Tears filled Brice’s eyes. He is going to kill me, she thought as the metal moved against her skin. She squeezed her eyes closed and willed the tears not to fall. I will not die a coward. Courage. Her heart raced as his grip on her slave collar tightened. Then suddenly, with a sharp jerk, it was gone; her collar was gone.
No sooner had she realized what he had just done than his hand was back at her throat. Tilting her chin up, he bent his head to examine her neck.
“Good,” he said mildly. He sheathed his blade and then asked, “Do you want to keep it?” He extended his left hand so she could see the strip of leather that lay there. It was strange looking, lying there limp and broken. Brice never thought she would see it in someone’s hand. Shaking, she turned her face away. “I don’t blame you,” he said. Flinging it into the water, Darius gathered the reins and urged the horse to raise his head.
Tears coursed down Brice’s face. They were not tears of joy. I don’t understand. She had never felt so confused and afraid in her life. This man does not make sense and it scares me.
The Mercenary's Marriage
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