn’t going to kill her as he dabbed away the glob of snot with what used to be her dress. For the first few seconds after, she believed him, but why should she? She didn’t trust this man farther than she could throw him and she couldn’t throw things very far. Besides, she had servants that did that for her, anyways. No, she had no reason to believe he wouldn’t kill her.
Berenike did not answer, at least not immediately, when he asked her if she thought he was merciful. She let out another barking, huffing sound that was technically a hollow laugh. She had been crying so much, however, that it was indistinguishable from a sob. Yes, she thought sarcastically, [/i]you are the angel of mercy.[/i]
She still didn’t believe him even when he took his knife away. It was out of sight, but it definitely wasn’t out of her mind. The Gods only knew where he was putting it now! For all Berenike knew, he could’ve had it poised and ready to go, aimed perfectly at her side. She imagined him thrusting the knife into her side and twisting it around. She did not want the last thing she ever saw to be his cruel, dead eyes.
He stood her up on her trembling legs, like a foal, and she prepared herself for a stab that never came. Instead, he forced her little finger down flat against her hand. Pain shot up her arm. She heard the crack of her finger and tried to convince herself that it was just that funny cracking sound knuckles sometimes made. The mixture of burning pain and numbness told her it wasn’t.
His words were all jumbled together now. He was talking, but she wasn’t really hearing him. Berenike looked down at her useless, dangling pinkie finger and tried to move it. She couldn’t. Oh Gods, it’s broken! He didn’t give her much time to think about it, because the next thing she knew she was falling to the ground. Instinctively, she put her hands out to catch her fall. She screamed when her hands hit the ground, her broken finger protesting mightily, and buckled so she was lying flat.
He was saying something else now, something about how he wanted her to thank him? Was he mad?
“Fuck you,” she whispered into the dirty and dusty floor of the abandoned apothecary. She couldn't stop herself from saying it, like her vomit from earlier. She just hoped he didn’t actually hear that for what it was. “Ahem, thank you for your kindness, sir.” Berenike turned her head to the side so that she wasn’t so muffled, though her voice didn’t sound particularly strong or grateful.
The ripping sound of her dress made her flinch. Her first thought was, regrettably, how expensive that fabric was. Next on her mind was that she was now naked, laid open and bare for this man who was no better than an animal.
He said he wasn’t going to kill her as he dabbed away the glob of snot with what used to be her dress. For the first few seconds after, she believed him, but why should she? She didn’t trust this man farther than she could throw him and she couldn’t throw things very far. Besides, she had servants that did that for her, anyways. No, she had no reason to believe he wouldn’t kill her.
Berenike did not answer, at least not immediately, when he asked her if she thought he was merciful. She let out another barking, huffing sound that was technically a hollow laugh. She had been crying so much, however, that it was indistinguishable from a sob. Yes, she thought sarcastically, [/i]you are the angel of mercy.[/i]
She still didn’t believe him even when he took his knife away. It was out of sight, but it definitely wasn’t out of her mind. The Gods only knew where he was putting it now! For all Berenike knew, he could’ve had it poised and ready to go, aimed perfectly at her side. She imagined him thrusting the knife into her side and twisting it around. She did not want the last thing she ever saw to be his cruel, dead eyes.
He stood her up on her trembling legs, like a foal, and she prepared herself for a stab that never came. Instead, he forced her little finger down flat against her hand. Pain shot up her arm. She heard the crack of her finger and tried to convince herself that it was just that funny cracking sound knuckles sometimes made. The mixture of burning pain and numbness told her it wasn’t.
His words were all jumbled together now. He was talking, but she wasn’t really hearing him. Berenike looked down at her useless, dangling pinkie finger and tried to move it. She couldn’t. Oh Gods, it’s broken! He didn’t give her much time to think about it, because the next thing she knew she was falling to the ground. Instinctively, she put her hands out to catch her fall. She screamed when her hands hit the ground, her broken finger protesting mightily, and buckled so she was lying flat.
He was saying something else now, something about how he wanted her to thank him? Was he mad?
“Fuck you,” she whispered into the dirty and dusty floor of the abandoned apothecary. She couldn't stop herself from saying it, like her vomit from earlier. She just hoped he didn’t actually hear that for what it was. “Ahem, thank you for your kindness, sir.” Berenike turned her head to the side so that she wasn’t so muffled, though her voice didn’t sound particularly strong or grateful.
Her scream was what he’d wanted. Music, really. It was what he’d been after. The fear, the pain, the knowledge that her good fortune of being born into a noble house didn’t shield her from the wolves and lions of the world like it should have. He wanted her to know that she was never, ever, truly safe. Her safety was an illusion and her broken finger would remind her, he was sure.
“Fuck you,” she muttered at the floor. Far from being angry, Lukos grinned. Her spirit was intact, at least. That meant she’d go on and probably put up a blustering front. But in the darkest hour of the night? When she lay alone in her bed and there was no one to be brave for? She’d remember. Remember that there was at least one person on this planet who could and had hurt her, and if he ever crossed her path in the future, would do it again.
“Ahem, thank you for your kindness, sir.” She turned so that he could hear her better and Lukos thought that was just so sweet. So obedient. Her dress was still intact over her chest and stomach, but definitely in tatters below the waist. In the slice of moonlight, he could see the silver sheen on her bare thigh and he smoothed his hand up her leg, running his tongue over his lower lip. Unfortunately for him and fortunately for her, she was just so unappealing at the moment. The stench of alcohol and vomit clung to her, mingled with the scent of sweat and tears. It was potent and turned him off just enough to leave her alone, though if she’d have fought him more, he’d have turned her over and shown her what true pain felt like. True violation. But that wasn’t necessary in this case and he didn’t do that as a habit. Only for the really special women he hated for reasons far more than being pushed into adders.
“Go home, princess,” he gave her bare ass a slap and stood up. “I’m not desperate enough to rape you.” Edging closer, he grinned and said, “You’re just not that interesting to me.” He imagined she might find relief in that but insult as well. Not interesting enough to rape? He wanted her to know and live with the knowledge that even someone birthed into slavery wouldn’t fuck her. Not even when he could. Another slap on her ass, like she was a horse, rather than a person, and Lukos stood. He aimed one more kick into her abdomen, just to make himself feel better and to make good and sure she was a little too preoccupied to properly follow him, and left her there in the darkness.
“By the way,” he said, stopping in the door frame, “Thanks for the evening. I’ll be seeing you,” he said cheerfully. With that, he was entirely gone, melting into the shadows of the night and perfectly satisfied with his evening.
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Her scream was what he’d wanted. Music, really. It was what he’d been after. The fear, the pain, the knowledge that her good fortune of being born into a noble house didn’t shield her from the wolves and lions of the world like it should have. He wanted her to know that she was never, ever, truly safe. Her safety was an illusion and her broken finger would remind her, he was sure.
“Fuck you,” she muttered at the floor. Far from being angry, Lukos grinned. Her spirit was intact, at least. That meant she’d go on and probably put up a blustering front. But in the darkest hour of the night? When she lay alone in her bed and there was no one to be brave for? She’d remember. Remember that there was at least one person on this planet who could and had hurt her, and if he ever crossed her path in the future, would do it again.
“Ahem, thank you for your kindness, sir.” She turned so that he could hear her better and Lukos thought that was just so sweet. So obedient. Her dress was still intact over her chest and stomach, but definitely in tatters below the waist. In the slice of moonlight, he could see the silver sheen on her bare thigh and he smoothed his hand up her leg, running his tongue over his lower lip. Unfortunately for him and fortunately for her, she was just so unappealing at the moment. The stench of alcohol and vomit clung to her, mingled with the scent of sweat and tears. It was potent and turned him off just enough to leave her alone, though if she’d have fought him more, he’d have turned her over and shown her what true pain felt like. True violation. But that wasn’t necessary in this case and he didn’t do that as a habit. Only for the really special women he hated for reasons far more than being pushed into adders.
“Go home, princess,” he gave her bare ass a slap and stood up. “I’m not desperate enough to rape you.” Edging closer, he grinned and said, “You’re just not that interesting to me.” He imagined she might find relief in that but insult as well. Not interesting enough to rape? He wanted her to know and live with the knowledge that even someone birthed into slavery wouldn’t fuck her. Not even when he could. Another slap on her ass, like she was a horse, rather than a person, and Lukos stood. He aimed one more kick into her abdomen, just to make himself feel better and to make good and sure she was a little too preoccupied to properly follow him, and left her there in the darkness.
“By the way,” he said, stopping in the door frame, “Thanks for the evening. I’ll be seeing you,” he said cheerfully. With that, he was entirely gone, melting into the shadows of the night and perfectly satisfied with his evening.
Her scream was what he’d wanted. Music, really. It was what he’d been after. The fear, the pain, the knowledge that her good fortune of being born into a noble house didn’t shield her from the wolves and lions of the world like it should have. He wanted her to know that she was never, ever, truly safe. Her safety was an illusion and her broken finger would remind her, he was sure.
“Fuck you,” she muttered at the floor. Far from being angry, Lukos grinned. Her spirit was intact, at least. That meant she’d go on and probably put up a blustering front. But in the darkest hour of the night? When she lay alone in her bed and there was no one to be brave for? She’d remember. Remember that there was at least one person on this planet who could and had hurt her, and if he ever crossed her path in the future, would do it again.
“Ahem, thank you for your kindness, sir.” She turned so that he could hear her better and Lukos thought that was just so sweet. So obedient. Her dress was still intact over her chest and stomach, but definitely in tatters below the waist. In the slice of moonlight, he could see the silver sheen on her bare thigh and he smoothed his hand up her leg, running his tongue over his lower lip. Unfortunately for him and fortunately for her, she was just so unappealing at the moment. The stench of alcohol and vomit clung to her, mingled with the scent of sweat and tears. It was potent and turned him off just enough to leave her alone, though if she’d have fought him more, he’d have turned her over and shown her what true pain felt like. True violation. But that wasn’t necessary in this case and he didn’t do that as a habit. Only for the really special women he hated for reasons far more than being pushed into adders.
“Go home, princess,” he gave her bare ass a slap and stood up. “I’m not desperate enough to rape you.” Edging closer, he grinned and said, “You’re just not that interesting to me.” He imagined she might find relief in that but insult as well. Not interesting enough to rape? He wanted her to know and live with the knowledge that even someone birthed into slavery wouldn’t fuck her. Not even when he could. Another slap on her ass, like she was a horse, rather than a person, and Lukos stood. He aimed one more kick into her abdomen, just to make himself feel better and to make good and sure she was a little too preoccupied to properly follow him, and left her there in the darkness.
“By the way,” he said, stopping in the door frame, “Thanks for the evening. I’ll be seeing you,” he said cheerfully. With that, he was entirely gone, melting into the shadows of the night and perfectly satisfied with his evening.
Nicky grunted at the slap to her backside. It was probably the least painful thing he’d done to her tonight, but it felt more dehumanizing than everything else. Yes, her broken finger still protested mightily, and her sore ribs ached beneath her bruising skin, but the slap to her ass put her mind back on the track Lukos wanted: he could and would do anything to her in this moment. She was powerless to stop him.
Why me? She thought bitterly. She thought of all the times she’d been rude, all the times she’d prioritized extravagance over humility, and she realized what this was.
The Gods were punishing her. There was no other explanation. They sought to teach their disobedient child a lesson. She understood now, and she understood what she must do. Berenike began to pray, silently of course, to Isis the mother goddess. Isis was the most compassionate of the Gods. She would hear Berenike’s prayers and relieve her suffering. Her previous prayers had fallen on deaf ears, or rather ones that just didn’t care, because they thought she deserved this. But Isis? Isis would help her.
Berenike had been fully expecting this pig of a man to force himself on her. All signs had pointed to that so there was no other conclusion she could come to. Why beat up some random woman and then not take advantage of her? These male gods didn’t understand the shame of her situation. Only another woman could and that is why she chose to plead for Isis’s favor.
As she began to once again tune Lukos out, instead focusing on prayer, she almost asked him to repeat himself when he told her to go home. Was he serious? He was letting her go? Tears of joy sprang to her eyes and she began to weep again.
Thank you, thank you, thank— Her thanks to the mother goddess were cut short by a sharp kick to her abdomen. She let out a groan that was almost more of a wail at the pain. She wouldn’t be moving from this position for a little while, not until she’d gathered the strength. He’d made sure she had almost none.
She didn’t reply to his parting words. She ignored his cruel sarcasm, and when she was sure he was gone, lifted her hand in an obscene gesture.
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Nicky grunted at the slap to her backside. It was probably the least painful thing he’d done to her tonight, but it felt more dehumanizing than everything else. Yes, her broken finger still protested mightily, and her sore ribs ached beneath her bruising skin, but the slap to her ass put her mind back on the track Lukos wanted: he could and would do anything to her in this moment. She was powerless to stop him.
Why me? She thought bitterly. She thought of all the times she’d been rude, all the times she’d prioritized extravagance over humility, and she realized what this was.
The Gods were punishing her. There was no other explanation. They sought to teach their disobedient child a lesson. She understood now, and she understood what she must do. Berenike began to pray, silently of course, to Isis the mother goddess. Isis was the most compassionate of the Gods. She would hear Berenike’s prayers and relieve her suffering. Her previous prayers had fallen on deaf ears, or rather ones that just didn’t care, because they thought she deserved this. But Isis? Isis would help her.
Berenike had been fully expecting this pig of a man to force himself on her. All signs had pointed to that so there was no other conclusion she could come to. Why beat up some random woman and then not take advantage of her? These male gods didn’t understand the shame of her situation. Only another woman could and that is why she chose to plead for Isis’s favor.
As she began to once again tune Lukos out, instead focusing on prayer, she almost asked him to repeat himself when he told her to go home. Was he serious? He was letting her go? Tears of joy sprang to her eyes and she began to weep again.
Thank you, thank you, thank— Her thanks to the mother goddess were cut short by a sharp kick to her abdomen. She let out a groan that was almost more of a wail at the pain. She wouldn’t be moving from this position for a little while, not until she’d gathered the strength. He’d made sure she had almost none.
She didn’t reply to his parting words. She ignored his cruel sarcasm, and when she was sure he was gone, lifted her hand in an obscene gesture.
Nicky grunted at the slap to her backside. It was probably the least painful thing he’d done to her tonight, but it felt more dehumanizing than everything else. Yes, her broken finger still protested mightily, and her sore ribs ached beneath her bruising skin, but the slap to her ass put her mind back on the track Lukos wanted: he could and would do anything to her in this moment. She was powerless to stop him.
Why me? She thought bitterly. She thought of all the times she’d been rude, all the times she’d prioritized extravagance over humility, and she realized what this was.
The Gods were punishing her. There was no other explanation. They sought to teach their disobedient child a lesson. She understood now, and she understood what she must do. Berenike began to pray, silently of course, to Isis the mother goddess. Isis was the most compassionate of the Gods. She would hear Berenike’s prayers and relieve her suffering. Her previous prayers had fallen on deaf ears, or rather ones that just didn’t care, because they thought she deserved this. But Isis? Isis would help her.
Berenike had been fully expecting this pig of a man to force himself on her. All signs had pointed to that so there was no other conclusion she could come to. Why beat up some random woman and then not take advantage of her? These male gods didn’t understand the shame of her situation. Only another woman could and that is why she chose to plead for Isis’s favor.
As she began to once again tune Lukos out, instead focusing on prayer, she almost asked him to repeat himself when he told her to go home. Was he serious? He was letting her go? Tears of joy sprang to her eyes and she began to weep again.
Thank you, thank you, thank— Her thanks to the mother goddess were cut short by a sharp kick to her abdomen. She let out a groan that was almost more of a wail at the pain. She wouldn’t be moving from this position for a little while, not until she’d gathered the strength. He’d made sure she had almost none.
She didn’t reply to his parting words. She ignored his cruel sarcasm, and when she was sure he was gone, lifted her hand in an obscene gesture.