“What did you do?” she shouted, voice ragged and hoarse as she squirmed against the rough bindings. “What is this rope? What did you bind me with?”

The dark elf gave no reply. His jaw set grimly as his fingers continued to wrap and knot the ropes precisely. He secured her wrists and ankles then worked a separate coil around her elbows and torso to fasten them tightly to her body. When satisfied, he clutched the rope’s long end as a makeshift leash and dragged her entirety along the beach. Her mind reeled at the indignity: her forearms pinned behind her, legs unable to bend without pressing against taut cords. She choked back a cry at the sand scraping her everywhere from her head to her stomach and legs.

“Stop!” Elle gasped, the coarse grains abrading her skin, filling her mouth. She twisted and kicked, but her bound legs barely allowed any movement. Each new tug sent a scrape of sand against her already raw arms and chest. The midday sun hammered down, thick with clamminess and the stench of salt. It was impossible to catch a proper breath as heat and exhaustion conspired to blur her vision.

The villain plodded on, impassive despite her struggles. Time warped, becoming a drawn-out haze of sweltering sun and tearful humiliation. Sweat rolled into her eyes; her matted hair clung to her face.

How long had it been? She had no sense of direction, barely a sense of time. Eventually, clouds gathered overhead, turning the sky to a dim, overcast gray.

At last, her captor halted. He tugged on the leash, hauling her body over a shallow rise in the shore. She was unceremoniously dumped into a sandy pit that held a few inches of seawater. Her knees and hips struck the uneven ground hard, sending a jolt of pain up her spine. She coughed, grimacing as the briny liquid splashed her lips. Everything was heavier now, the sun’s glare all but gone, replaced by the heavy hush of impending rain.

“Let…me…go,” Elle hissed, managing to turn onto her side. Her wrists throbbed, bound painfully behind her back, and the wet sand clung to her arms and legs. A thin trickle of water washed over her knees. The sky darkened further, and a faint patter of raindrops began to strike the shoreline.

He stood a short distance away, his back partially turned, scanning the coast as though watching for another threat or ally. He didn’t even glance at her pleas. Rain dotted the leaves of sparse palm-like trees, and soon the drizzle intensified into a light shower. Each cool drop stung against her sun-baked skin.

Elle’s pulse thundered in her ears. Anger warred with the helplessness of her situation.

“I’ll break free eventually,” she ground out, rain beginning to bead in her hair and roll down her cheeks. “You can’t keep me like this.”

She only caught the faintest flicker of movement from him—perhaps an unsettled posture shift, but he remained silent. If the beast felt any regret or conflict, he kept it well hidden. Lightning flickered at the horizon, thunder rolling in with a distant rumble. Wind swept the rain sideways, spattering her face until she could barely see. Her captor knelt at the edge of the pit, peering out to sea again, an unreadable expression darkening his features.

What’s he looking for? she wondered. A rendezvous? Reinforcements?

A low surge of the tide crept closer, inch by inch. Saltwater lapped at the pit, threatening to fill it faster than she could maneuver. Bound as she was, she couldn’t properly brace herself, and a tremor of fear snaked through her.

She wouldn’t drown here, not in this miserable hole. She vowed to herself silently.

The woman tried to maneuver her shoulders, testing the cords that pinned her arms behind her. The rope bit into her skin, sending a burst of pain through her muscles. There had to be a way out. She refused to let that spark of defiance gutter out even as the sky opened up, cold rain pouring in sheets across the desolate beach.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Her captor glanced down at her, his visage flickering, and then turned his attention away. The downpour masked the sweat on her brow and tears that refused to be fully contained. Still, her heart thundered with the wild drums of anger and hope. Rage at her captivity, courage she could seize any chance, no matter how small, to escape. She’d lost everything, but she still had breath in her lungs. That was enough to sustain the ember of resistance burning inside her for the moment.

The soft patter of rain drummed against her skin as Elle slowly managed to prop herself upright on her knees, bound wrists aching behind her back. Breathing hard, she scanned the shoreline only to spot her captor further up the beach beneath a makeshift tarp. She squinted through the dripping curtain of her tangled hair, focusing on him for the first time since their violent altercation.

He was stripped of his heavier, intricate layers now, his once-torn cloak lying beside him. Instead, he was bare for the meantime, exposing a lean torso etched with faint scars. Low-slung trousers clung to his hips, and his naked feet gripped the wet sand. Water trickled off his shoulders, carving pale rivulets through the rain-slicked grime coating his skin.

His ears were pointed, shorter than a full-blooded elf’s but longer than most human hybrids she had seen. The lavender tint to his complexion—paler than the shadowy grays of true dark elves—accentuated the slashes of muscle along his arms, the faint silvery scars crossing them in diagonal lines. Each scar looked carefully healed.

Dripping black hair trailed to his shoulders, strands plastered against his neck. His wet locks revealed a sharp jawline, broad cheekbones, and eyes a shade of jade flecked with gold. She noticed a few stray locks clinging to his forehead; he brushed them aside while continuing to sew a fresh patch onto his cloak with steady hands. The gesture was so casual that it belied the ruthlessness he’d shown in binding her.

Burn every detail into memory, Elle thought fiercely, letting her gaze absorb everything about him. The subtle scars on his chest; some old and faint, others newer, pinker. A single jagged mark ran diagonally across his ribs. Each movement of his needlework made the muscles of his forearm tighten and relax, revealing more lines she hadn’t noticed before. Even the shape of his fingernails—short, square, and slightly dirty from rummaging around the sand—lodged itself in her mind.

She’d kill him.

As if sensing her scrutiny, he paused. Their eyes met across the short expanse of storm-beaten sand. The jade flecks in his irises gleamed in predatory calmness. Then, with an almost dismissive shift of his posture, he went back to stitching, the needle glinting dully in the meager firelight.

Elle’s anger flared hotter, her mind seething along with her heaving chest. Still, she watched every flicker of his gaze, the subtle set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders—every detail that might give her a clue to who he was, or a future edge in battle.

If she managed to break loose, the memory of that physique, of his stance and reflexes, would guide her next move.

He paused sewing to examine his needle closely.

Lightning flared across the dark sky, illuminating the man in a stark flash. His silhouette loomed, sharp and menacing against the palm trees behind him. For a moment, the illumination revealed the full shape of his torso of corded muscle, a few shallow scrapes from their earlier tussle, and the slow rhythm of his breath.

She let out a ragged laugh into the stormy air, the sound hollow against the rolling tide. Even as the pit filled with more rainwater, even as her body screamed for rest, she kept her gaze locked on him, burning the image of her captor into her mind’s eye.

The woman cried out in raw frustration at being ignored, lurching forward on instinct as though she’d forgotten her wrists and ankles were still bound. A single heave was all it took, and she toppled headlong into the shallow pit. The wet sand and cold water slapped against her face, driving the breath from her lungs.

Sputtering, she twisted onto her side, then braced herself against the ground with her shoulder, forcing her bound body over until she could lie on her back. The rain streamed down her brow, drenching her tangled hair and tracing rivulets across her cheeks. The pit was barely more than a basin carved by the tide, but the heavy storm clouds overhead threatened to fill it.

Each breath came ragged, tasting of salt and damp earth. Despite everything, her throat burned with thirst. Tilting her head back, she let the rainwater spill across her parted lips. Warm droplets slid over her tongue, offering a momentary relief from the dryness that clawed at her throat.

But after a few gulps, a chilling realization sank in.

If the downpour continued, the water could rise, and she was lying helpless at the bottom of a hollow. Was this how she’d meet her end? Submerged in a miserable hole on a nameless shore? The notion was absurd and terrifying, sparking something in her chest.

She started to laugh. A soft, breathless chuckle at first, then rising in volume, echoing in the pit’s shallow confines. It was an almost delirious sound. Part anguish, part madness, part sheer refusal to let despair overtake her. The muffled rumble of thunder overhead mocked her, but she laughed harder, pressing her skull into the gritty sand as the sky wept down on them both.