Chapter 10
Aaliyah
The room was quiet except for the faint crackle of wood in the fireplace, or at least the sound of my breathing, which I was trying to control. I stared at the wall, my muscles tensed from the intense back pain. I could hear Tristan behind me, opening the small jar containing balm, which he planned to apply on my back to ease the pain.
I hated the way my heart pounded, knowing his hands would soon be on me. I should've told him to stop. I should've told him that I didn't need his help. But I couldn't. My body didn't move an inch from the position I was in. Maybe it was the pain, or maybe it was something else.
Slowly, he moved closer, and the bed beside me dipped as he sat down. His fingers touched my skin, and I felt a shiver down my spine. I knew the balm was cold, but the chill came from his touch, not the balm. Goosebumps prickled my skin.
He was so gentle and careful, completely the opposite of the man I thought I knew. With every touch, I could feel my soul drifting away.
I gazed at the white wall, my jaw clenching as if I could stop the swirl of emotions inside me or the storm of thoughts in my head.
I frowned, biting my lip to keep from saying anything stupid. I didn't want to feel this way, especially not about him. But as he continued, the storm of thoughts vanished. The ache in my back seemed to melt into my skin, and as the pain faded, a new, profound feeling swarm through me.
I should've been focusing on the pain, on the death of my brother, and on how I was no longer part of my pack. But all I could think about was the sensation of his fingers, and how I should tell him to go touch me in intimates part of my body. It fueled the anger I was feeling.
Why was he even doing this?
I tried to convince myself that it was nothing and that I was just overthinking.
But then, his soft, gentle touch on my skin felt like he was being careful, like he didn't want to hurt me.
I bit my lower lip, frustration brewing inside me. I hated that he was the only one helping me, and I hated that I couldn't ignore the feel of his fingers on my skin, the coldness he sent through me.
I shouldn't feel this way toward him. I don't like him, no matter how soft his touch or how gentle he was being. But the worst part was the silence between us—his heavy breathing falling on my skin. He didn't say a word, and I couldn't turn around to see the expression on his face.
I tried to close my eyes and focus on my thoughts, but my body betrayed me. I let out a shallow breath when his fingers brushed too close to my lower back.
He wasn't rushing as he continued brushing my skin. Did he know how much this affected me? Was he doing this on purpose?
When he finally pulled his hand away, a cold wind brushed against my skin. The absence of his touch was ten times worse than the pain. I slowly turned around, sitting up on the bed with him beside me.
"How do you feel now?" he asked.
"Good," I responded, clearing my throat.
He hesitated before pointing toward the wardrobe. "There are female clothes suitable for you to wear. If you don't like any of them, we can go shopping tomorrow."
I didn't say anything as he rose from the bed and walked toward the wardrobe. He picked out a short red nightgown that left space for the wound on my back.
"Thank you," I said, taking it from him.
He grabbed my hand, pulling me closer, and suddenly I was standing inches away from him.
"Don't," he murmured, brushing a strand of curls from my forehead as he spoke. "Don't thank me. You will be my wife after all, and there will be more of this."
"Wife?" I scoffed, taking a step back. "Are you doing this to please me? To make me forget what happened?"
His lips thinned into a straight line. "Little mouse, you need to know that in this house, we don't reopen old wounds. We already talked about this in the car. Why are you still on it?"
"Because you're going to marry me against my will," I said, clenching my hands.
"I give you two weeks. If you don't fall in love with me, then call me a bastard," he said.
"Bastard," I said, and he laughed. "I don't see anything funny."
But he kept laughing, infuriating me.
"If you think this is your way to make me stay with you in this house, then you should know I will never fall in love with you. This is against my will," I said, walking past him and entering the bathroom.
Dressed in the red nightgown, I stepped out to find him turning around. His eyes scanned me from head to toe, and a smile appeared on his face as he closed the distance between us.
"Aren't you a cup of cake?" he asked.
"Actually, I'm feeling hungry," I said. "So if you really want to imprison me in this house, then you should know that I love food, and I'm hungry now."
"Piper is on it," he said.
Just as the words left his mouth, the door opened, and Piper walked in with another woman dressed as a maid. I raised an eyebrow, remembering Piper had said there were no maids in the house.
After dropping the tray of food on the table, Piper turned to leave. "We didn't know your preference, so we prepared a bit too much."
I turned to Tristan. "I thought there were no maids in the house."
"Piper and the other girl are maids working for my siblings," he said.
"How many siblings do you have?" I asked.
"Why don't you eat, and then I'll tell you everything," he said, sitting beside me. "Do you think you can finish it all?"
"Without a second thought," I said, and he smiled.