The reminder of his sire stung, especially from her. Brand hoped he kept the pain hidden. “Not so well. If you recall, I killed him.”

“He drove you to it.” She stepped closer, until she stood a scant few inches away.

The snarl of her emotions pressed in on him. Brand shuddered before he could stop himself. “Stay away from me.”

Her eyes held a fierce gleam. “Or what?”

He lifted his hand to her throat and tightened his fingers a fraction. “Or I will choke the life from your perverse throat.”

Her lips spread into a slow, toothy grin. “I know you better than that.” She leaned against his chest and looked up into his face. “You have endured so many hours of torture at my hands, and yet, I am still alive.”

After the cruelty his sire had put her through, he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her, no matter what she did to him. His wolf didn’t share his reservations, though. He stared at his fingers against her pale throat. “I should let the wolf end you.”

Her eyes narrowed as if she appraised him for slaughter. “How poorly you understand yourself.” She turned away and, muttering to herself, searched through the mess that cluttered the low table.

Loki’s teeth, but she was infuriating. He realized after watching her for a few seconds that he had no idea what he was still doing there. She had no intention of telling him where Arn was, if she even knew. Irritated for being drawn in by her manipulations, he again turned to go.

“You’ll want to see this.” When he looked back, she held a bloodied knife in her hand. She offered him the handle. Dark blood from the blade smeared her fingers, and she raised her hand to her lips. She licked the blood with exaggerated care. “I think you know the vintage.”

He didn’t have to lift the knife to identify the owner of the blood, despite the horror of smells crowding the room. He knew the scent almost as well as he knew his own—Alice. “If you’ve hurt her, you miserable bitch…”

She cut him off, her tone rough with scorn. “Of course I’ve hurt her. How do you think her blood got on the knife? Whether she gets hurt more is your decision.” Her predatory grin widened.

He swallowed, almost choking on bile roiling in his stomach. “Fine, I’ll do whatever you want.”

Ingrid made a murmur of approval. “That’s right, my sweet lamb, you will. First, you will apologize for calling me a bitch. Then, you will kneel before me.”

He spoke between clenched teeth, “I meant no offense.” It took a moment to get his legs working, but he managed to stagger forward one step and drop to his knees without falling over.

“Look at me, sweet dear,” she said in a cooing tone.

Hating her, himself, and every member of their gods-forsaken race, he lifted his eyes from the floor.

She reached down, smearing Alice’s blood over his cheek as she caressed him. “This is why mankind glories in subjugating the wild. To feel the ferocity of nature bent to your will is the most thrilling sensation.” Her parted lips drew back into a satisfied smile as her nails scored his cheek.

She pushed with her power, trying to force her emotions on him, but his barriers held.

After several attempts, she gave up with a sigh. “This would be easier if you would allow me to enthrall you.”

Brand remembered the taste of her blood, winterberries and fertile earth. There had been a time when he would have done anything for her. He shook his head.

Her mouth twisted into a petulant frown. “Before I tell you where your pet can be found, I will have your word that you will do as I command for what remains of this full moon.” When he hesitated, she slapped him. Alice’s blood splattered over his face from the impact.

“You have my word of honor that I will do your bidding for the duration of the full moon.”

She smoothed his hair fondly. “Arnbjörn came to me to ask my aid in acquiring her. Knowing your affection for the sniveling girl, I offered to help him in order to gain your attention.”

The vile bitch had sold Alice off to bring him to heel. He growled, the anger creeping up his chest and into his throat. He bolted to his feet before he could stop himself.

“Save your strength, Black Sword. You will fight under the full moon.” She looked up at the ceiling of the cabin with a frown of concentration. “Almost time, remove your shirt.”

Trying to clear his mind, he unbuttoned his shirt with numb fingers. Thoughts of what Arn could be doing to Alice made the rage difficult to control. His breath rasped through his teeth.

Ingrid appraised him as he let the shirt drop from his shoulders. Her gaze floated over his torso, and her tongue poked from between her lips as she ran it over the edges of her teeth. He felt the tendrils of her seduction trying to work at him again, but she gave up soon after. “When did you stop desiring me?” Her voice was soft, almost sad.

Brand ignored the question, turning his face away from her. The days when he would have thought her enticing were long gone. She was diseased, like a tree rotting from the inside out.

With a sigh, Ingrid went to the table once more and returned with a silver torc worked with runic designs. She twisted the heavy circle of metal in a complex pattern until it opened.

She gestured for him to lean forward, but he didn’t comply. With a frown, she reached up and cinched the adornment around his neck with another series of twists. The fit was snug. She slid her fingers beneath it and tugged sharply. Still, he refused to bend toward her.

She released her hold on the torc with a snarl. “Run west for thirty minutes and you will find your Alice.”

He bolted out of the cabin.