Tamed by the Troll (The Perished Woods Book 1)

by Tracy Lauren

  “It is,” he confirms, struggling not to cough as sweat drips down his temple. The troll has to fight to finish his bowl and frankly I’m surprised he’s able to. When he’s done, he slides it over to me. “Clean up,” he orders, before lifting the heavy new latch and disappearing out the door, slamming it on his way out.

  I can’t help but feel like dinner was a bit anticlimactic. I had hoped it would spur another fight, but instead the troll only disappeared, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Oddly, I look forward to our verbal sparring, though I try not to think too much about why.

  He told me to clean and grudgingly I do, but I grumble as I work, doing as poor a job as I can, putting the pot away with food still clinging to it. This troll can go straight to hell if he thinks I’m going to be his dutiful slave.

  Mutinous thoughts cause me to startle when the door swings open. I see the beast is carrying a large bucket upon his return. He sets it down on the floor on the opposite end of the room as the fire and secures the latch. I’m curious about the bucket’s contents, but I don’t dare to ask.

  “Finished with dishes?” he questions.

  “I am.”

  “Good, it’s time for you to wash up. Do a better job than you did yesterday and get all that dirt out of your hair. You look like a forest hag.”

  Now I’m eyeing the bucket warily. Yesterday he used water from the spring that trickles in from the beside the door, but today he brought the bucket in from outside. I look over at him, but his back is to me and he’s setting by the fire, working on his mending once more.

  “There’s a washcloth there, if you need it.”

  “How thoughtful,” I mutter sarcastically.

  “It was, wasn’t it?” he muses.

  I remove my dress and plunge the washcloth into the water—then instantly withdraw my hand with a shriek.

  “Is there a problem?” the troll asks over his shoulder.

  “This water is like ice!”

  “Of course. I wanted to thank you for noticing that I like things hot. And since you didn’t have any dinner for yourself, I assume that means you like things cold. Now wash up.”

  “You’re a beast.”

  “I’m learning from the best,” he replies.

  Stubbornly, I wash myself, refusing to reveal how uncomfortable the icy stream water is. The worst part is plunging my head into the bucket to wash my hair. I dunk my hands in and scratch at my scalp, working the clinging dust free. The water’s so cold it feels like it’s burning. And though I wring my hair out, the frigid liquid still weaves its way down my body. My hands are left red from the cold and my skin is covered in goosebumps. I pull my dress on quickly to fend off the chill.

  “All done?” he asks.

  “All done,” I struggle to say through my chattering teeth.

  “Good. Time for bed then.” He picks up the worn blanket that he gave me last night and tosses it onto his bed, before stalking over to my bucket of bath water. I watch him in horror as he proceeds to empty it onto the fire. The coals hiss and the lights go out.

  “Sleep well, little one, and think about any lessons you might have learned today,” he tells me in the dark. With shuffling steps I go to the rug before the dying coals and try to soak up the last of their warmth, but the heat vanishes quickly and the night is a long one.

  Chapter 9

  Adelaide

  The next day is filled with more of the same.

  I make eggs again for breakfast, this time I leave all the shells in with them. The troll and I sit across from each other, stubbornly shoving crunching forkfuls into our mouths, glaring at one another. Each of us daring the other to snap first.

  “I like what you’ve done here, little one,” the troll bluffs. “Is this a human recipe?”

  “Just a little something special I came up with especially for you. I’ve always heard that trolls like garbage.”

  “That must be why I’m so fond of you,” he replies, though his yellow eyes are filled with a slow-burning hate.

  As I wash dishes, he catches me leaving rotting messes on the pans and orders me to re-clean everything in his cupboards, even the things I’ve never cooked with. Distrustfully, he parks himself in front of me with his feet up on the ottoman, inspecting everything I clean and often instructing me to re-wash even the cleanest of pans.

  “I want to see myself in them when you’re done.”

  “That’s a sight I wouldn’t recommend,” I mutter, and the troll delivers a swift kick to my ass. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s degrading nonetheless.

  “Agh!” I grunt in outrage.

  “Get back to work!” he shouts, meeting my anger with his own.

  The troll does a lot of his own muttering and cursing throughout the day, which is exactly what I want. The more I test him, the more I’m beginning to think he’s more bark than bite. Sure he’s punished me, but they’ve been punishments I can bear, and making him hate me might prove to be worth it. If I keep fighting he’ll eventually get tired of me and kick me out, then I can be on my way to Ellyn’s home in Pontheugh.

  At dinner I decide to up the ante.

  He watches me like a hawk as I cook, ensuring I don’t spike the food in some way. But I don’t. I make a perfectly delicious pot of stew. He’s sniffing the air and looking hopeful as I bring him his bowl. But just before I make it to the table, I stumble, stubbing my toe into the ground as I do. I go lurching forward and the bowl slips from my fingers, flying forward. The troll reaches out to break my fall, ignoring the boiling bowl of soup soaring toward his groin. It connects with my target and I tumble to the ground just as he lets out a bellow of pain. I clutch my toe and moan right along with him.

  “You witch!” he roars. “You insufferable pain in my ass!” Grabbing his crotch he paces around the room, desperate to regain his composure. I nurse my toe and try my best to look shocked.

  “What, I’m not allowed to trip?” I complain, rocking on the floor and nursing my “injured” toe.

  “Trip? Trip! Bullshit! You did that on purpose, you wretched excuse for a woman.”

  I rise to my feet, feigning a limp. “If you wanted a woman you should have found a willing one. You, sir, wanted a slave!”

  He marches to his bedside and tears away his soup-soiled loincloth, donning a simpler leather one without the fur and skull ornamentation. He rounds on me.

  “Show me your foot,” he demands roughly.

  I back away, really working my fake limp. “Get away from me, you oaf. I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

  “Like hell you don’t!” he says, hauling me up by my waist and dropping me down onto the table. My heart races in my chest.

  “Get your hands off me!” I scream bitterly, kicking my legs wildly as he tears the shoe from my foot. He holds me firmly in place and I pound my fists against his muscled back as he inspects my toes.

  “I should break every one of these,” he growls, wiggling each pink protrusion.

  “No!” I screech, worrying that I misread my captor and he truly is so vicious as to break my bones to prove a point.

  “There isn’t even a bruise!” he complains. “I’ll just have to see what I can do about that.”

  “No! Don’t hurt me!” I scream as he drags me off the table, kicking and screaming. The troll drops himself down into his chair and pulls me close so that I’m standing between his legs. He pins me there, between his knees with one strong hand against my back. Being this close to him feels strange, dangerous and exhilarating at the same time.

  “Five for lying. Five for wasting supplies. Five for never letting up,” he growls. “And TEN FOR TRYING TO SCALD MY DAMN COCK! How many is that?”

  When he bellows into my face, I remember that I’m in the lair of a monster, deep in the Perished Woods, the evil place my parents warned me about from the time that I could walk. His fangs look vicious and his yellow eyes are wild with rage. Try as I might, I cannot escape his hold on me. Muscles cord and twitch in his thick neck.
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  “I asked you a question, slave. How many is that?”

  “Twenty-five,” I stammer, staring into his chiseled face.

  “Twenty-five lashes.”

  “Lashes?” I whimper as he swings me over his knee, hiking my dress up around my waist. Before I have time to think, a wide troll hand connects firmly with my ass and I shriek in pain and outrage.

  “You’re going to spank me?” I ask, incredulous.

  He answers with another swift slap to my ass. I wail in response to it. Three more come in quick succession. Already I’m gasping for air and tears sting the corners of my eyes.

  “Say you’re sorry,” he commands.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t scald your cock clean off!” I rage at him. He freezes, and I crane my neck to get a view of his face. It softens for a moment and a rueful but amused smile splits across his wicked features. He grabs me by the hair and pulls my head back, not hard enough to hurt but enough to show me his measured strength.

  “We can do this all night if you want to,” he tells me. His voice is ragged and sultry and I can’t help but thrill a little in response to it, which only makes me angrier.

  “Go to hell!”

  SLAP!

  “Ugh!”

  “There is a fire in you I have no wish to extinguish, little one, but I’m growing tired of this game. It is time you learned your place.”

  “You can spank me all you want, troll. But my place will never be with you.”

  He growls at my defiance and his hand comes down on my backside, again and again. But the pain is nothing compared to my bitterness. I dig my nails into his strong thigh and grit my teeth, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing my screams. Biting back groans, I clench my eyes shut.

  Chapter 10

  Brom

  Quickly I begin to feel guilty for doling out physical punishment, especially when I see the first reddened imprint of my hand appear across Adelaide’s ass. I slow my assault and try to pay no mind to the naked and feminine curves of Adelaide’s body bent over on my lap. It seems wrong to admire her at a time like this, when she’s so vulnerable.

  I stifle a chuckle… Vulnerable? Adelaide doesn’t know the meaning of the word. No, in reality she’s not vulnerable. She is angry and fuming. Were she a witch her curses would have killed me by now. And this is the way I like her, fiery.

  When she groans and clenches onto my thigh I grow still, swallowing hard to regain my focus. I slap her across her ass again, pausing with my hand on her heated flesh. Only five more strikes and her punishment is done.

  I decide to take my time with these last ones, making them firm and lingering. She bites back a quick yelp with every hit and grips me even tighter. After the last one is finished, I rub her rounded cheeks, soothing them. Her backside is an angry shade of red, starkly contrasting with the rest of her milky flesh. I haul her up onto her feet and she teeters, supporting herself on my thigh. The feel of her hands so close to my cock is the last straw. I grow hard for the human. With my arm still locked around her waist, she does not back away. When she looks at me I nearly groan at the sight of her. Adelaide’s soft human lips are puffy and wet from biting into them and her cheeks are flushed a rosy shade.

  “Tell me you’re sorry,” I growl in a low voice. She purses her lips. I grab her chin and angle her face toward mine. “Say it.”

  “Never,” she replies firmly.

  I let out a low and rumbling chuckle and Adelaide’s eyes go wide. It was not the reaction she was expecting from me.

  “No, I suppose you won’t ever say it. Frustrating as you are, that’s what I like about you, little one.”

  “I guess a troll like you can’t be too picky,” she tells me, still riled.

  “A troll like me?” I ask, my hand still gripping her face. I hold her roughly, not ready to let her go.

  “I can’t imagine a hideous monster like you has many friends,” she answers hatefully.

  I scoff. “All you humans are alike. You think you’re so special. That you deserve to lord over the other beings of this realm. Do you know the last woman I had in my lair was a fae?”

  “Did you drag her in here as your slave as well?” Adelaide makes a big show of looking around for my ex-lover. “Seems like she was able to escape you, or maybe she killed herself as a last-ditch effort to rid herself of your presence.”

  “The fae came on her own volition. And you’d find her appraisal of me doesn’t quite match your own.”

  “My condolences go out to her family then. They must have been heartbroken.”

  “Heartbroken?”

  “When their daughter was kicked in the head by a donkey. It’s a sad thing, you know? Happened to a man in my village; he never was the same after that. ‘Simple-minded’ is what polite people said.”

  I chuckle again. “Humans.” I shake my head in disapproval. “Do you even know anything of the fae? They are stunning creatures, changing the very air around them. Charging it with their intensity.” I lean in close to Adelaide’s neck, inhaling her scent. Her breath hitches. She’s earthy and raw. I could breathe her in all day. “The fae smell like magic,” I tell Adelaide. “What do you think you smell like?”

  “I’d smell like shit if it kept you away from me,” she answers plainly, her brow raised.

  I let out a pained sigh. “Were you always such an awful thing? Or have I brought it out of you?”

  I’m surprised to see Adelaide actually considering my question before spitting an answer at me and I wonder if I’ve struck a nerve. After a while, she settles on a reply. “I’m sure you’d like to think you’re special, but I’m just an awful creature. As I’m sure my Aunt Celia would have attested. I have been since my parents died last year,” she admits. “Though you certainly don’t make my disposition any sweeter.”

  I move my hand to her hair, twining it gently in my fingers. “I could if you’d let me,” I tell her, my voice low.

  “What would you do? Call your fae here to put a spell on me?” she scoffs.

  “No, I don’t want her here. I cast her out.”

  “You? Cast out a fae?” Adelaide laughs, not hiding her disbelief.

  “She was fine in bed, but can you truly imagine me with someone like the fae? All sunshine and sparkles? I’ve already told you, little one, I prefer my woman with a sense of humor…and perhaps even a little fire.”

  Adelaide’s eyes narrow at me once more and she jerks her hair from my grasp.

  “I’m not your woman.”

  “Shame. You might make a better woman than a slave.”

  “If you believe that you’re as stupid as you look,” she spits.

  I’d laugh if I weren’t growing so tired of this endless fighting. “Give me one break, Adelaide. Just one.”

  “I owe you nothing.”

  “Nothing beside your life and virtue,” I remind her. “And the integrity of those toes. I should have broken every last one of them.”

  Adelaide chews on her lip, considering. “Fine. I agree to acknowledge that you may have saved me from the orcs—”

  “May have?”

  She cuts her eyes at me in that way that she has, telling me that I’m treading on thin ice.

  “Fine,” I agree. “I may or may not have saved you from the orcs…and?”

  “And…I acknowledge that if you were a truly terrible beast there are many things you could have done to me by now to prove it.”

  “Why, Adelaide, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I tease.

  “Take it or leave it,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “I’ll take it,” I say, releasing my hold on her, having finally regained control of my cock. “How’s your ass?”

  “Sore, no thanks to you. How’s your cock?” she challenges. It takes me a moment to realize she’s referring to the hot stew she spilled into my lap rather than the erection she inspired.

  “Sore as well. Is there anything you can do to soothe it for me?
” I tease, my hand going to my groin. Adelaide sputters. I have thrown her off her game. She has no retort ready and at her disposal. “Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “Let’s see what we can do for that sore ass of yours instead.”

  I bring her a rag dipped in the icy stream water and rung out. Shyly she retreats to a place by the fire, tucking it up under her skirts and holding it over her soreness. I clean up the spilled stew and serve the both of us fresh bowls that have had the chance to cool during Adelaide’s spanking.

  “If there’s one thing to be said about you, Adelaide, you are honest. You told me you would make a poor slave and damned if it isn’t the truth.”

  “I guess you have no choice but to set me free,” she says lightly, a smug smile on her face.

  “Not likely,” I laugh, finally settling down to eat my dinner. I shovel a spoonful into my mouth and am instantly shocked. “I take that back.”

  “What?”

  “You’re a liar. You told me you were a terrible cook and this stew is delicious.”

  “Pure luck. I’m sure you’ll change your mind come breakfast. I was planning to make you fish porridge.”

  I grimace at the thought. “You are a wicked thing, aren’t you? You’d make a master war strategist. Armies would bow to your godless plots.”

  I look up from my bowl to see a new sight—something that makes my cock harder than any spanking I could ever give the woman. When I look at Adelaide…I see she is smiling. She catches me looking at her and the smile vanishes as quickly as it came. Still, there’s no way to erase the image from my memory.

  Chapter 11

  Adelaide

  “Wake up, little one,” the troll says, nudging me. “Breakfast is hot.”

  “Breakfast? I thought I was supposed to cook?” I ask groggily as I sit up, stretching out my stiff muscles.

  “We were out of fish, so I took the liberty.”

  “Well, where’s the fun in that?” I complain.

  “You’ll just have to plan an especially evil dinner.”