AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Atlis
I paid the limo driver to take us to a chalet up north. He didn't make any complaints about receiving three times his normal wage. My guards are staying behind in the city, taking care of business without me. Hopefully, they won't fuck anything up while Zolina and I are up here. They’re all stupid, but I did shoot the last guy who turned on me. I think that might have finally gotten the message through to them. The first storm of the season is starting to produce flurries on the road, so we are slow going. Zolina hasn’t made any comments– she only took her mask off to stare out the window. Her tears are slowly falling from her pale face, the makeup about to ruin the fabric. I grab a tissue from a box the limo service offered and hand it to her.
“Before your mascara gets on that beautiful dress,” I tell her.
Without talking, she takes it rudely from my outstretched hand and dabs at her face. Zolina doesn't even turn her head towards me– just continues staring into the distance.
She is angry and hurt. I can empathize with that. If my father had promised me to someone while I was still in the womb, I would also be livid.
I guess we’ll finish the multiple-hour ride without speaking. Our handcuffed hands sit on the armrest that folds out from the middle seat. The sound of tires crunching over the freshly fallen snow is louder than any other sound present. A fine dusting covers the roadway and the chalet when we finally arrive.
I remove my keys from my pocket, fumbling through until I find the specific one I need.
“You have nowhere to go, no one to run to. You can try, but I will find you. And when I do, I'll make you love every second of every day.” I unlock the cuffs from both of our hands after we exit the limo. I discard them on the frozen ground, leaving the cuffs behind in the snow. I stalk my way through the snowy path to the front of the chalet as the driver takes off back to the city, leaving the two of us alone together. Keys still in hand, I unlock the door, leaving it open for Zolina to find her way inside.
My father brought Kias and me out this way when we were still little– it’s his safe house. It's tucked in the woods so well that most people can't even find the road, let alone the house. I am still surprised the limo made it up the hill. The chalet has log cabin siding, brand-new furniture and appliances, and a hot tub out back.
Zolina follows me into the house and shuts the door, ending our journey in the kitchen. When you enter, there is a ‘drop-zone’, the kitchen and stairs to your left, and the living room to your right. It's a pretty simple layout and kind of small, but still has enough room to fit four or five people for a long period of time without feeling the need to kill each other.
“I have so many questions, Atlis. I don't even know where to begin. Honestly, I'm too pissed to talk to you at the moment. So, for now, I'd just like to sleep.”
“You need to eat before you go to bed. Skipping meals is unhealthy,” I reply nonchalantly while rummaging through the fridge. I had the maid, who my father keeps employed for his house, come up around the same time as the party to stock the kitchen. We have enough food to feed a small army, even though I never eat very much.
“If skipping meals is unhealthy, what about tricking someone into marriage? On their birthday. In front of everyone. Where is Kias? Why did my father consent to this? Why did no one fucking tell me?!” Her voice rises an octave every time she asks another question. I stare at her with a blank expression on my face. Does she have to ask so many questions?
“Due time, Pet. Due time. Now eat.” I drop a small surprise into her yogurt and mix it with my finger before handing it over. I toss it onto the counter, along with an apple and a granola bar. It should be enough to hold her over for the night. The sky is starting to change colors, and I don't want to cook. Although, I have half a mind to make Zolina cook. She would have to either stay in her pretty white dress or get naked. I'm okay with either option.
I stick my finger into my mouth, sucking it seductively as I stare at her, trapped behind mental images and waiting for a reply.
“I'll do it, only because I didn't get to have dinner at my own party-”
“Wedding,” I correct her, my tone flat and edgeless. I raise an eyebrow, watching her try to open the granola bar in frustration. I don’t think the long, fake white nails on her hands are helping. “Look, I'm not a nice person. I'm not a sweet man like my brother. I'm honest, ruthless, and murderous. But I’ll never make fun of you when it matters. Don’t be afraid of me, Zolina. I’m not the bad guy here. Get a good night's rest, and we will talk in the morning.”
“Fine.”
“Fine. And maybe I'll tease you a little bit, in more ways than one. Especially if you can't even open a package of food,” I reply, smirking and putting my hand out, waiting for her to give up on her struggle. I want to continue watching the expressions she makes while angry. They are kind of cute. The thoughts are interrupted once she’s had enough, and she drops it into my hand. Using my teeth, I open the granola and hand it back to her. “The bedroom is upstairs, second door on the right. I'll be on the couch.”
“Whatever.” She storms off with her food, heading to the bedroom.
~
It’s been a couple of hours since Zolina went upstairs to bed. I sit on the couch in silence, watching the snowflakes fall to the ground outside the glass French doors. The panes are framed in cherry wood, and frost creeps up each square, threatening our warmth. Without TV or any other main sources of entertainment, all I can do is watch the snow. My mother always used to tell me, “A watched pot never boils,” but I don't quite know if that applies to this situation. If it did, maybe the snowfall would slow. I straighten my makeshift bed with a couch pillow and a quilt before starting a fire.
I wonder how Zolina got out of that Chinese finger-trap of a dress. There is no way she could have gotten all of those intricate buttons undone without help. If she did, I want to know how. I didn't leave any scissors in the room last time I was here, but maybe my father had. Normally, I’d cut the dress off a woman, but not this one. Just the fabric must have cost Mr. Connors a few grand.
I decide to be a good husband and check on her. Maybe she decided to wait and see what I was going to do. It is our wedding night, after all. I stand up from the couch and make my way out of the room and up the stairs. I hover in front of the wooden door, listening for the sounds of her sweet tears, but I hear nothing. I'm not sure if she is a loud or a quiet crier, but I will find out soon. Slowly, I turn the handle and push open the door, creeping into the room.
Zolina is sprawled out on the bed, lying on her stomach. Her still-dressed body is halfway on the mattress and crooked. The shoes have slipped off her feet and onto the floor, long white hair spread across her back, her breathing slow and consistent.
“Oh, beautiful,” I whisper, not wanting to wake her. I round the bed and slowly crawl up next to her, placing my knees at her side. I lower my hands, running them across the fabric from her neck to the swell of her ass. She doesn’t so much as twitch, having been knocked out cold from the anxiety medication I put in her yogurt before handing it to her. I'm surprised I haven't fallen asleep yet– it should have knocked me out cold. Even the little taste that I had should have made me at least somewhat sleepy. Maybe she is just dead tired.
Each button I pry open sticks to the tips of my calloused fingers, one by one. My hands are steady as I slowly undress this beautiful goddess. When I finish, I slide my arms underneath hers, flipping her over and pulling her body up the bed. Once she is correctly positioned, I pluck each arm from the dress, revealing her naked torso. My inked hands roam over her mountainous chest, palming each breast. Savoring the way her nipples form stiff peaks, I close my eyes for a brief moment, cataloging the feeling. She has to be at least a double D, from what I imagine. My hands have measured many breasts after my sexual awakening due to Lolli’s tits, not that I did anything with her, but my love of breasts comes from seeing her half-naked.
I crawl off the bed, lean over, and tuck my hands beneath the dress's edge at her hips. I need this dress off of her. I want to see the way her body has formed into a woman; see the way her curves accentuate her body. I eliminate the cloth from her, unveiling the luscious figure that’s been hidden under layers all night. She lays bare other than her white lace panties. My hands itch to touch her skin while my face craves to be smothered by her thighs. I could die like that, happy and at peace between her legs.
I step away to the closet, grab a hanger, and hang the dress on the door. When she wakes up, I want her to realize that I was the one who took the dress off and didn’t ruin it. Hopefully, she will understand and won't be too upset. We might need it later.
Her body calls to me. I wander back to the bed, crawling up onto it once more. I know I can’t sleep here because once she wakes, I won’t be able to stop her from hitting me. I’ve never let a woman attack me before, but she is my wife now, not a stranger.
