by Carly Fall
As the time drew near for her to wed, the light within her eyes slowly dimmed, and it terrified him that it would eventually burn out and leave nothing but a shell of the woman he knew.
Agnes had proven to be true to her word to help them. She’d taken it upon herself to ensconce them in Bella’s chamber and stand guard at the door, informing all who approached it that the princess did not wish to be disturbed as she prepared for her wedding day. This had led to many heated arguments between Agnes and the other servants, but the woman fiercely protected her princess and never backed down.
Bella did not shed any more tears. She lay in his arms as they talked in hushed whispers, proclaiming their eternal love for each other. They physically joined as often as possible, their lovemaking slow and sweet, as if they could stop the march of time with gentle caresses and tender kisses.
On the rare occasion that he found himself alone, Jayden considered taking his own life after she’d left. He couldn’t imagine going on without her, but he’d also heard rumbles of a battle brewing between this kingdom and that of Ibering to the south. He’d be needed if war ensued; mayhap, that would be a good thing. A fight would most certainly take his attention away from the horrendous heartache assaulting him.
In the early morning hours of her wedding day, he lay in her bed. They had stayed awake all night and spoiled many cloths. Although he’d been diligent to avoid spilling inside of her, he sometimes wondered if their time together would produce a babe. It would be assumed that Ulric had fathered it, but it gave him pleasure to think of Arabella carrying his child, no one knowing the truth save the two of them.
He supposed he should feel guilt for such thoughts, and for ruining another man’s bride, but he had no regrets. In fact, he’d wished death on Ulric more than once, hoping the prince would meet some violent end before this day. However, her father would only wed her to someone else, and any time they could gain would be far too short.
He would likely burn in Hell for such considerations, but he could not help the way he felt. Arabella should have been his, and mayhap, in another time and place and under different circumstances, that might have been possible.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and Agnes’ voice carried through. “It is time, Your Grace.”
Arabella grasped his face in her palms. “Please, never forget me or what we have shared. Always know that you have my heart. No one else will ever be able to claim it, Jayden. Although I marry another today, I am leaving it with you.”
He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Aye. And I leave mine with you, Arabella.”
The knock sounded at the door again, and Agnes slipped in, keeping her back to them. “Your bath will arrive soon, and I must get you washed and dressed, Princess. Your knight must leave.”
He stood on rickety legs and pulled on his breeches and tunic, never taking his gaze from the princess. She stared at him from the bed, her black hair a tangled mess around her face and bare shoulders. Her dark gaze bore into him, and he could physically feel the sadness radiating from her, like a fist to his gut.
With every ounce of his will, he forced himself to walk to the door. Turning back, he found her eyes again.
There were no further words to be said, and he shut his lids for a brief moment.
“Goodbye, my love,” she whispered.
At that second, his heart either quit beating or turned to stone. He became numb. Once he stepped from this chamber, his life would no longer be worth living.
He heard voices on the stairs, and knew that the time had truly come. “Goodbye, Princess.”
* * *
Taking a deep breath, he tried to wash away the debilitating sadness of the memory. This time, he had a choice. This time, if she’d have him, Arabella would be his. There were no obstacles in this life to stop them from being together. The only thing that stood in their way happened to be a demon, and he had faith that she would possess the strength and wits to end its existence, allowing them to finally live in peace, without secrets or regrets.
17
Bella woke suddenly, feeling as if someone had put a rope around her waist and gently tugged at it.
Glancing around the room, she saw no one in the dim moonlight, but it also seemed as if she slowly lost the ability to control her body. As she was forced to stand, she reached over to the nightstand where the holy knife lay. With great effort—almost as if she had no power over her limbs— she picked it up, then shoved it down the back of her sweats, the handle getting caught in her underwear so it acted as a sort of holster.
Slowly, this tether dragged her toward the door. She dug her feet in and leaned backward, determined to stop whatever had a hold of her. However, it seemed the harder she tried to fight it, the stronger it became.
The door to her bedroom opened, yet she hadn’t turned the handle. As the force led her down the hallway, her heart raced in panic. Who had her, and what would they do with her?
She could only think of one logical answer—Ulric. No other entities that she had been aware of could possibly have this sort of pull over her, or want her for any reason. The werewolves had been good to her, and she had no other business with any others. No, this was definitely Ulric finally making his move, and fear gripped her soul, almost incapacitating her.
As the invisible force led her toward the front door, she began to scream for Jayden. Her terror increased as the panel opened, and she grabbed onto the doorframe as the cool night air sent a chill over her skin.
“Jayden!”
Tears began to sting her eyes as she held on. The more she resisted, the harder the pull became. She dug her fingers into the wood, and little drops of blood began forming as her nails bent backward. After a few moments, she didn’t have the strength to hold on any longer, and she let go, only to go careening down the front steps face first.
She cried out as her chin hit the cement. Then, the pull relaxed, and she could get to her feet. Once she stood outside on the lawn, she looked up at the roof. Jayden stood at the top, his gaze traveling over the neighborhood.
“Jayden!”
He actually turned away from her as he looked over the backyard of her house.
The moon shone on him, his thick arms and back seeming to glow in the gentle light. He looked more angelic in that moment than he had since the first time she’d seen him.
“Jayden! Look at me! I’m right here, and I’m in trouble!”
He didn’t even twitch his head in her direction. Why didn’t he hear her screams?
The unseen leash pulled on her again, and she fought it with everything she could. Her knife cut into her leg as she struggled, and she yanked it from her sweatpants and began to desperately swing it all around her, hoping it would somehow slash whatever had a hold of her, but her flailing proved useless.
She sobbed, feeling utterly defeated, and sank to the street, her leash still dragging her and scraping open her hands and feet. If she kept fighting it, she’d be a bruised, bloody mess when she arrived at her destination.
Standing, she wiped the tears from her eyes and walked along the path it led her on. The dim streetlights above and the empty neighborhood gave her the feeling that each step she took brought her closer to her death.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed her shoulders back and resolve set in. She would not give into her terror. Instead, she would beat it. Yes, the past week had been a combination of her worst nightmares and best fantasies, and in the middle of all the havoc, she’d learned something about herself. All those centuries ago, she should have fought her father’s ideas of how she ought to live her life, but she understood that her place in that world hadn’t allowed for it.
But today, she considered herself a strong woman, both physically and mentally. If this little game of tug-of-war was Ulric—and she had no reason to think otherwise—she would fight him with everything she had. This time, her life would be played on her own terms. As she turned the corner, she shoved the knife back into her pants, having a di
stinct feeling she would need it.
A few minutes later, the town square came into view, and the yanking stopped. She tried to turn around and run, but the force still held her in place.
Suddenly, the area around her morphed and waved. She tried to keep her balance as once again, she’d been transported back in time—specifically, to her wedding day. She gasped as she merged with Princess Arabella, doubling over in physical pain as she allowed herself to feel all the emotions of that day, just as her former self had.
* * *
She sat still as Agnes and two other servants flitted about putting the final touches on her hair. It hung from her shoulders in soft waves, nicely accenting her blue, silk kirtle. As she stared into the mirror, she imagined Jayden’s lips caressing her collarbone, his tongue licking the pulse beneath her ear, his smile as he held a lock of her hair to his nose and inhaled deeply.
Not a tear remained left to be shed, and she’d begun to feel dead inside. As Jayden left her chamber hours ago, he’d truly taken her heart with him, leaving her chest hollow and vacant. How would she live the rest of her life with this horrible feeling?
As they placed the blue and green jeweled circlet on her head, she gazed down at the floor. She’d become exactly what her father wanted her to be—an empty vessel. She no longer felt the spark of life she’d had before. Tonight, she would spread her legs for a man she didn’t know and let him rut inside her like a dog. No matter how tender he may be, she would never consider his attentions to be making love.
The walk to the Porthaethwidge chapel had been a blur, and before she knew it, she stood before its doors with the priest and Ulric.
Glancing at the crowd, she saw her father, her grandfather, and a few cousins and aunts. She assumed the people she didn’t recognize to be Ulric’s family.
She couldn’t look at her groom, so she closed her eyes and tried not to hear the words the priest spoke. With each syllable, her freedom slipped farther and farther behind her. Or, rather, the small amount of freedom she’d been allowed. How she longed for another life, one where she might be in control of her own fate.
After she had dutifully recited her vows, the doors to the chapel opened and they walked inside for the blessing. She again allowed her mind to blot out what took place around her.
As the priest announced that Ulric may kiss her, she shut her eyes and took a deep breath, then she gazed up at him. Not as tall or broad in stature as Jayden, instead, he spanned thinner and wiry. His cold, blue eyes studied her, and it startled her that he didn’t even try to mask his utter disgust.
A thick, black beard covered most of his face. Leaning in, he placed his lips upon hers, his whiskers scraping against her lips and mouth. The rough kiss held no affection, but she hadn’t expected it to.
After the priest pronounced them man and wife, they walked down the aisle and back to the Great Hall, where a magnificent feast celebrating the joining of the two houses awaited them.
They strolled together in uncomfortable silence for a moment, the rest of the wedding party trailing them. Glancing at the grey sky that threatened rain, she marveled at how it mirrored her mood. She could not find it within herself to even attempt a conversation with her husband.
Finally, Ulric spoke, his tone low. “You do not look happy, Wife.”
She gazed over at him and shrugged. “I understand that this wedding is to keep the peace between our two lands. I was prepared to do my duty, and I have. It just feels odd to be wed to a stranger.”
He nodded and glared at her. “Aye. Except I would go one step further and say that this marriage to you repulses me, but we must both do our part, correct?”
She gasped, her heart pounding in her chest. He offered her no reassurance, and as her stomach tightened, she realized his cold gaze and harsh words frightened her.
What had her father committed her to? She considered going to him and begging him to stop this debacle, but she knew he would only accuse her of being willful and defiant.
No, although she doubted she could ever love Ulric, there had to be a way for both of them to live in peace together.
* * *
The world around her morphed again, and she found herself in a makeshift bedchamber. However, she didn’t recognize it as her own. She stood near a large bed, wearing nothing but her chemise.
* * *
“Are you ready to consummate our union, Wife?”
She nodded as dread and exhaustion tore through her. It had been such a long day—first the morning ceremony, then the feast that had lasted past nightfall. Her husband had insisted they begin their journey back to his own land after the celebration. Much later, they’d stopped and made camp.
She stood in Ulric’s tent, a thick rug tickling her bare feet. He’d only spoken to her during the day when necessary, and he’d yet to use her name. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but she had to perform her duties as a new bride.
“Remove your chemise.”
She pulled the garment over her head and lowered her eyes to the floor as her husband’s wicked gaze raked over her.
“Lie on the bed.”
Stretching out, her hands at her sides, she shut her eyes. There would be no gentle caresses, no sweet kisses, and her entire body trembled in fear of what would come in the next few moments.
“A woman can be anxious during her first bedding, so it’s best to get it over with.”
She wanted to scream, to run. Instead, she lay quietly as he climbed on top of her. He kissed her cheek, then her neck, and the old ale on his breath made her stomach roll. The thick bed of hair on his chest made her itch, and she remembered the way Jayden’s sparse patch had tickled her breasts, sending her into fits of giggles.
Ulric spread her legs with his own, and she realized his two kisses would be all the preparation he would give her. She didn’t know whether to be relieved that this would end quickly, or if she should be insulted that he didn’t even want to attempt to arouse her. She bit her lip while gripping the blankets she lay on, and desperately tried to think of another time and place.
He placed his manhood at her entrance, and she recalled Jayden’s sweet kisses, his gentle touch, and the way he had brought her to such climatic heights during their lovemaking.
Ulric thrust his hips forward, and she couldn’t bite back the scream of agony.
Instead of apologizing or trying to make her feel better, he kept rutting in her, his grunts sounding in her ear. As his cock chafed her gentle flesh, she knew she’d never have to prove her chastity. She would be shocked not to find blood on the blankets after this.
A few seconds later, he finished on one low moan, then rolled off her.
He lay next to her for a brief moment, panting, then stood up. “Go to your own tent now, Wife. I am finished.”
She stared at him in disbelief, unsure whether she should be thrilled he had completed his husbandly duties so quickly, or insulted that he treated her so badly.
“Go! Get out!”
His loud voice startled her, and she got up from the bed. Bending over, she grabbed her chemise and bedrobe. Slipping them on, she turned to leave, but he stood in front of her.
His hand shot out and gripped her neck. As he squeezed, she tried to pry his fingers away, but he held fast. As she gasped for breath, a small smile came over his face and his eyes glittered with excitement. Just as she felt she may pass out, he let go.
“When I give you an order, Wife, I expect it to be done post haste. Do you understand me, or are you too dimwitted?”
She trembled from head to toe, fear curling up her spine as she inhaled deeply. Mayhap, she should have at least tried to get her father to listen to her, to end this tragedy. But now, she traveled with Urlic’s people, and there would not be any escape. “Yes, Husband. I understand.”
She walked quickly to the door and turned to look at Ulric one last time. He stood naked, his cock fully engorged. It disgusted and horrified her that he would become aroused
by hurting her, but the proof jutted from his hips.
Agnes waited for her outside and wrapped a heavy blanket around her shoulders. As the lady maid led her to her own tent, her whole body quaked, and no matter how tightly she held the wrapping, she couldn’t seem to find warmth.
When she entered her private quarters, she fell onto her bed and curled up on her side, relieved the day had finally come to an end and terribly fearful of her husband. She had wed Ulric, performed her wifely duties, and it seemed she’d been given to a monster. What type of man became aroused at hurting a woman?
She owed no one anything further this night, but she would have to bow to Ulric’s every word so she would not be hurt again. If she did become an obedient wife, then perhaps they could find some sort of relationship that would please them both.
“Can I get you anything, Princess?” Agnes whispered into the room from her own bed.
“Perhaps a sword to fall upon?”
Her request was met with silence, but Agnes stood, came over to her, and sat down.
Finally allowed to show her true emotions, she collapsed into Agnes’ arms and wept. How she wished things could be different, that she could have wed Jayden. Being with Ulric not only frightened her, but made her feel like she’d betrayed her true love.
Based on the way Ulric had treated her, she couldn’t help but think that his temperament would only get worse. She shivered, wondering what that meant for her.
* * *
Bella blinked back tears and felt the cool night air against her cheek. She found herself in Saint’s Grove again, the tether pulling her with renewed force. A man stood in the shadow of the statue of Peter Saint, but she couldn’t make out his features; only the outline of his figure, which seemed familiar to her.