He grunts, looking anywhere but at me. Which doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I’d rather him never look my way again; his face annoys me. Especially when his dimple deepens against his cheek and his lips do this curling up thing whenever I talk.
But as I follow where his eyes land, my breathing hitches as I hold in the raging anger burning within me. I feel at any minute I might explode. The room is dimly lit, with a small lantern along the wall, a single cot pushed against one wall, and chains hanging from hooks on the other.
Are the chains for me?
A small window high above us lets in warm beams of light, illuminating the claw marks with dried blood etched into the walls.
“Where the hell am I?” My nose wrinkles from the smell. I notice the outline of him making his way over to me. The sharp echoes of his boots against stone reverberate through the empty chamber, causing my body to flinch with each slow step he takes.
One. Two. Three.
Three steps before he is right in front of me. I watch as he squats down, his strong arms wrapping around my limp body and pulling me upright. The roughness of his touch makes my skin crawl. His finger rubs gently along my forehead and down my cheek, pushing away my hair. His shoulders seem to strain against the fabric of his loose, cream shirt with each movement he makes. The top few buttons are undone, revealing a glimpse of a chiseled chest and defined abs. But what I notice are the scars that seem freshly healed against his skin. I glance down to his boots, scuffed from years of wear, that stretch up to his knees.
Men in Seattle don’t dress this way.
I shiver under his touch, my body responding to the uncertainty of what he might do. He has full control.He knows I am not from here; I can tell by the way he stares at me. He knew the moment he saw me.
His hand trails down my neck and across the top of my sports bra, causing me to hold in my breath. He leans in closer, our noses almost touching as his emerald eyes are mixed with a light blue from the sun's rays, staying fixed on mine.
His hands leisurely make their way down to my waist as he gradually unties my sweater, slowly removing it from around my body and throwing it to the ground beside me. His breath tickles my lips, and I brace myself. If I speak, I may go unconscious again.
I must be smart with my next move.
He leans in closer, our noses now touching, and my eyes flicker from his eyes to the scar on his lip as the adrenaline in my body bounces around. I bite the inside of my cheeks.
Do notmove. Do notbreathe.
If my hands were untied, I’d push this man away from my face and rush out the door.
His warm breath beats against my face, his burnt char scent lingering in the small space between us. His hands are firmly planted on either side of me, caging me in, his muscular arms flexing as he leans closer. I'm pressed against the hard cot, unable to move away from his intense gaze. I am unable to escape.
I am trapped. Completely screwed.
He holds his gaze on mine while our breathing is steady, in sync with each other as I force the fear away.
“I said, shut the hell up.” He pushes my head back, making me fall backwards on the cot, and I just let out a screeching yell, shaking my body like a child throwing a tantrum.
“What the hell have I done to you?!” I wiggle my body, using my elbows to sit me upright again.
His hand is against the golden doorknob. “Prince Florian will be with you soon.”
His eyes meet mine once more, and then he walks out, leaving me alone in this cold, empty chamber.
“Prince?” I scream at him.
“What damn Prince?!”
Chapter 3
“The Deskyiara bloodline shall not love, but follow the footsteps of the Deskyiara before them. They must listen to the ways the Deskyiaras have been trained for centuries in order to keep the connection with the Gods.” - Book of Azure
BRANCHES CLAW AT THE OUTSIDE, almost begging to escape the scorching heat.
Tiny drops of water flow around the indentations and soak into the cracks off the broken walls, as if the chamber I am stuck in is sweating itself. The brick walls seem just as parched as I am, if not more, by the amount of water that evaporates into steam.
Hours must have passed. The light in the room has faded away as the window brings in less of the burning star. My body aches from the inside out. The bones between my shoulder blades scream in pain. I tilt my head side to side, trying to release thetension in my neck that radiates pain down my back. My muscles tense with each small movement I make, a result from my arms not being able to stretch around. I have tried repeatedly to untie my hands so I can break free, but it’s useless. Nothing can help slice this rope.
I’m screwed.
