Chapter 4 - Sophie #2
I wake up gasping, my body jerking upright on instinct, lungs burning as if I’ve surfaced from deep water.
A hand flies to my forehead as I frown deeply, the remnants of a headache setting in as if to let me know that I’d been sleeping for too long, dreaming for too long.
Only when I’m able to open my eyes and adjust them to the warm sunlight that kisses my cheeks do I freeze, unfamiliar surroundings coming into focus.
Wooden walls. The soft crackle of a fire somewhere nearby.
The scent of pine and smoke, and something warm and grounding that makes my head spin.
I’m lying in a bed that isn’t mine, wrapped in heavy blankets, my clothes still on but my shoes gone from my feet.
Panic flares instantly, sharp and blinding.
I scramble backward, heart racing, the events of the night slamming into me in disjointed flashes: dark alley, cold touch, Damian’s hands, that screech, that impossible sight…
“No,” I breathe, pressing my palms into my eyes as if I can physically push the memory away.
I didn’t see that. I couldn’t have. People don’t turn into w—“Stop,” I whisper to myself, my voice shaking, the word trying to be final.
“You passed out. That’s all. You fainted when you saw him after all that time. You imagined the rest.”
The door croaks open, and I whip my head around, fury and fear colliding as Damian steps into the room carrying a mug of something steaming.
He looks…normal. Human. Fully clothed, his hair still damp as if he’d taken an ordinary, human shower.
For one wild second, relief floods me so hard it almost hurts.
See? I didn’t see anything. I couldn’t have. I made it all up, just a figment of my wild imagination conjured up by the pain of my heartbreak, picturing Damian as a beast. Because he is. I hate him. He’s a beast for breaking my heart.
But then my eyes drop to his arm, wrapped tightly in bandages darkened with red, and the fear comes roaring back.
“What did you do to me?” I demand, my voice raw. “Where am I? Why am I here?”
“Sophie…” he says softly, taking a step toward me, and I recoil instantly, pressing myself into the headboard. His face tightens, regret flashing through his eyes before something darker surfaces.
I turn my face away, refusing to meet his eyes. Crossing my arms instead, I huff through my nostrils. “You have a lot of explaining to do,” I snap. “You dragged me off the street like a lunatic, and I wanna know why. I wanna know where I am, and what I’m doing here.”
“I was protecting you,” he says, and something in his tone makes my skin crawl. It’s not fear I’m feeling, but red, hot rage. “And I still am.”
“From what?” I laugh, sharp and hysterical. “From whom? You?” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, intent on leaving, on finding a door, any door, but his next words stop me cold.
“Do you remember what happened last night?”
Gulping hard, I look at him with a trained expression, a cool, calm, and collected one that gives nothing away—not even to myself. If I were looking into a mirror, I might have convinced myself that last night never happened, that Damian didn’t morph—
“No. I don’t remember what happened,” I respond bluntly, spinning on my heel and heading toward the only window in the bedroom, my breath catching in my throat when I see the vast expanse of stone and greenery that stretches for miles ahead, and I quickly catch on that we’re in some isolated mountainous region in God-knows-where.
“The only way I can keep you safe is if you stay here. With me. As my wife.”
The room spins, and my heart stops beating for a split second. I turn around slowly, staring at him, disbelief consuming me as my stomach drops.
“You’re insane,” I scoff. “I wanna go home.”
Damian sighs, dropping his gaze. “I’m not taking you back,” he says, his voice hardening, his eyes going glacial in a way I’ve never seen before as he lifts them slowly. “You don’t have a choice, Sophie. You can’t leave.”
That’s when it hits me.
This isn’t a misunderstanding. This isn’t a concern. This is captivity.
I swallow hard, fear crawling up my throat as I meet his gaze, my mind racing even as I force my body to go still.
There was a time I would have said yes to him without hesitation.
A time I would have believed every word he said was for my own good.
But the man standing in front of me now feels like a stranger wearing Damian’s face.
“You really think you can just kidnap me and propose?”
Damian’s shoulders square, and his chin tilts up. “This isn’t a request, Sophie. This is what needs to be done. For your own safety. Trust me.”
Trust him?
Hah! As if I’d ever trust him again!
Except, there’s nothing in his eyes that shows me there’s even a small chance that I can talk my way out of this.
For whatever reason, Damian has to do what he’s doing right now; he’s sure of himself.
“You don’t actually believe that I can trust you,” I sneer, and Damian shrugs, turning back to the door and strolling toward it calmly.
“It doesn’t matter if you do or not, but you’re not leaving this place. You will be my wife tomorrow night.” The words are final, and the door closes behind him when he steps out. There’s a metallic click, and that’s what spurs my steps as I rush to the door, only to find that it’s locked.
He didn’t even give me a chance to protest, argue, or fight this ridiculous decision. I don’t know what’s going on and why, but then again, I don’t want to accept what I thought I saw.
Fine.
If this is a cage, I’ll play along long enough to find the door and escape. Escape this place.
And most of all, escape Damian.