When I walked back to the kitchen, Alexi’s hands were deep in soapy suds. On the clean table sat a stack of art supplies. My heart leapt. There was a huge pad of the finest quality watercolor paper, a whole box of a hundred shades of paint, twenty natural fiber brushes, and all the accessories I would need for a professional studio.
When I looked in the corner, I noticed a drafting table folded against the wall. He must have brought them in while I was in the bath. My mind raced with all the things I could do with these art supplies, all the beautiful sights in this ancient country I could paint.
“Oh my God!” I said, sitting down in front of the pile of treasure.
"Will this work for you?"
"Will it work for me? There are probably these best supplies I've ever had!"
"I'm glad you like them."
He finished the dishes. He was spoiling me. It made all the strange demands of the last few days seem like ancient history. Maybe he could tell I was getting fed up. He finished drying the dishes and put them away in the cabinets. I sat with one foot up on the chair and watched him walking around the kitchen. His natural grace seemed at home almost anywhere, even there. His body was like a lighthouse for mine, a beacon for what was possible. I wanted him completely, but there were so many questions in my mind, so many strange things happening.
“I saw you have not yet planted the young plants I brought you. We can do it together.”
“Alright,” I said, standing.
We walked out into the late morning sunshine. The sky was hazy yellow and clouds hung low over the lake. He picked up the tray of plants sitting on the front pouch and carried them to the back garden while I grabbed the shovel from the shed. He placed them near the gate where I had thought of planting them. When I reached where he crouched on the ground, I dug a small hole for the first plant. He gently placed it inside, covering the roots with soil and pressing it down.
“Did I tell you about my mother?” he asked me.
“No,” I said, digging a hole.
“Her name was Rivka; she was a Russian Jew. She came here to marry a Jewish man in the early 80’s. That is when my father met her. They fell in love, married, and had me a year later.”
I stopped digging and stared down at him. The Russian woman in the passport— could that have been his mother? I was frozen. Why was he telling me this?
“That must have been a scandal,” I said, not wanting to show my feelings.
“It was. It was a great scandal. Her family disowned her. She was shunned from her people. No one spoke to her again. I believe there was even an attempt on her life.”
Chapter Nine
The story of his mother had me on edge. My arms were covered in goose bumps and my neck was tense. I gripped the shovel as if I might have to use it as a weapon. It felt so intensely uncomfortable to have shared such deep intimacy with a person who I ultimately could not trust.
I wanted to cry and beat at his chest and demand to know what was in the metal box. I wanted to know why my mind melted every time he looked at me. I wanted to know why he wanted me to live in this cottage and wear that strange outfit. Most of all, I wanted to know why he wanted me...
What was that box of stuff? Was that woman really his mother? Was it for Rivka’s protection or was it some kind of charm to make her marry a man who would destroy her good name and her position in her own community? I was baffled. It made me scared and want to run.
When we finished planting the starts, I drew a bucket of water from the well and watered them down. They looked pitiful there, alone in the big empty field. Alexi went into the kitchen to wash his hands, and I watched him walk away.
I couldn't keep living like this, it was too humiliating Alexi had given up the peasant girl fetish, and he’d brought me a range and a fridge, he'd bought me hundreds of dollars of art supplies, but this whole thing was out of control.
No matter how much I wanted to stay with him and worship his body, my mind couldn’t rap around it. I wanted to be stronger, stop doing what others told me to do, and it wouldn’t help me any if I just traded Alexi for my parents. Alexi's power over me trumped my parents a hundred to one.
I thought of the night before, the intensity of it, the stark passion of his sex. I wanted to keep in close to my heart forever. But I couldn't subject myself to this lifestyle. It was too much, just too much to bare.
I walked into the kitchen and found him sitting at the table, he leaned back in a relaxed pose, one arm resting on the table, the other resting on his knee. He’d laid out tea and cookies.
“We have to talk,” I said sitting at the table.
“What is it, my Darling?” he said leaning forward.
“Well.” It was hard to talk with his gleaming blue eyes baring down on me. “It’s just. I don’t think I can stay any longer. It’s no secret I have feelings for you. You do things to me I never imagined possible. But, this situation, it’s just too much for me. It's not… normal, and I don’t feel good about it. Plus, I never see you.”’
“I have so many plans for us, my dear Julia.”
“OK, well, your plans. While I get the whole kink aspect of living in the cottage and wearing peasant girl clothes, I just don’t want to keep doing it. It isn’t fun for me to feel like I'm your sex serf.”
He threw his head back and laughed. Then looked at me straight in the eyes.
“You are definitely no one’s serf, my little Capitalist.”
“Don't get me wrong. I'm fine with the sex. I just can't keep living in this shack, alone, and working in the field, alone. I think I’m going to have to go home.”
“No, Julia, you have so much time before you have to go. Please, let me make it up to you.”
“I know you're trying, but this isn't working for me. It breaks my heart every time you leave."
“I know. I've been very busy, but I want to take you places. I planned to take you to see some ancient landmarks. I know you like that sort of thing. I want to take you on a tour of our local castles. We can take a week and stay in hotels. You can paint, bring your bikini. It will be pure luxury.”
I considered it. I was getting confused and scared about everything, the metal box, the strange requests he had for me. It wasn’t the extremely kinky sex— it was everything around it. It just felt like a big mind-game. But every time I looked at him, I melted. I would have given anything to feel him inside me again, to spend the night in his arms, inhaling the smell of his body, tracing the outline of his arcane tattoos with my fingertips.
I wanted to be his, to give myself to him, to bear his children, to be his house wench. But the American woman inside of me couldn’t put up with his strange demands for very long. It didn’t matter how strong his mesmerizing powers were.
However, if he was going to start treating me like a normal woman, maybe I could stay. I could overlook the contents of the metal box, for now. There was still so much I wanted to learn about him, and about myself. There was so much I wanted him to teach me, and show me about who I could be.
I cleared my throat. “Ok. That sounds fun."
Follow Julia and Alexi in the next episode of Spellbound: Entranced
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
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Captivated: Spellbound (Book Two) Page 4