Keeping his bride

Aria

AFTER THE PHONE call to my brother, I wait in anticipation for my rescue. Every day that passes, I think maybe today is the day I’ll be saved. But at least a week goes by without any sign of that happening anytime soon, and my sense of hope begins to slowly deflate. I know my family will do whatever they can to get me back, but I just wish I could speed up the hands of time. The more time I stay here, the more confusing it gets. The lines between captor and captive are beginning to blur, and I don’t like it.

“These are healing nicely,” Mateo says as he rubs a soothing balm over my back.

Even though I should hate his touch, I’ll admit it does feel good. “What does my back look like?” I question, wondering if I look like a scarred freak because of him.

“The doctor did an excellent job. You can barely even tell that you were whipped,” he says. “I guess he’ll be keeping his hands after all,” he murmurs.

His statement has my head whipping to the side. “You threatened to take his hands if I scarred?” I ask in disbelief.

“Yes,” he states matter-of-factly as if it’s not a big deal at all.

I turn away from him once more, overanalyzing everything in my head. Why would he want me to be whipped for stabbing him and then want me to not be scarred? Unless… Fear grips me tightly by the throat, refusing to let go. And suddenly I need to know the truth about my future here. “Are you…are you going to sell me?” I ask, my voice just above a whisper. The thought has crossed my mind a time or two, but now I feel even more certain that it’s a possibility. It could be the reason why he hasn’t taken my virginity. He’s just biding his time until he sells me off and recoups some of his money he wasted on me.

Mateo doesn’t even hesitate before saying, “No.”

“Then what are you going to do with me?” I don’t know which is worse…knowing or not knowing at this point.

His hands hesitate before continuing to rub the balm over my back. “I don’t know yet,” he eventually answers.

“Oh, well, that’s really reassuring,” I say sarcastically before slapping a hand over my lips. Damn my smart mouth. Always getting me in trouble.

I expect Mateo to get mad, but instead he chuckles softly. “You don’t have to worry about anything right now.”

Yeah, right now. But what about a few days or a few weeks from now when he gets bored of me or when I slip and say something to piss him off? Will he whip me again? Or even kill me?

“You’re lucky,” he says quietly, interrupting my thoughts.

“Lucky?” I question in disbelief.

“Your back. No scars,” he explains. “You’re lucky.”

I scoff at his words. “I wouldn’t consider myself very lucky.”

“You didn’t have to endure the pain either. You’re extremely fortunate, Aria.”

His words upset me, and I pull away from him. I stand up on shaky legs, grabbing the edge of the bed to steady myself as I keep a vice grip on the sheet wrapped around my front. “What would you know about the pain I’ve endured? Has anyone ever whipped you?” I ask crossly.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

“Yes,” he says, giving me a searing look. “I was only eleven years old, but I still remember every strike of that whip, every time my flesh was ripped open.”

I stare at him, searching for any signs of deceit but finding none. He endured this when he was a little boy? How did he ever survive it? I barely survived. I can’t even imagine being whipped when I was a child.

“Who hurt you?” I ask him, my voice soft.

“The same people who murdered my parents and sisters,” he answers quietly before standing and glancing at his expensive watch. Clearing his throat, he tells me, “I think dinner is almost ready. I’ll have one of the maids bring you up a tray.”

And then he just walks out of the room after dropping a bombshell and ultimately leaving me speechless. God, he has a knack for doing that lately.

Aria

I STEP OUT of the shower and look over my shoulder into the mirror. The whip marks on my back have healed, leaving only ghost trails behind of what really happened to me. Even though I won’t bear the scars physically, I’ll never be able to forget everything I endured. I’m scarred emotionally and mentally, probably for life.

Over the past few days, Mateo has slowly weaned me off the drugs he was supplying to me. And although I miss the high and escaping reality and the gravity of the situation I’m in, I’m glad to be coherent and clearheaded for once.

It’s also been nice to be able to shower on my own and not have to rely on one of the housekeepers for help. I’m sure that poor woman has enough to do around this place without having to worry about me. She cooks for an entire army of men but claims to love it. Her passion is cooking, and I’ve promised to help her in the kitchen as soon as I’m better.

Even though I shouldn’t be making false promises that I probably won’t be able to keep, it felt good to see her smile. I’m still not giving up on hope that my family is on their way to rescue me. It could be any day now, and I have to stay vigilant. I must stay prepared.

I’m brushing my teeth when a cramp in my lower back has me almost doubling over in pain. I drop my toothbrush and clutch the edge of the sink to keep from falling over. I’ve been off my feet for a while, so I chalk it up to my body protesting all the moving I did today and decide to just get ready for bed. I’m suddenly feeling exhausted, and sleep sounds like just what I need. I rinse my mouth out quickly and dry my face with a towel.

When I emerge from the bathroom, the lamp by the bed is on and Mateo is coming out of the walk-in closet wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. His muscles and numerous tattoos covering almost every inch of his bronze skin are on full display, and I can clearly see the outline of his dick through the thin cotton material. I have to tear my eyes away. He looks…huge. And I can’t help but wonder if he’s hard or if that’s just him soft. Oh god, what if he’s a shower and a grower?