Page 29 of Ink Deep Devotion

Thump! Thump!My heart feels like it’s beating again, but it’s so broken it hurts. Each pump trying to force my mind to awaken is like running shards of glass over newly healed flesh.

No! This isn’t real.I close my eyes.I’m dreaming.

The fabric on my dress moves as he comes to stand next to me.

Heat! I’m burning up, up, up; I feel a nervous rash cover my chest and neck. His hip hits mine as gracefully as a ship nudges a buoy when it’s forced to dock—chained down, never to feel the open waves crash against its hull.

With just one quick press of his body, it happens again! I’m sick, mentally and physically. Sparks sputter and then roar backto life. It is as if I’m a vintage car, and someone is trying to make a move again, force my rusty damaged gears to work... or else.

Turning with fear, I look up to face him. Dash is here in the cold-hearted flesh. He’s taller; his shoulders are broader, and his neck is more corded with muscles. His jawline looks sharper and more squared, but his stony blue eyes are locked dead ahead. I lean forward so I can look into them; those small hazel streaks within them now seem dulled, less golden, and more like land begging for nutrients.

What hurts more? The shock of seeing him or the fact that he hasn’t looked me in the eye?

He begins to walk towards the stairs, but I find my feet trapped on the floor, unable to move. He slows, and then a guard appears beside me, taking my elbow in his strong callus hand as he forces me to walk. I want to slip free of my body, float up, and hang over the room like a rain cloud, unsure if it should cry out in pain or thunder out in fury.

Dash ascends the stairs, standing higher than my father but lower than his. The guard guides me to the same step, but I fear it might crumble under Dash’s power.

My lips part as I look at him, a new sorrow spreads its roots in my chest. He’s changed so vastly. Sure, he has the same eyes, blue mixed with a tiny bit of hazel, but they are more pained if possible.

Dash was always tall and strong, but he’s more man now than I ever could have imagined. Strong muscles sculpted over our years apart take shape under his black suit. His back is strong and wide like a wall of defense that can never be breached. He stands wide and balanced, daring others to so much as challenge him.

Where did he get that scar on his eyebrow? A tear leaks from my eye, rolling down my cheek before it stains the floor.

What have they done to you?

The broken prince is no more. He’s all king now—hard lines, refined edges, and a jawline as ruthless and cruel as the man himself.

My father turns, then hugs me.“I didn’t plan on telling you like this. I’m sorry. We will talk later.” His eyes hold mine in warning.

Dad turns to Dash and extends a hand. Dash looks down at it as if my father’s touch is beneath him. Marcus clears his throat; Dash grabs my father’s hand and shakes it.

Why hasn’t he looked at me?

We are…we are getting married!

I close my eyes, feeling dizzy. I knew I’d never have the choice of picking my husband, so I didn’t think about it. I thought about escaping instead.

The person who vowed to set me free now holds me captive—how is this possible?

Chapter 10

Mila

With a hint of apology, Dad remarks,“This isn’t how it was meant to be,” as he enters his office after Marcus and Dash, who act as if they are the bosses. The doorway is blocked by the guards, hindering my escape. When the door shuts with a click, I quickly retreat to the far corner, finding solace in the walls pressing against my shoulders. The dizziness in my head makes me wish I could faint, wake up, and find out it was just a nightmare.

This is a slow engagement that will trap me.

Marriage! To Dash!

A few years ago, I would have accepted the idea. A part of me still wants to, but the man in front of me, who can’t even look at me, surely won’t accept this marriage either.

Through teary eyes, I spy Dash as he stands tall, like a pillar behind his father. He continues to avoid making eye contact, causing the imaginary knife in my stomach to twist further with every moment.

Marcus shrugs,“What’s done is done, Greg. This was arranged years ago; it was time the news was out.”

What?

Dash’s shoulder blades draw closer, as though sensing the intensity of my stare.

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