Who is that? His face takes shape before me.The strong jaw, the sharp nose, the beautiful, deadly, intoxicating eyes.
I know it. I’d know that face anywhere.
I’ve seen that face in my dreams for as long as I can remember.
“Kian,” I gasp, reaching out for the man pressing his lips to mine. “Kian…”
I’m about to say his name again when strong palms smash down on my ribcage. Briny water gushes out of me and I start to cough hard. I’m forced upright by unseen hands as more water erupts from my mouth.
Everything is murky and shaky, but as the seconds pass by, the world starts to resolve itself into place. My vision comes into focus. Kian’s face dissolves.
It’s not him after all. It was never him.
Rokiades’s hawkish features come into view.
“No…”
This isn’t heaven. I didn’t die. They dragged me back out from the water and made sure this nightmare lasts at least a little longer.
My head hangs limp on my chest as I’m hauled onto my feet and taken below deck. “Watch her!” I hear Rokiades command. “Make sure she’s properly restrained and someone is with her at all times. We can’t afford to lose the asset.”
The asset. I suppose that’s what I’ve been all along.My safety is only relevant so long as I’m useful.Once that use has been served, I will only be a liability.A nuisance.
My eyelids are heavy. I don’t fight them this time. I welcome the darkness, the bliss of unconsciousness. I feel so damn tired that I long for numbness.
And I get exactly that.
* * *
But even when the darkness eats me up again, I have dreams. Because of course I do. Even in sleep, I can’t fully escape the nightmare my life is. It’s a constant horror show whether I’m asleep or awake.
In one dream, I can see Kian far off in the distance, but he can’t reach me. I’m screaming for him, but no matter how fast he runs, he never seems to get any closer. When I turn, my brother is standing next to me. It’s only when I look down at myself that I realize he’s stabbed me in the stomach and I’m bleeding out. Rokiades is on his knees in front of me, and he’s drinking the blood pouring out of my slashed abdomen.
It’s disgusting. I tear my eyes open.
But there’s no respite. There’s no escape. It doesn’t matter whether I’m dreaming or not. I can’t outrun them all.
Awake again in the real world, I find myself tied to a massive four-poster bed with unnecessarily frilly covers that prick my skin. Rokiades is sitting on a chair to the right, his eyes trained on me with an unreadable expression. His eyes track my body, lingering on my breasts before landing on my face.
“This doesn’t have to be hard, you know,” he remarks when he sees that I’m up. “I can be merciful. Even kind.”
I scoff. “So you’re delusional as well as cruel.”
He ignores me. “As my wife, you would have nothing but the best. You would live in luxury, wear the finest clothes, own the most expensive jewelry.”
“What makes you think I care about any of that?”
“I thought you were smart.”
“Smart enough to know what I don’t want,” I tell him. “And I don’t want you.”
“Then I suggest you change your mind,” he says sharply. “Or else prepare yourself for a hard life.”
I cringe at the threat. For some reason, it scares me more now as I stare at the gaudy loudness of the room I’m trapped in. This place is hideous. A fitting match for its owner. Everything is gilded and contoured, like he can hide the ugliness of who he is behind ostentatiousness.
Rokiades gets up and moves closer to the bed. I tense, bracing myself for whatever hell he’s going to unleash on me. When he leans in, I shrink back.
“I can be tender, Renata,” he murmurs.