Matthew tilted his head, watching me carefully. “Darling, the past two weeks have been stressful at best. It would do us good to take a moment and reacquaint ourselves with a normal routine before you throw yourself into work the day after your sister’s ceremony.”
My mind filled with an awful buzzing noise, the type that refused to abate no matter how much I wished it to. Trystan and my father looked away, which only fueled my frustration. Their lack of intervention told me they agreed with Matthew. Rolling my shoulders back, I slipped into a place of cold indifference. “I am not a woman in need of rescuing, Matthew. Please save your bullshit for someone else.” My leg vibrated wildly, and I was powerless against it. Matthew reached out a hand to stop it, or perhaps to reassure me, but panic surged to the surface, and I jerked away from his touch. “Do not touch me,” I said quietly. “I refuse to go from one territorial, overbearing man to another. Damien took everything away from me—my freedom, my comfort, and my emotional wellbeing. Remember that, Matthew.”
He looked as if he had been struck, and while I felt a twinge of guilt over my words, I couldn’t regret them. At that moment, I had been back in my bedroom, listening to Damien attempt to tell me what I could and couldn’t do—the way he broke me under Lachlan’s control.
The moment was broken as one of the cooks bustled in with a cart of delicious smelling food. My stomach growled, and I realized I hadn’t eaten since the early hours of the morning. I felt Matthew’s gaze on me as I stood and made my way to the small table being piled with food. I quickly grabbed a plate and filled it with a taste of everything. It wasn’t long before the others joined me. Their conversations filled the empty silence, but I attempted to focus on my own meal and not the alarm sounding off in my mind.
It was well into the night, perhaps early morning by the time Matthew, Trystan, and I excused ourselves. Matthew and I kept to ourselves, only holding polite conversation for the sake of our company. It wasn’t fair to him, I knew that, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t contain my fears from rearing their ugly heads. Dropping a kiss to my father’s forehead, I promised him I would see him in the morning for breakfast. He patted my hand tiredly, before mumbling his goodnight, and stumbling to his bed.
The hallways were shrouded in solemn darkness. The smell of smoke clung to our clothes, an ominous reminder of where we’d been only hours earlier. Matthew walked beside me as we meandered back to our rooms quietly. Both of us kept to ourselves, neither one of us daring to bring up the discontent flowing between us.
Matthew’s words flashed through my head repeatedly, a disturbing reminder of arguments with Damien in the past. While they were not similar, my frustration knew no difference. Damien had sought to shield me from the world by treating me as weak. Fragile. To him, I was nothing more than a beautiful bird to be kept in a gilded cage, and he’d shown his colors time and time again.
Matthew, for all his good intentions, failed to realize that his words had sent me drifting into a downward spiral, memories flashing before my eyes. Damien never treated me as an equal, always wanting to protect me even though I’d fought in wars right alongside him. He wanted me safely hidden away in a cage of his own making, but that wasn’t who I was. It never had been.
Matthew’s protectiveness came from a place of love, but I couldn’t deny the tingle of apprehension which ran down my back as he spoke. And I warred between feeling grateful someone cared for me so deeply, to being enraged that he felt the need to care so deeply. But perhaps my reaction was due to stress, for he had shown nothing but patience with me since we reunited. I’d given him more than his fair share of grief.
That was the funny thing about grief—it expected to be felt. No matter the time or place, it could destroy you until you had nothing left.
Mercifully, the walk was short, and the guards let us through the door with a quick nod. locking the door behind us. Solemn silence remained, but I’d noticed the way Matthew’s jaw remained clenched as if he would crumple underneath the uncertainty. He was undoubtedly waiting for the explosion he withstood at the cottage, but it would not come. Not tonight, at least. I was exhausted, hardly able to keep my eyes open as I made my way to the dressing table and began picking pins out of my hair one by one. Matthew swept past my seat to the bathing chamber, undoing the buttons of his shirt and exposing his bronze chest. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow, the veins along his arms displaying the restraint he was trying, and failing, to hide.
He turned, looking at me over his shoulder with a softness in his green eyes. Something in them broke me, the vulnerability and fear lurking in their shadows. I looked away quickly, shame setting in. I knew he would give me anything I asked, and something about the realization frightened me as much as it gave me solace. This wonderful man—he deserved so much more than I could give him, for there were only broken fragments of a soul left inside me.
Soft footsteps padded behind me, and I glanced up to watch his dark silhouette approach. He’d taken his shirt and shoes off. His breeches remained, although unbuttoned. My chest rose and fell, each breath deeper than the last, until he stood behind me. He observed me, his eyes taking in the trembling hands sitting in my lap. There was something about his presence that calmed me one moment, yet had the power to turn me into a muttering fool the next.
Matthew’s hand came up and touched the last remaining pin, pulling it free and letting my hair fall around me. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes trained on me. I closed my eyes, savoring the heat radiating from his body. Moving my hair over my shoulder, he leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to my flesh. My head tilted without thinking, giving him access to my neck as he continued his gentle assault. “Will you bathe with me?” he purred against my skin, sending goosebumps skittering across my body.
Try as I might to stay strong, it made no difference in the end. I was too weak to resist his gentle calm. Matthew held out his hand for me to take, a peace offering between lovers. I accepted it, pulling myself off the chair and following him into the bathing chamber.
He stopped at the edge of the tub, brushing a kiss to my knuckles before his hands slid to the waistband of his breeches. Our eyes met, the heat between us palpable as his pants hit the floor with a soft sound. He stood proudly, his heavy cock hanging between his legs. As my eyes traveled south, taking every inch of his body in, I could’ve sworn I saw a ghost of a smirk cross his face. With tentative movements, he sank deep into the water. A groan left his lips before he spread his arms around the edges, leaning his head back as he waited for me to make my move.
With a small tug, the dress pooled around my feet. He sucked in a breath as he studied me. I hadn’t been wearing undergarments, my nipples peaking at the chill air. “Gods above,” he said, shaking his head. “You wreck me completely, Eva. You’re devastating.”
And the way he studied me had me faltering, my knees threatening to fold. His love was so great and then there was me—a woman who had little left of herself to give.
Neither of us moved. Instead, watching the other with carefully curated stillness. My hands came up to hide my body, my disfigurement. Matthew shook his head. “Don’t do that,” he pleaded. “Do not be ashamed of yourself in my presence. I want to see you.”
His eyes trailed my figure, fighting hard not to linger on the scars adorning my skin as he went. I moved with heavy limbs until I bared myself and left my hands at my side. Though I tried to be proud and wear them unabashedly as proof of my survival, it was unsettling to know they would remain forever. It was difficult to remember what I’d been through, how I should have been proud. There were moments when I only saw them as signs of weakness instead.
I allowed myself to be taken. I had been beaten and tortured, my body ravaged to the point it was nearly unrepairable—not to mention the damage done to my mind. Once upon a time, I was cocky—some would argue to a fault—and overconfident in the things I did. But the woman I used to be showed no sign of returning.
She was the person Matthew fell in love with. Though he’d seen me struggle a time or two during our brief courting, I always came out stronger than before. But in the dungeons with Orion and Damien, when they had shown me the head of my mate and blocked our bond, I’d let myself become thoroughly despondent. There was no coming back from despair like that. Even now, I found my dreams haunted by those visions, woke up believing I was still in that hell. And in some ways, I was.
I was trapped inside a mind and body that no longer felt like my own—forever a burden on those around me. Because that’s what I was. Would I ever feel secure in myself again? Or feel as if I could stand on my own two feet without someone standing behind me? Matthew felt the need to keep a constant watch on me to ensure I would not erupt into a torrent of flames. It was hard not to notice the way he tensed as I displayed my power in my father’s room. It used to be a way to keep my power in check, to release the tension coiling in my muscles from holding myself back. Now it was treated as a potential threat.
I took a step back, my heart beating wildly out of control as panic set in. Matthew’s eyes widened as he leaned forward. “Eva—” he cautioned, but I shook my head.
“Don’t,” I whispered. Anxiety unfurled deep inside of me like a serpent ready to strike.
“Eva, please…” he pleaded. “Talk to me.”
But I shook my head, the words failing to come forth before I turned on my heel and ran from the room. His robe hung on a small hook next to the door. I grabbed it, hastily throwing it around my body. Matthew yelled from the bathing chamber. The sound of water sloshing onto the floor filled my ears, along with his pleas for me to stop, but I couldn’t. No matter what I did, I knew I had to keep going. Keep pushing.
Unlocking the door, I fled. The sentries’ protests joined in the cacophony of jumbled voices, but I tuned them out as much as I could. Tears came next, the rush of emotions sending them sliding down my cheeks. I didn’t know where to go, who to turn to, for there was nowhere I could go that Matthew couldn’t find me. And he would follow. I knew he would. Some sick part of me delighted in the fact, but another part of me was full of shame for shackling him to a woman like me.
Choked sobs echoed off the marble flooring, ringing back to those that were chasing me through the halls.Think, Eva. Think. Where? Where? Where?
And suddenly, a very horrible idea came to me. One I would most definitely regret, though it would be the last place anyone would look for me.
