Under the vampire Lord's protection-Chapter 152: A little tighed up

A familiar melody came to her from afar. Weak and distant at first, it grew stronger with every second that passed.

It was a woman... No... It only sounded like one but was not.

Zimmerlarks! That was what they were!

Their song mingled with the light, cool touch that feathered her skin, carrying a soft earthy tone along with the pungent sourness of napiel and then came the shuffling before the foreign voice.

"No, the sun is rising so the others must’ve sought cover. Only one of them walks under the sun so a break should be fine,"

The raspy timbre dragged many things with it, the memories of what had taken place, the strain in her movements, the sense of tightness especially around her wrists, feet and mouth and then the hard surface her body had been laid upon.

All of the sudden, a new sensation hit her out of nowhere. That of a cold and sharp object being pressed right against her throat before a repugnantly warm breath brushed her face.

"I know you’re awake little girl," the man sort of giggled, "Now, be a good girl and open your eyes for me, but I don’t want to hear a peep out of you,"

Arabella hadn’t yet laid eyes on him, but through the rotten smell in every exhale out of his mouth, the young woman knew for sure none of his teeth were healthy.

And they indeed, weren’t for the first clear image her gemstones had gathered after chasing the veil that blurred her vision proved her assumption right.

"There you go," he grunted. The wide grin his features displayed did not help his cracking dry lips one bit, "See, we were paid very handsomely to retrieve you without harming you, but I am sure you would agree that no money would do us any good if we’re dead, wouldn’t you?" the wretched smile on him vanished instantly, "Nod if you agree!" he hissed, bringing his face even closer to hers.

Eyebrows as bushy and unkempt as a wild forest, his meaty face blocked every other sight beyond himself. From the looks of his skin, if Arabella had been able to give him one advice, it would’ve been to drink more water for his own sake.

Nevertheless, and through much sniveling, the young woman nodded as slowly and carefully as possible to avoid accidentally cutting her throat on the knife he held to it.

"Get your fugly face out of her sight," another man spoke, his voice gruff but much less so than the first, "If anything will make her scream it’s you,"

"Yeah...," in response, he dragged the word, further breathing in her face, "I bet I can make her scream in many different ways," his black, beady eyes darted down, lingering on her chest first and then even lower.

His hand slowly reached for her thigh, causing the young woman to recoil further into whatever pressed against her back. Thick, solid and harsh, upon turning away from the man, she realized what held her was a tree trunk. A very dark one at that which much like the singing zimmerlarks rang many bells in her mind.

"Ammund! Hands off!" the second man raised his voice.

Features twisted, Arabella did her best to contain her breathing while keeping a firm grasp around her vocal cords.

The so called Ammund rose back to his feet and walked away while his eyes still undressed her figure.

Her troubles weren’t over, but at the very least, the view became clearer and untainted with his filthy breath.

As she’d suspected, they were, in fact, in the forest of the lost souls. Upon attempting to wiggle her fingers, her muscles barely responded as though fallen asleep, but that came as no shock seeing how tightly her wrists had been bound.

Her feet were in no better position either, practically attached together at the ankles. She’d taken the action of bringing them further up against her bottom when cowering away from her kidnapper.

Sinking towards her heels, her heart grew beastly throughout its journey. Coming to the realization that there was quite literally nothing for her to do in order to escape that situation, did not quell the dread that had washed over her. On the contrary, a quiet train of tears kept on streaming down her cheeks one after the other, wetting the cloth that served as a gag around her mouth.

Surely those were hired by her own father and soon she’d be delivered like the package she always was in his eyes.

The sun had already risen, which meant they’d already come a long way from their position after the second tunnel had been sealed. Not to mention, they would have needed to have cut a great distance to stand in the forest of lost souls from that same spot.

At those thoughts, the memories from the attack struck her back like a speedy carriage, leaving her with more questions to solve. Such as, what about the others? Had they hurt anyone else? And the fairies that sat upon her shoulders, what had become of them? The kidnappers weren’t gentle with their fragile frames, and they must’ve been hurt!

All by her fault! Had she not been there, none of it would’ve happened! She’d brought that curse upon them when none of them asked.

And... What about Silas? Was he... Doing anything to get her back or... Did he conclude that since she was no longer on their property then it meant it was no longer of his business what happened to her?

Would anyone dare come to her rescue? Afterall, most of them would have understood by then that it was her own father’s doing, so... Would they even lift a finger?

The second man that had spoken stood taller than Ammund. Blond and less beefy, he had more grace in his motions. Though it was clear through his features that he had more years on her in that world.

"Remain quiet and do as you’re told. No harm will come to you," he addressed her, "And worry not, you’re travelling to cushy place, back with your own people where you belong,"

As he uttered those words, Arabella only cried harder while making sure her voice was not heard.