The men cheered and whistled in agreement.

“Momentarily, I’ll be using your wee cunt quite thoroughly against this wall.” Madwulf pawed between my legs, beneath the shirt, skin against skin. “You’re going to cry, but dinna fash yourself about that. I want your tears, daughter of Edric.”

“No.” A hot ember formed in my throat, and I squirmed helplessly. “Not this. I’ll give you something else. Anything. Name it.”

“This is all you have to give, lassie.” He dug a thick finger into my dry flesh and thrust.

My entire body cringed and bucked, but there was nowhere to go. Too many hands held me in place. Too many mouths panting against my face. The reek of rotten teeth made my gut turn.

“But I’m nae a selfish man.” He stabbed deeper, scraping broken fingernails along my insides. “I always leave a wee bit of something to share with my laddies, and they prefer it to still be a-kickin’.”

“I don’t need her kicking, Captain, or breathing,” a voice shouted from the crowd. “Just so long as I get me some relief in one of them holes.”

Laughter erupted as the knaves shoved one another in excitement.

My joints locked to the point of pain, and tears rose, burning the back of my throat. But I kept it at bay and held Madwulf’s gaze, my eyes dry and stony.

His cock was out, the bulbous head of it ramming against my naked thigh and drooling thick beads of slime. The thought of having that thing inside me dropped a hot, jagged rock in my stomach.

There was no stopping this. Even if I possessed the intelligence to talk my way out of it, Madwulf wasn’t a person who could be reasoned with. All I had left was my anger, and I let it burn me up from the inside out.

“What a strong, fearsome man you are.” I chewed each word and spat it between my teeth. “Forcing your lust upon a woman while she’s held down by forty scoundrels. Praise be to God for big, tough Madwulf MacNally. Your kin must be proud.”

With his chest so close to my mouth, I jerked forward and bit down on a hunk of sweat-slick flesh. Hard enough to make him bleed.

His hand swung, colliding with my cheekbone, as he roared with laughter.

I tasted blood, from the bite, from the strike of his fist. Instead of swallowing it, I worked it around with my saliva and spat the whole mouthful at his face.

It landed on the corner of his lips, clinging to the wiry hairs of his red beard. A depraved smile contorted his expression, and his tongue snaked out, licking the blood-tinged spittle.

Then he returned to my bone-dry flesh and the finger that he was jamming harder and faster inside me.