CHAPTER 41
“But I’ll let you have freedom for a day.
Gather your thoughts, make your decisions, and when the day tomorrow ends, you’ll find me right here.
But under different conditions.” Kaelith mumbled against her lips — separated by an inch distance yet close enough to breathe in her scent.
“You’ll be under me. Not standing.” He whispered and pulled away.
Amara took a deep breath she was holding as his warmth pulled away. The thoughts swirled like a storm within her.
It wasn’t like she wanted to go to Rafael after what he did to her, but a rational part of her knew how wrong this was.
Staying with Kaelith, who was equally morally grey, was far more dangerous than anything.
For her heart and her mind. He played with her like his favorite toy, teasing her, making her feel butterflies and whatnot, and then, he took a step back, leaving her begging and panting for more when she knew she shouldn’t ask.
What was happening to her? It mustn’t be what she thought it was.
“Don’t have any ideas of running away. I will chase you. And when I catch you, I’m going to fuck that defiance out of you.”
He didn’t have to say those words; cause Amara was not planning to flee. Not like she did not want to, but where would she run exactly? Her memories were fatal, woven in thin fragments that were there and still not there at the same time.
And after what Rafael did to her, she didn’t know what she’d do. For the time being, she’d let it go as it was going.
But with careful steps. Not to get herself hurt in the process. Or her heart.
“I’ll send Martha to dress up your wounds.” Kaelith’s gaze lingered on her bandaged arms. Red-hot fury swirled inside him, and the urge to kill intensified.
He should’ve killed that fucked instead of leaving him beaten up.
Maybe he’d go back and still find him in the bar, knocked out, but that would probably cause suspicion.
Why not bring him here and skin him alive?
Even though he was his brother, Amara was someone Kaelith wanted to protect with his heart and soul.
The belt whips on her skin just unable him to see beyond the rage.
But Kaelith calmed himself. He didn’t want to scare Amara more than she already was.
“Thank you,” Amara muttered genuinely feeling grateful that he dressed her wounds. Despite kidnapping her and bringing her here without her knowledge, she wasn’t as agitated as she should have felt.
Whether it was the notion that she knew him, or the trust she unconsciously developed for him. Whatever it was, she entertained the thought for now.
No matter how scary, terrifying, or frightening he may appear, she knew, he’d never hurt her. Not intentionally though.
Kaelith read her gaze, and with difficulty, he tore his gaze from her barely covered body and looked into her eyes. “Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Amara could only nod, the words died into her mouth. Unable to hold his intense gaze, she averted her eyes to his jaw. Well-defined, with sharp angles, contributing to his manly and masculine look. It only etched her to run her fingers along the edges to test their sharpness.
Even though he said good night, Kaelith couldn’t bring himself to move. It was like she cast a spell on him that left him soul-struck. The more he looked at her, the more she was pulling him towards her.
Looking enchanting standing there, the wind blowing through the curtains brushing through her hair. Eyes filled with sparks he missed in those years, so beautiful and so magical the way she hypnotized him.
Kaelith poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue and took a step back. And then another one back with so much control. Recalling her injuries and trying to control himself.
Amara watched with wide fearful and anticipated eyes as he chuckled to himself and stopped near the doorframe.
Giving a last glance her way, he exited the room before locking the door behind him. As soon as he left, Amara took in a shivering breath.
What just happened? Why did it happen? How could she let it happen? Something that was socially wrong and was not accepted in the society.
Now that he was not here to manipulate her feelings, she could finally think straight. It took her two minutes to find her way to the bed all while stumbling and falling on the bed on her face and letting out a frustrated scream into the mattress.
Good Gracious!
The door of the room opened as Amara’s head whipped in that direction. As soon as Amara’s eyes landed on the familiar warmth of her gaze, Amara sprung to her feet.
“Martha!” Amara beamed. “I missed you! How are you!?”
“Amara…” Martha’s eyes flickered to Amara’s face as her eyes watered. Taking a stumbling step towards the young woman, Martha engulfed the girl in her arms.
“What happened, my child? How could be…” Martha broke into sobs looking at the bandages on Amara’s fragile body.
The tears continued falling as Amara gathered broken Martha into her arms hissing as the bandages shifted slightly.
Yet she kept her pain to herself and pulled the crying Martha towards the bed.
“Here, sit down. Why are you crying? I am here. With you. Nothing happened to me. I am fine. Look.” Amara twirled and Martha’s sobs became more hit-wrenching.
Amara’s smile dropped as she couldn’t understand if did she something wrong.
“Hey, hey.” Amara sighed hugging Martha.
Both of them stayed that way for some time.
Amara feels horrible for making Martha worry this way.
No matter how deep her wounds were, she didn’t want anyone to pity her.
That would only show how weak and helpless she was. How she had no control over her life.
Amara despised the vulnerability that clung to her like a shadow. The pity and sympathy of others cut deeper than Rafael's belt ever could, leaving wounds that lingered in the depths of her soul. Amara gently pulled away, wiping the tears from Martha's cheeks.
“I'm here, and I'm okay.” She whispered, masking her disruption behind a reassuring smile.
“No, no, my child. You’re not fine, this is not fine.” Martha sniffed motioning to her bandages. Amara’s smile wavered, unsure what should she say.
“I didn't mean to worry you,” She sighed, her voice a delicate echo.
Martha could understand where this was going. And she couldn’t help but feel anger.
When Kaelith brought bleeding Amara into the mansion, Martha felt her heart stop beating, as her world collided with ashes and dust.
The once smooth skin was slashed with the ugly and bruising whips. Her clothes were tattered and her body limp. At that moment, Martha saw her daughter in her.
Martha cried, and cried, cause that’s all she could do when the doctor treated her wounds.
She couldn’t even dare ask Kaelith what happened to Amara. She had never seen Kaelith this angry and roaring like a lion. After bringing Amara to the mansion, he left. Martha was confused about why would he leave Amara in this state.
But when he came back, his blazer was drenched in blood, white shirt soaked with specks of crimson. It wasn’t the first time Martha had seen this side of him, but this was the first when Kaelith’s eyes gleamed with darkness instead of that satisfaction of killing someone.
His eyes were empty, hollow if she put it in more exact words, but what scared her more was the flicker of something darker within them. The emptiness was a void she could almost understand, but that subtle, ominous spark hinted at depths she feared to explore.
Martha looked at her with a mix of relief and lingering worry. “You matter, Amara. Your pain matters.”
Amara sighed, a conflicted expression on her face.
“But now I’m here, right? You can take care of me.” Amara tried to smile but instead, her lips curved in a shaking smile.
Martha’s lips wobbled as she tried not to cry. Despite being met with such cruelty, Amara was trying to make Martha feel at ease. How selfless was she? To what extent this kindness of hers would take her?
Martha nodded, trying not to dwell deeper. For now, she needed to change her bandages. “Then you need to obey me, okay? Whatever I say, you need to do, alright?” Martha grabbed Amara’s shoulders and gently pushed her down on the bed on her stomach.
Amara’s eyes furrowed in confusion. “But I do whatever you tell me to do,” Amara whined, her tone almost childlike.
Martha gently tugged at the edges of the bandage revealing the belt whips on Amara's back. The soft lamplight cast shadows on the raw marks. Amara winced, her eyes betraying a mixture of pain and vulnerability.
Martha, with a tender smile, reassured her. “This is different, Amara. Trust me." She tried not to touch her wounds as she carefully wiped the surrounding area.
Martha's fingers stilled for a moment, a subtle tremor as she stared at her back. She took a measured breath; her gaze fixed on the scars.
Her voice held a steady cadence as she spoke. “You've been through so much.”
Martha murmured. Her hands continued skillfully wrapping fresh bandages around the mosaic of still-raw wounds.
The room was filled with hushed silence– the soft rustle of fabric, the occasional creak of bed as Amara flinched and the cold scissors made contact with her wounds.