Page 21 of Mated to Monsters
I have been concerned about everyone else for so long, I have forgotten what is like to fear for my own life. This creature, this demon, is persistent in reminding me. I recall his sharp teeth at my throat and the pressure of his hand against my chest.
Still, though, there’s an undeniable heat growing in me.
I resent it as I resent him, shooting him a hateful look as he scratches away at a document in front of him. One of many. He seems to have grown bored of me, irreverent to the fact that I am still here, stuck in this dreary room with him.
He simply doesn’t care.
We are an acquisition for his King, and nothing more. We are parcels to be documented and traded without say of our own future. And my sister is out there, somewhere, facing it all alone. Angry tears come. They seem to be the only kind I can spare today. I press them away with a palm and bite my lip until it hurts.
Damn you, I think, glaring up at him in the silence.
His quill flits over the page without slowing, all of his concentration homed in on whatever ridiculous work he’s conducting.
This room is suffocating, and it’s not just him.
It’s me.
Despite everything, he made my heart race. That heat chased through my core when I thought he might kiss me, even though his lips dripped with poison. I could not be attracted to such a monster. It’s impossible, and still, here I am.
Perhaps it is why I rail so hard against him. He pursued me tirelessly with his massive great sword, and then dragged me through the halls of this miserable dungeon to shame me into obedience. I have every reason to despise this bastard, but instead I’m troubled.
I shouldn’t feel this way.
I have to stifle this feeling before it becomes a monster of its own. One I cannot ever hope to reason with. I look at him again, studying his high cheekbones and severe expression, his pale face haloed in dark hair that sits loosely over his broad shoulders. He has the long ears of an elf but they’re tipped with ebony, and could not be confused.
He is fastidiously stern. That seems to be his neutral.
He must hate his job, I think, and almost find humor in the notion. But the walls of this place are steeped in misery, blunting any real amusement I might feel. Down on Protheka, I may have been fooled by the good weather and fresh breeze of the settlement. Here, there is no doubt I am a slave, and that I have no purpose but what they decide for me.
I rake my hands through my hair again and groan.
He ignores me, but his quill catches for the briefest moment.
There’s power in making him stumble. I can’t smile, exactly, but the smallest victory tastes sweet compared to the bitter truth of wearing his chains. I dare to glance over at him from underneath my lashes. He doesn’t seem to have looked up, but his black brow is furrowed now in a furious attempt to concentrate.
In a sudden motion, he pushes the page aside and grabs another one, continuing his mad scrawl. I notice that beyond him, against the tall stone wall, rests that massive sword he was wielding before in Jurtil. I would have no hope in lifting it. That would take far more strength that I have ever possessed. But he managed it with ease, taking down a quarter of a building in a single swing.
I’d be an idiot to annoy him.
And an idiot, I must be. I stand abruptly, tired of this power play of his. “How dare you tell me how to act,” I say, letting the words linger between us.
As I hoped, his quill freezes over the page, though he doesn’t look up. “I believe a gag will suit you well,” he concludes, continuing to write as if neither of us had spoken.
I storm forward and smack my hands on the desk, sufficiently jarring him from his work. He slams his quill down beneath a powerful palm, splatting ink all over his spidery writing, then straightens to meet my gaze, his white eyes bright with hateful glee. I’ve already forgotten how overwhelming his attention is, but I only falter for a second. “I don’t think you heard me,” I speak low, so that his ears are forced to perk up. “I do not belong to you, and you will not tell me what to do or how to act.”
His smile spreads into a grin, flashing those savage teeth. Then, he stands, making the table shudder as he rises to his full height. Even from across the table, I realize he’s taller than I remember, but I hold myself rigid in defiance.
That voice of his cuts through me. “Give me an excuse to punish you, human.”
As I open my mouth to speak, he’s already gathered me up by my collar and dragged me over the desk so I get an up close view of his snarl. I brace myself, covering my face with an elbow as my feet dangle in the air.
His hot breath washes over me. “You just don’t know when to give up.”
“I could say the same,” I dare tell him, knowing how close he is to eating me himself. “This is all your fault.” When he doesn’t respond, I look up into his pale eyes, staring into the face of murder incarnate. If this is my last moment alive, I might as well make the most of it. “If you had just left me and my sister alone, we wouldn’t be here. And she wouldn’t have gotten lost.”
Something changes in his expression, something I can hardly define, but it softens the muscled edges of his jaw, and the skin around his eyes. It disappears for a hard edged sneer as soon as he seems to realize something. “You could not run from me on Protheka, and you cannot run from me here. You should learn to submit to your betters.”
“I would,” I say, my face burning up with quiet rage, “but I have not found them, yet.”