The Toll (26 page)

“
You can’t hurt me
anymore!!” Arms flailing out, I shot up in bed, waking up, my mouth
wide open, ending on a blood curdling scream.

Mamma and Papa came rushing in, their
eyes running wildly around the room as I curled up in a ball and
sobbed.

Someone put their candle out and I
felt a small, frail, nightgown encased body slip in beside mine.
The thin, bony hands of my mother ran soothingly through my hair,
rocking along with me as she sang softly over the top of my
head.

“
It’s alright, now,
Daphie,” she whispered. “He can’t hurt you anymore. That’s right.
It’s okay. It’s all done now. Sh...”

But I knew, as she rocked me and
eventually fell asleep herself, holding me tight as I lay there,
wide awake, I knew, my dream was somehow very real, and he was
still very capable of hurting me.

The Dregs

A voice called out to me, whispering
my name softly, but I flinched, warding it off, even in
sleep.

It went on like that, night after
night, my first inclination to subconsciously block the entreaty,
mentally retreating far, far away from it. But on this night, it
was more than persistent, railing at me for not acknowledging its
existence.

“
I can’t,” I mumbled,
rolling over in my sleep. “You’ll hurt me. Can’t. It
hurts.”

An animalistic snarl met my ears and
my eyes popped open wide.

My heart sped up and I
thought a wild animal had snuck into my room. And it was
my
room.

A warm body pressed into my back and I
turned my head, shocked as a very familiar pair of hot, thick lips
met mine.

Fingers grasping for purchase, I
gripped the sheet, fighting the urge to turn and kiss him back, his
tongue sweeping in to run across mine hungrily, my blankets ripped
back as thick, solid hands turned me for him, running up the length
of my thighs.

“
Ah, gods, I’ve missed
ye.”

He wasted no time tearing my
underthings off and working his way down my body, burying his face
in my pussy.

Sex throbbing, I cried out, clamping
my legs around his head tight as he sucked on my clit, hot lips and
warm breath driving me wild, his tongue dragging up and down my
hidden pearl, growling at the first taste.

His voice vibrated against my overly
sensitized skin, sending sparks shooting up through me, burning me
to my core.

With a deep growl, he hefted himself
over me and slid home just as I came, my sheath contracting and
releasing rhythmically, his cock slipping easily through my
slippery, convulsing depths.

“
Be as loud as ye want,
luv, no one can hear us,” he groaned. “Ah, yes... so wet, so
tight...
Mine.
Ah... jus’ like tha’... mmm.”

I moaned and gripped at his head and
neck as his thickened shaft pulled out and pressed back into me,
slowly pistoning inside of me steadily.

My lips met his in a fiery maelstrom
as he pumped into me eagerly, his cock thickening to the point I
thought I might burst as he sped up, meeting my greedy demands as I
cried out, “Harder!” and, “More!”

“
Come for me,” he snarled
into my throat, and then I did, feeling like my entire being, not
just my body, shattered around him, glittering into a hundred,
teeny tiny magnificent pieces, just as he did, growling out my name
as he slammed into me and came.

Shuddering in ecstasy, he fell atop me
heavily when he’d finished, nuzzling and nipping along the
sensitive column of my throat, wrapping his arms around me tight as
he mumbled sweetly in my ear.

Still trembling in the aftermath, I
started crying in earnest, swiping quickly at the
evidence.

Noticing the wetness gathering across
my cheeks to trail down my face, he swiped a few of the stray ones
away as I gripped his palm and kissed it, whispering those three
little worlds you’re only allowed to say if you mean it.

A small puff of air huffing out of
him, he tensed and lifted his head. “What did ye say
now?”

“
I can say whatever I
want,” I sniffled, “I know, this time, that it isn’t real. It’s
okay here.”

Facing pulling down into a fearsome
scowl, he pressed his weight into me a little, frowning
disconcertedly. “Does this feel like a dream ta ye,
nugget?”

“
No,” I easily agreed, “but
I
know
it’s a
dream.” Sniffling quietly, I shook my head when it looked like he
was going to argue.

“
We’re in Mid-Realm. Tis a
cross between Under and Hegtrag—that’s what Other call ye’re human
realm.”

Without answering, I shook my head. I
knew a dream when I’ve lived one.

“
Then how do ye know it
isna real?” he grumbled, making me smile. “An’ do ye dream of me
often, then? If this isna real?”

“
Every night,” I admitted
to the dream Gersthart unabashedly, the one who doesn’t hate me,
the one I’d grown rather attached to. The one I ache for, for some
blasted reason, and it bothers the hell out of me. The one who
wouldn’t have hurt me like the real one had, abandoning and cursing
me, treating me like a whore.

“
An’ how is this any
different? How’s it unreal? How is it ye can tell, eh?”

“
That’s easy,” I smiled and
reached up, savoring his touch as he nuzzled into my cupped palm,
closing his eyes as I stroked along his smooth, squared jaw, “You
don’t hate me. You look at me like... like...”

He opened his eyes and met mine, that
look of longing I’d realized too late was for me, peeking out at
me.

“
Yes, like that. The way
you used to.”

“
An’ how that be?” Troll
chuffed, trying to bluff.

“
Like I’m something,
somebody—special. Like you love me too,” I whispered softly,
knowing he’d still hear. Scooting closer, I turned and yawned,
snuggling my back against him, not waiting for his reply, wrapping
his arm around me tight when he hesitated. “I have some questions,
though, not that you could answer them as the real you would, but I
want to know.”

“
An’ what would those be?”
He tried to pull his hand back, as if he’d thought better of it,
but I held him tight.

“
What did I do wrong?
Why... why do you hate me?”

“
Ye... ye really dinna
know?”

“
You already know the
answer to that,” I murmured, drifting off to sleep.

****

I woke with a start the next morning,
lifting my head up groggily. It was still very early, the first
beams of morning light streaming into my room.

My hand slowly came up to rub at my
swollen lips, gaze drifting down to where my gown was hiked up
around my waist, my sex bared.

Blowing out a long breath, I dropped
my head back on my pillow and groaned, my eyes popping open to
stare at the ceiling.

“
Please tell me I made
raucous, shout the roof down love to my pillow,” I mumbled, loath
to face the day and all of its dawning reality.

The cock crowing outside, and the
third bag of coins, a red one this time, sitting neatly atop my
small crate dresser, all three lined up nicely in a row, said
otherwise.

I slept with the small chest I kept at
the foot of my bed pressed up against my door, and a pair of men’s
breeches on after that, hoping like hell troll magic didn’t poof
you into a room.

It’s The Little
Things

Papa came in for lunch, rubbing his
temples tiredly as he plopped down next to me at the table, where I
was studiously snapping green beans.

Trystan came in not too long after,
sitting down across from me, smiling his thanks as Mamma fetched
him a pitcher of water and a cup. Taking the cup gratefully, he
thanked her one last time and took a long swig.

Noting the action, I caught his eye
over the rim but quickly looked away.

“
Why aren’t you eating at
home?” I asked bluntly, “Don’t you have a wife to cook your meals?”
I wasn’t being mean about it, just honest.

“
Uh, well,
uh...”

“
He got sick the last time
he tried to stomach one of her suppers,” Papa snorted and stole one
of my green beans from the small bowl. “She cooks as good as she
stitches.”

I blinked and opened and closed my
mouth, clearing my throat before I went back to my
beans.

“
Oh, no,” Mamma said after
a long moment, cutting thick slices of bread for everyone, “she’s
better at sewing than cooking.”

“
She’s terrible at sewing,”
I blurted, before I’d thought better of it.

“
And aint that the truth,”
Papa whispered with growing co-conspirator-ship.

Lips tugging up, I smiled a little and
hid it over my bowl, but it soon turned into a quiet chuckle, and
the bowl shook as I gripped it, worried it might spill
over.

“
I’ve missed your
laugh.”

My smile fell, chuckle dying on my
lips as my head shot up to stare at Trystan as he met my gaze
evenly, staring deeply into my eyes. He didn’t apologize or take it
back, announcing it so boldly in front of my parents—his
in-laws.

Embarrassed, I looked away, his gaze
too much, especially when the feelings he had were no longer
reciprocated.

Otvla chose that moment to walk in,
sniffing hungrily, plopping down right next to me.

“
What’s for lunch? I’m
starved,” she asked Mamma, the look on Trystan’s face as he eyed
his wife saying they most certainly would if they didn’t count on
my folks for nourishment.

I couldn’t help it when I started
laughing, and I didn’t hold back, letting it tumble out of my gut,
spilling out, loud and long, Papa’s small, amused chuckle soon
joining in. It felt good.

“
What?” Otvla demanded
around a mouth full of bread. “What did I say?”

Exposed

I sat in the hip bath, several weeks
having passed, the most slow going, miserably drudging weeks of my
life. Lathering up my arms, I was careful of the flaking, healing
black patterns forever tattooed into my skin.

I refused to admit that I
might,
might
, be
feeling a bit blue as of late, as if I was missing a part of
myself, a deep sense of loss I desperately needed to
fill.

Thankfully, I hadn’t had any other
dreams of Troll since that one night, and I was glad of it. My
dreams were blissfully empty, the real and otherwise.

Splashing more water over my neck and
chest, I sighed heavily and admitted, if only to myself, it was
killing me. It shouldn’t, but it was. Just the sound of his voice,
even if just to berate me for a few seconds, would suffice. He’d
stopped calling out to me, trying to coax me to him in my dreams,
and now it had me anxious, worrying.

Did he lose interest? Or is
he going to do something else entirely? A new approach,
maybe?

I always started out along that line
of thinking, but wouldn’t allow myself to wallow in it for long.
Nothing good could come of it.

The pouches full of gold were
currently the bane of my existence, my current distraction/focus,
coming back to me, like clockwork, no matter where I tossed or
buried them, determined to get rid of the dirty coins.

My hair was piled up high atop my head
as I sat, not quite knee deep in lukewarm water, splashing the soap
off of me as quietly as possible, my back facing the
door.

I’d dragged the large wooden tub into
my room, stationing it at the foot of my bed, heating and hefty the
water quietly, so as not to wake anyone, all by myself.

I was unwilling to wake Mamma up and
have to explain why I wouldn’t be bathing out in the middle of the
kitchen, as we’d all grown up used to doing.

I’d never had to worry about anyone
walking in on me as I’d had my bath back then, Papa was long gone
to the field, and I wasn’t shy about being naked in front of Mamma
or Otvla. That was just how things had always been.

Now I avoided that very thing, almost
fearing it. That’s why I’d decided to take one so early, my
parent’s still soundly asleep.

Sighing heavily, I fingered the black
swirling patterns slowly, dotting my skin, a deep sense of shame
washing over me. They didn’t hurt anymore, the pain quickly fading,
leaving me with only the sharp, vivid memory of how I’d received
them. Sometimes, when my emotions were high, I could almost swear
they tingled.

My head cocked to the side, dragging
me from my thoughts, when I heard a small creak, as if the door
hinge was rattling again.

Pausing, I held perfectly still and
waited.

Nothing.

Huh.
It was windy outside, so I chalked it off to that.
I’ll have to remember to tell Papa later so he
can check it.