Amon grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder as he made his way through the secluded winter mountains. His hand rests right on the back of your thigh, below your bottom, his fingers gripping your skin.

He set you down in the snow, looking over your slightly scarred body, then up to your face. He crouched in front of you, taking your chin and whispering in your ear. You’re going to give me what I want, little bender. His voice is deep and raspy. With no hesitation. He looks you over.