Emberwood the die is cast, pt.2

There was nothing she could do but wait. It was more excruciating than being in a true battle; she wanted to thrash wildly, to escape his grip and snap her teeth in his face. To tear and tear and tear until there was nothing left but a bloody pulp where his face once sat.

But she couldn't do that. She had to sit and keep herself calm until his conscience took over - if that were possible. She sucked in another breath, feeling a bit light-headed from the stress and the tightness upon her neck. Let me go. Her voice held no pleading tone, nor command, and it was dwarfed by the sound of her next inhalation. I will not fight you.

Until she had recovered from this ridiculous situation. To let her rage flow freely would be the greatest gift he could give - but not one he would likely relinquish without some urging.