This is not the best day of my life, Matheus thought. He gave the ropes an experimental tug. His arms stretched over his head; his toes scraped over the ground. Matheus admitted that he had fantasized about being tied up, but not like this. He expected a bed, a safe word, and not so much threat of imminent torture and death. The difference came down to the balance of control. Matheus had none; the hunters had it all. He exhaled, opening his mouth wide to crack his jaw. At least the gag was gone.
“What’s your name?” The older hunter stood in front of Matheus, his hands clasped behind his back. Flames silhouetted his body, the fire flickering high enough to dwarf the men gathered around it. They wanted Quin to find them.
“What’s yours?” Matheus asked. The words felt jagged in his mouth.
“Linken.” The man circled Matheus, sending him swinging with a shove. He did this several times, accompanied by a low, harsh laughter.