Nightshade by Jaide Fox Page A

loose. “No!” she cried out.
     
    He uttered a snarled curse and stopped dragging her. The moment the pain eased on her scalp, Bronwyn ceased pulling at the hand in her hair and began raking it with her nails. He released her abruptly and slapped her, sending her slamming into the stone floor again.
     
    Stunned, she couldn’t even struggle as he grabbed her and hauled her roughly to her feet. “Claw me again and I will break your fingers,” he growled. “No one will notice broken fingers when every bone in your body is broken from the fall, and I will not bear marks that have everyone wondering if I threw you over.”
     
    “Why?” Bronwyn gasped weakly as she felt him shift her weight and begin carrying her toward the crenellations again. In teeth gritted silence, she struggled for her life with every ounce of strength she could muster, hanging limply so that he bore all of her weight, prying at the arms that gripped her bruisingly.
     
    He snorted. “Why not? I’ve no use for you anymore. I have your paltry landholdings and even more insignificant wealth. I’ve a fatter pigeon in mind … but first I have to be a widower.”
     
    He was breathing heavily by the time he’d reached the parapet with her, but Bronwyn knew he still had more than enough strength to lift her over and pitch her to her death.
     
    Defeat swelled over her as she realized she had nothing to barter with. Gathering the remnants of her strength as he shifted his hold on her to lift her, she began fighting him, uttering animal-like noises of fear, anger and distress, too caught up in trying to break his hold even to consider screaming.
     
    He broke her hold each time she managed to secure one, lifting her inexorably toward the point of no return in spite of all she could. Almost as abruptly as her battle had begun, it ended. He ripped her clawing fingers loose from his tunic and she felt her stomach lurch as her body dropped.
     
    Flailing her arms wildly, she clawed the air for purchase. Miraculously, her hand struck stonework, curled instinctively. Pain shot through her shoulder, elbow and wrist as her body dropped, almost snatching her grip loose. Dazed, terrified, she dimly realized she’d managed to catch a tenuous hold of one of the gargoyles that guarded Raventhorne Keep’s entrance. Uttering little sounds of fear and effort, she swung briefly, trying to find purchase with her free hand, trying to ignore the burning in the hand and arm that had given her a few more moments of life. “Please,” she gasped breathlessly, hopelessly, tearfully. “Help me. Please.”
     
    “Bitch!” William snarled above her, beside himself with rage that she’d managed to break her fall even temporarily. “You stupid whore!”
     
    Her fingers slipped. She struggled harder, but it merely loosened the only hold she had. She sucked in a sharp breath of terror as she lost her grip. Bile rose in her throat as her stomach clenched. Air whistled past her ears, fluttered the fabric of her nightrail so that it snapped.
     
    She slammed into something so hard it knocked the breath from her lungs. An internal darkness swarmed around her, threatening to completely consume her.
     
    It hadn’t hurt nearly as much as she had though it would, she thought dimly as sensation of falling stopped and she felt her body seem to float upward.
     
    Not floating, precisely, she realized in confusion, and the tight bands around her weren’t pain from broken ribs. Arms held her, shifted her into a firmer hold. She felt almost a rocking motion, lift, pause, lift--as if she was being hoisted upward.
     
    A jolt went through her as those sensations ended. She let out a gasp and clung frantically as the sensation of falling rushed over her again. The cold and hardness of stone touched her skin. Hands peeled her hands loose.
     
    She peered up as she felt the presence move away from her, but she could see nothing but a huge, shapeless form above her.
     
    William uttered a