“There you are, my wife,” I growl, my voice is low and raspy, and I see her shudder as the last words roll off my tongue. The blond man looks at me in surprise before looking back at Eliane.
“You are married?” he gasps.
“Apparently I am.” She gives him a teasing smile before looking at me confused and strict. I push him away.
“Didn’t you hear me right or what?” I snap. The man doesn’t move away, and my fist is ready to punch. I push him backwards with my other hand before throwing out a punch. His head smashes into the other direction and blood starts to stream from his nose.
Good.
The smell of metal fills my nose as he backs off.
“Fucking asshole. Everybody is right. You really are a monster of a prince.” He spit, blood dripping on the floor. I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. I grab Eliane’s arm, dragging her deeper onto the dance floor. I wrap her arms around my neck. She looks at me with eyes wide.
“You didn’t need to punch him, you know,”she teases, but her words seem stuck in her throat. And I know she says it only in our mind, because she doesn’t mean it. Her eyes all filled with lust. I know she has no experience. She has no experience with a man.
And manes would I like to be her first. But not here. Not with people. Not until I am a hundred percent sure she wants it. I curl my toes and shake the feeling away.
“It appeared I did,”I growl. “He didn’t get the message the first time.”I dance with her slowly but avoid eye contact. Her words land hard.
“So wife, huh?”she breathes out, this cute pink blush raising on her face. My gaze finds hers. I did call her that indeed. Maybe kissing wouldn’t be that strange of a first step at all.
But no, I decide on calling her my wife.
Stupid.
I am so fucking stupid.
“I did what I had to do to get that pervert away. You know the only thing he wanted to do was get in your pants, right?”
She shakes her head in disagreement, her eyes sharpening with confusion.
“No, you are wrong, he was just being nice,” she reacts, switching back to normal talking in surprise. Her voice sounds high, and her plump lips stay a bit open.
Stupid, inexperienced, little girl.
Woman.
“Every man on the square has given you the fuck me eyes. You really haven’t noticed?” I snap. She looks over my shoulder, scanning the crowd and her face turns red as a tomato.
“Oh,” she whispers.
“Yes oh,” I growl. A jealous feeling creeping up my chest again, and I let my hands rest on her hips. I am still a man. A possessive one.
“I hate you,” she snaps, narrowing her eyes.
Her blush tells me otherwise.
“Hate me all you want, but let’s go,” I huff, my hand slipping of her soft hip.
Well, goodness. This is going to be loads of fun.
I drag her arm as we need to get through the crowd. I tell myself I hold her because I don’t want to wait, but I know that it is because I want to touch her so badly. I hate myself for it.
The address teller comes into view. Or I assume it is. In front of us is a shop with glass windows and house numbers covering the door. A map hangs behind the windows and an old lady stands inside. She has big round glasses, and her crazy gray afro hair is put up in a loose bun. Eliane pushes the door open, the bell rings and the ringing sound alerts the old woman. Her skin is dark like chocolate, but her blue eyes are the complete opposite. The thick round glasses make her eyes look huge and she hops towards us. Her clothes are dark green and blue, and she has a long diamond necklace around her neck. She looks a bit crazy, but whatever. Who isn’t a bit crazy these days?
“How can I help this lovely couple?” she sings out. Narrowing her eyes as she scans our faces. Her wrinkled hands remind me of those of a witch, even though they don’t seem to exist, not anymore at least. Her hands grab Eliane’s face as she studies her. Eliane stands frozen to the spot. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?” she murmurs, before letting go of her face. A bead of sweat dripsdown in Eliane’s eyebrow. “I would swear I have seen you two somewhere before.” She sighs, browsing through the pages of her address book I assume. I let out a cough.
“That might be possible.”
