Page 23 of Taken By the Soldier
LUKA
It’slate afternoon when I return to the cabin. Home sweet home. Much to my surprise, my pulse quickens at the thought of seeing Judith. Not for the first time, I marvel at the intensity of my attraction to her.
But I don’t see any sign of her. I expect to find her in the kitchen, or the living room, but she’s nowhere on the first floor of the house. I walk around to make sure none of the downstairs windows are broken and breathe a sigh of relief when I find them all intact, even if I am supposed to receive an alert on my wrist comm if the newly installed security system is breached.
I climb the stairs two at a time, eager to locate my bride. Perhaps she’s still exhausted from all she’s been through in the last couple of days and required a nap. But I don’t find her in our bedroom and my worry quickly deepens.
“Judith!” I call out.
I pause in our bedroom long enough to strip off my wet uniform and put on a spare one. “Judith!” I shout again. Just as I exit our bedroom, I spot her in the hallway. She must’ve been in one of the guestrooms. Doing what? I wonder.
“I’m here,” she says in a quiet voice. She gives me a polite smile that appears forced. “Is-is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I reply, holding her gaze. “I’m back from patrol and thought we could spend the rest of the day getting to know one another better.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh? What-what is it that you want to know about me?”
I almost chuckle. She looks terrified by the prospect of us becoming better acquainted with one another. And yet we’re married. She’s my wife and we consummated our marriage just last night. I also took her over my knee for the first time, and I start to wonder if perhaps this is the reason for her sudden nervousness.
After approaching her, I take her hands in mine. She lowers her gaze and stares at my chest, a visible tremor moving through her body. She’s still wearing the baggy jeans and t-shirt that was given to her on the night we married, and I resolve to acquire new clothing—proper clothing in the Zasforran style—for her as soon as possible. I’m not sure why Cynthia gave her jeans and a t-shirt, but after further consideration, I suppose the older woman must’ve sensed Judith would be resistant to wearing a Zasforran dress.
“Come downstairs with me, wife, and I’ll open a bottle of wine for us to share,” I say. “We can spend the rest of the afternoon talking. You needn’t be anxious. I just want to talk with you.”
Her eyes cloud with wariness but she soon gives a slight nod. “Okay. I guess that sounds fine.”
Holding her hand, I lead her downstairs and leave her in the living room while I fetch wine from the kitchen. I also prepare a plate of crackers and cheese, as I’m not certain if she’s eaten lunch yet. There’s plenty of food in the kitchen, but I don’t know if she helped herself. I had a quick lunch with my men as we patrolled the borders of our Deep Creek settlement, but I want to ensure Judith doesn’t go hungry. I suspect she didn’t have much food while she was hiding out in her apartment. She’s my responsibility and I won’t let her go hungry ever again.
I return to the living room and hand her a glass of red wine. I place the tray in front of her and notice her eyes light up at the sight of food.
“Thanks,” she murmurs. “I haven’t had lunch yet.” She grabs a piece of cheese and pops it into her mouth.
“What have you done with yourself today?” I ask as I sit next to her, so close my thigh grazes hers. She jolts at my abrupt nearness, but I don’t scoot over.
“Well, I’ve walked around the house about a hundred times, paced the floors, and stared out all the windows. You know, the sort of thing a person does when they’re held captive and locked inside a house.” She gives me a sharp look but then her gaze quickly darts away. Her throat moves as she swallows hard. “I-I am not trying to be disrespectful, but there isn’t much to do and…” Her voice trails off and she sighs.
I place my wine glass on the coffee table before leaning back to drape an arm around her shoulders. I peer down at her and take note of the increasing rise and fall of her chest. Despite the intimacy we shared last night, my closeness is making her nervous.
“Most Zasforran wives spend their days cooking, cleaning, tending the children, visiting with friends, gardening, that sort of thing,” I say. “Many wives also enjoy hobbies—sewing, reading, knitting, even painting. What did you like to do for fun before the war?” Not for the first time, I’m struck by the fact that I know very little about my new bride.
Her head swivels my way, and she levels an annoyed look upon me. “Do you have any idea how sexist you sound right now? Maybe I would prefer to spend my time hunting, fishing, and patrolling the borders of the settlement instead.” She looks away and shakes her head as she whispers, “Christ on a cracker, this is fucking insane,” under her breath.
“You’ll watch your tongue.” I grasp her chin and jerk her face toward mine. Bristling with displeasure, I give her a stern look. “What have I told you about cursing, princess?”
She pales and tries to jerk out of my hold, but I tighten my grip on her chin. “Um, you’ve told me not to do it.”
“I realize the ways of my people are different than what you are used to, and I have tried to be patient with you these last two days, but if I hear another curse word fall from your lips, you’ll go over my knee for a sound spanking. Do you understand?” Before coming to America, I could’ve counted on one hand the number of times I’d heard a female use foul language. It strikes me as unnatural, and I won’t have my own wife debasing herself in such a way.
“Fine. Okay. I-I understand.” Fear sparks in her eyes and she exhales a shuddering breath.
“Good,” I say. “I’m the leader of this settlement, which means the women who live here will eventually start looking to you for guidance. You must set a good example for the other females who are claimed as brides by my soldiers. If you fail me in this, Judith, there will be firm consequences for you.”
Chapter11
JUDITH
It’sa struggle to breathe as Luka holds my chin. I long to tear my gaze from his and lower my head, but he won’t let me. He continues staring in my eyes with an intensity that strips my defenses.
I want to rage and shout at him that I won’t set a good example for the other stolen wives. I want to throw in his face that I’m going to escape soon and he could fuck himself. But those brave words die in my throat.
