Chapter 8 #2
“Look at me. NOW.” At his command, I freeze. The knife slips further in as he pushes. His head ducks down to graze my ear. “You underestimate my patience, wife. I would wait lifetimes for you.”
That lurches me out of my state. I step back, releasing my hold on the knife. It falls from our hands, solence striking the tip and splashing against the white cotton tablecloth, clattering to the floor.
When I look up, I find something I’ve never seen on my husband’s face before: feral abandon. And I run…
After I finish on the toilet, I hand him the stick, and together, we wait in silence. I grab my robe, coming back to find him staring down at the bathroom counter where the stick lies. I sidle up beside him, deciding to look up at him instead of the stick, which I already know the results of.
“You didn’t shave this morning?” My fingers fidget over old wounds to touch the rough hair on his face. He knows it does things to my thighs when he rubs those grating cheeks on them right before he—
Stop.
“Didn’t have time. I woke up late.”
My eyebrows pierce my forehead. “You woke up late.” Disbelief is clear on my face, and he traces a finger down between the dip of my robe, allowing it to fall open, exposing my left breast to him.
“I was up late teaching a subordinate some manners.” He caresses my breast.
I refuse to melt at his words and manipulations, saying, “Time’s up,” when I hear the alarm on his phone go off.
Looking at me for a second longer than necessary, Melek extracts himself from tracing the curves of my body, reaching for the stick.
Not saying a word, he mulls over the results, rubbing a hand over his chin, finally pondering our predicament.
My horror. His dream. “I’ll send the doctor over this afternoon. ”
This is the seventh viable pregnancy since Sunny.
Before him, in the first five years of our marriage, we managed to get pregnant three times, and each time, I couldn’t carry beyond the first three months.
Until Sunny stuck around for five, six, seven and then eight months.
Then came his birth, which was a whole ordeal.
It was the only time I’ve ever seen Melek frazzled.
I lost a lot of solence, Sunny was early, and we were at home.
Melek basically had a birthing suite delivered to our house within minutes of me losing consciousness.
That’s what Mary told me. The last thing I remember is him shoving a needle into my arm.
Turns out a raging commander of Halo can get a lot of work done in a short period of time, including saving his wife’s life. He did have some practice from the first time around. Though if I ask anyone in this house about his first wife, it’s like she didn’t exist at all.
I fix my robe as he goes to leave. Peeking at the pregnancy test, it tells me nothing I haven’t already surmised.
My symptoms have always been very consistent.
Unending sensitive nipples, nauseous when presented with the smell of eggs or meat, and a tiredness that leaves me fighting my eyelids each afternoon.
Mary knew straight away when I ran for the toilet as soon as she placed a plate of eggs and toast in front of me. She didn’t say a word. She’s been feeding me porridge since.
With Melek’s exit, I hear the scamper of feet thudding along the carpet to our en suite. “Morning, Mama,” Sunny says, all sunshine as he bounds into the stark space.
“Morning, baby.” I take him in my arms, sniffing his honeyed, uniquely Sunny scent. “Did Papa say good morning to you?”
Without fail, each morning, Melek spends a good hour playing with Sunny in his room. It is part of his routine. Just like fucking me into submission each night is part of his routine. And training the keepers, even though it’s above his pay grade as a council member.
“Papa said he was running late and couldn’t play.” I pull back, his little mouth turning downwards. A cheeky smile soon replaces it as he says, “He said I’ve got an important job to do while he’s gone.”
“Oh, really?” I ask.
“Yes. He said I have to take care of you today ’cause you’ve been feeling a bit sick.” I almost want to cackle at the double standard. His father wasn’t overly careful with me last night.
I crouch down before him. “I’m a little tired, but you know what would be super helpful?”
“Yes?” He looks about ready to burst, his eagerness charming.
I hope he doesn’t lose his empathy, but if Melek has any say—and he has all the say—he’ll start The Academy when he’s seven, a brainwashing military school for the males of Halo.
I can only imagine what he will turn into when they have him in their clutches.
That only gives me one year to get us out of this mess.
No son of mine is joining an army to kill and slaughter.
Halo used to push all manner of propaganda on us in the factories.
Being in a farming community didn’t stop us from hearing the true whispers of the fairies and how they were the original species of this land.
That they were back to save it from the cruelty of the human custodians.
I won’t let my son be part of a war that has no point in being waged.
“How about when you see me starting to yawn after lunch, you come to rest with me in your bedroom? That would make me feel so much better.”
Sunny joyfully bounces on his feet, stating, “I can do that, Mama. I’ll cuddle you sooooooo tight.”
“How tight?” I ask, holding out my arms to him.
“This tight.” He pounces on my waist and squeezes hard.
“Your hugs are my favourite. I can’t wait.”
This evening, Melek has managed to catch the tail end of dinner. Sunny is ecstatic. He loves pestering his papa about his work, and Melek never grows tired of answering his questions. Pity he never spares me any of his patience. Storm, the thorn in Melek’s side.
After I put Sunny to bed, I walk the upstairs landing, following the glow of light, and find Melek in his office, working on his computer. It’s rare that I come in here. The door is always locked when he’s not home and usually off-limits to prying eyes.
Since Melek has the door flung wide open, I take it as my invitation to enter.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves bracket the sides of the room, and a long walnut desk with two black velvet armchairs sits by a window at the back of the room, overlooking the garden.
The bookshelves remind me of our first meeting at his office in town, more void of life compared to the one at home, with its dark timber accents.
The woodwork is my favourite part of this whole house.
Monochrome grey has never been a colour scheme I can get behind.
Maybe that’s why I’ve always been so drawn to the Fairy Lands, the colour alone a feast for the senses.
Feeling like a burglar in my own home, I silently glide my bare feet on the plush rug and around his desk until I’m standing beside my husband.
His shirt is open, revealing the bronzed, masculine chest underneath.
The lamplight on his desk highlights his striking cheekbones.
It’s unfair how tantalising he looks for a hollow.
None of the keepers who visited the lightning factory ever looked like Commander Melek.
Jumping up, I perch on the available desk space next to him.
A calloused palm slides up my leg, taking my thigh and squeezing under my white midi dress. “We need to talk about what the doctor said.”
Choking, the air in the room suddenly disappears.
How can this man alter my subconscious with one touch?
While Sunny was being distracted by Mary, the doctor was given a brief opportunity to examine me. He would not tell me what he thought. Standard procedure. All information would be passed on to my husband. That’s how being the wife of a hollow goes. You’re another commodity.
I settle back further on his desk, my legs swinging. “Okay. I’m all ears.”
He pushes back his chair slightly, his thumb making a drugging circle on my skin, the material of my dress clearly showing the indent of where his large hand takes over my leg. “There’s going to be some risks with this pregnancy.”
I wave my hand in the air. “Yes, and…” He’s stating the obvious from what the doctor told us every other time I fell pregnant after Sunny.
Didn’t stop Melek from putting babies in me, I might add, or me begging for it.
So, he goes on with the facts, sizing me up. “You’re about six weeks. Haemorrhaging is a possibility at any stage, or going into early labour, as you experienced both in your last pregnancy.”
My stare almost glazes over. Grief hits differently these days. It’s such a constant that I barely notice the damage it causes. I’m tempted to say, “If this even lasts.” But once again, I hold my tongue.
Finding a leaf stuck to my dress, Melek pauses before placing it in the bin, then he brings his chair closer to me.
“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” my husband asks as he grabs my hand and places it firmly in his own.
A creak comes from his chair, and his form is towering over me. “Look at me, wife.”
I release the pent-up petulance before I angle my chin slightly, expecting him to do the rest. I’m not disappointed. He uses his free hand to push my chin up to face him. “You will listen.”
“Yes. Sir.” I punch out each word individually.
His lips twitch. My core grips down on nothing.
“Good. The doctor has recommended rest as a preventative measure for any future mishaps.” I grimace at his choice of words. He continues, “I have to agree, as it seems what we are doing isn’t working.”
No way. Is he taking angry hate fucking off the table? My ears perk up, and my heart deflates.
“You will be on a strict diet. Mary will prepare new medicines you’ll need to take daily.” I nod. Fat luck if he thinks I’m taking those horrible pills again. They only ever made me puke with Sunny. “You will only be allowed to do light duties in the garden, and you cannot pick up Eli.”