Bee Among the Clover (133 page)

Osric shook his head. “Maybe when we’re done playing with him, Aethlyn, but not just yet.” The smile on his face was sadistic. “He doesn’t have to be pretty for Wulfgar to fuck him.” He wrenched Aron’s head back further until it was hard to breathe, his back arching at an awkward angle. “You think you saved your plaything, but all you did was delay his punishment. I’m going to make it that much worse for having to wait for it. In the meantime, I’m going to make you scream thrice for every one I was denied from him.” Aron couldn’t hold back the fear, but he didn’t lessen his glare one bit.
Osric’s hand went to his belt, unsheathing his dagger. He placed the edge just under Aron’s right eye, the tip pressing into the skin. His breath quickened as a sheen of sweat broke out over his body. Terror clawed his insides, and his flesh cringed away from the knife.
“You ever hear how a man screams when his eye is taken?” Osric asked, chuckling and dragging the point of the dagger down. Aron felt the sting as it just barely cut skin. “A cripple is useless to his thane. Once your servitude is up, you’d have to beg to survive, and it’s unlikely that anyone else would want you in their bed, scarred and ugly.”
Aron tightened his jaw, determined not to let the fear overwhelm him. Roman got away. That’s what was important. Wulfgar would protect him.
Abruptly, Osric took the point of the dagger away from his eye, and Aron couldn’t help his small sound of relief. It was short-lived; the trepidation came back when Osric started cutting away his tunic and breeches around the ropes still binding him. His heart sank into his gut. Osric was going to drag this out as long as possible, playing with his mind and torturing his body. It would be many hours before Wulfgar was back at the tent and would begin looking for him. If the thane wasn’t too drunk to notice that he was missing until the morning.