Page 126 of Through the Water

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Ariana

“Never laugh at live dragons…”

-J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

Iwoke at the sound of a key turning in the lock of my bedroom door, dragged from one nightmare and into another. One I was all too familiar with.

As soon as the gates had closed, I’d been pulled from Tristan’s SUV by two armed guards. They’d marched me upstairs to my room. Just like a prisoner. I didn’t know how much time had passed since then, but it couldn’t have been long as the sky was still dark.

I shouldn’t have slept at all, knowing Killian was in jail, and Tsega had been fired.

All because of me.

I’d been convinced Tristan had his little birds watching in the shadows, but never imagined Tiffani would be the one who’d give me up.

My eyes, hot and swollen from my tears, burned as a sliver of light from the hallway cut across the bedroom. I didn’t need to see the figure entering to know who it was.

I felt it, the same way I had as a child. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled while my muscles tensed in warning. There was a primal urge to flee, but nowhere to run. I held myself still, straining to hear him over the sound of my heartbeat thrashing in my ears. My bedroom door closed with a soft click.

“Ariana,” Brad called softly. The floorboard near the foot of my bed creaked in protest as he bent to switch off my nightlight.

“Now throw this useless servant into outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

The silence was punctuated by the jangling of his belt buckle as he unfastened it and the groaning of the mattress coils as the bed dipped beneath his weight. “I know you’re awake, your breathing always gives you away. Sit up.”

I jerked away when his hand connected with my calf and pressed my back to the headboard, pulling my knees to my chest. “Don’t touch me,” I forced out. “I’ll scream.”

He snorted. “And here I thought you’d really taken to the idea of being an obedient and submissive wife—”

“You’re not my husband yet,” I coldly reminded him, clenching my jaw to stop my chin from quivering.

“That’s right,” he agreed, shifting closer. “But it seems my fiancée has suddenly gotten cold feet and needs to be reminded of who owns her.”

I shook my head, stammering, “P-p-people can’t own p-p-people.”

“Awww… your s-s-s-stutter’s back,” Brad mocked. “That’s good. After your display back at True North, I was beginning to think that quiet little girl was gone.” His hand moved to my cheek, and I raised my chin before pulling away.

“I won’t be quiet,” I hissed in defiance. “Not anymore—”

He caught my jaw in his hand, forcing my face back to his. “You’ll do as you’re told, sweetheart. And if you don’t—well, there are other ways of keeping you in line. Just ask your mama. Oh, that’s right, you can’t.”

Mama.

“What did you do to her?”

It was too dark to see his face, but I knew he was smiling as he coldly replied, “Whatever we wanted to, little dove. Now, I’m not necessarily against keeping my wife on her back in bed, but I would prefer it if she had a little bit of spark. Makes it more fun that way, don’t you agree?”

I dug my fingernails into the mattress. “Do you really think I’m going to marry you?”

Brad forced a laugh and tightened his grip on my jaw. “Oh, you will. I’ll make sure of it. You see, your father already started spending my money, so I thought it was time to collect what I’m owed.”

“But we’re not married,” I choked out, feeling the bile rising in my throat. The church—and Tristan—had preached abstinence before marriage. It was the one message I’d clung to when Brad had begun sneaking into my room.

“What—didn’t think your little stunt would have consequences?” He shook my face before dropping his hands down to my leggings. “I’m not in the mood for games anymore. You wanted to humiliate me by running all over the city with the baseball player, and now your father’s left cleaning up the mess. Our wedding is on hold until the scandal dies down—”

“There isn’t going to be a wedding.”

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