Chapter Seven
Belle
T here’s complete, utter silence in this room as soon as Julian says that .
I don’t know what to say, what to do, besides stare up into his eyes — one beautiful, one ruined — as my mind goes blank .
I don’t know what he means by that. Not exactly, but he’s got his big, rough hand on my face, thumb stroking along my jaw, his body close to mine, the energy in this room practically vibrating .
And I know that he doesn’t mean it in any sort of official capacity. Prince Julian isn’t saying I’m his subject or his citizen .
He’s saying I’m his . It’s deeper, more sinister, and his words rock me to my core .
You. Are. Mine .
Right now, he could do anything he wants, and I’d be helpless to stop him. There are guards outside the door to this room, fifty feet away, so even if I tried to run I’d be instantly caught and hauled back .
But the weird thing is that I don’t want to run. As fucked up as it is, as much as I know that I shouldn’t be here, I’m being held for reasons I don’t understand on false pretenses, I don’t want to leave .
I want Prince Julian to tell me what you are mine means .
I take a deep breath. I close my eyes, can’t help but feel his body heat from this close, smell his delicious scent, all musk and pine .
No. I don’t want him to tell me .
I want him to show me .
The realization rocks my eyes open again. I think I gasp, softly, looking back and forth from his good eye to his ruined one, and suddenly my mind goes berserk .
Prince Julian, wrapping his hand around my hair, tugging, pulling my head back, dragging me to my knees …
I shudder, blinking. I’ve never had a thought like that before, but I’ve never felt so overwhelmed in the presence of a man like this before, either .
“I suggest you remember that,” he growls, his good eye still boring into mine. “You’re in a comfortable bedroom and not a cell because it’s my pleasure that you be in a bedroom .”
Something about the way he says that makes heat twist and writhe, deep inside me. I ignore it .
“This is unlawful,” I whisper, but there’s no force behind the words because despite everything, I don’t want him to let me go. I want him to step closer, I want him to put his hands on me, I want him to …
Prince Julian drops his hand to his side, turns, saunters back behind the desk. Every move he makes is the move of a man perfectly in control, the movements of a man who knows exactly what’s going to happen next .
“Isabelle Marchand, I am the law in this castle,” he says, his voice a low, deep growl .
Julian leans forward across his desk, hands flat on the mahogany .
“You’re dismissed,” he says .
At last he breaks his gaze on me, sits in his huge chair, turns his attention to something else .
I exhale in a rush, suddenly breathless. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until right now, when I’m suddenly lightheaded and shaky .
But I force my feet to move. Dreamlike, I get myself to the office’s massive wooden doors, and just as my hand is on the knob, Julian speaks up again .
“I’ve sent your father home, by the way,” he says .
I whirl around, look at him, but he’s speaking as if he’s speaking to the pile of papers on his desk .
“You’ll be brought a telephone later on today and you’ll be permitted to speak with him .”
Relief prickles through me, my hands and toes suddenly warm with it. Even if I’m a prisoner, at least my father can go free .
“Thank you,” I say stiffly .
Julian finally looks up, pierces me with his good eye .
“I’m a man of my word,” he says softly, and coming from anyone else those words would be comforting .
But from Julian, they’re a promise. A vow, an oath that he won’t forget what he said to me earlier: you are mine .
Again, heat builds in my core, and I shake my head, open the door to try and lessen it .
It doesn’t work .