The intrusive, primal thought crept into my mind without warning—I want to possess her.
The flood of longing and craving for this woman was overwhelming, filling me with a fierce ache that pulsed through every fiber of my being. The intensity of my desire was palpable, a burning fire that threatened to consume me whole. I could feel the pull toward her, like a magnet drawing me closer and closer until I was lost in the depths of yearning.
Her eyes held mine, clear and questioning.
“Why are you here?” she asked gently, shifting beneath the thin barrier of linen. “What do you need?”
The urgency of my mission resurfaced, pulling me back from the edge of distraction.
“The antidote,” I replied, my voice steadier as I clung to the purpose that brought me here. “I’m here to get the antidote for belladonna poisoning. For Marcellious,” I stammered.
“Please continue—get the Calabar,” she said, her surprising and telling knowledge of the remedy.
As I moved to the cupboard facing the bed, where the dark-green vials were kept, my glance swept over her again. The sight of her—so broken yet enveloped in quiet dignity—ignited a protective flame within me. How did she come to be in such a state? The urge to shield her from any further harm rose fiercely in my chest.
Securing the vial of Calabar extract for Marcellious, I felt its weight in my hand and heart.
This gorgeous woman needed more than a mere herbal antidote; she needed someone to ensure no more pain would come to her. As odd as it felt, I wanted to be the man to protect and care for her.
I sat on the bed beside her, the wooden frame creaking under my weight.
“What happened? Did the Timehunters hurt you? Were you and Marcellious kept in the same place?” My voice was a whisper, rough with concern.
“Yes,” she replied, her voice trembling. “Raul Costa captured us. It was awful.” The pain in her eyes mirrored the bruises marring her skin, each one a silent testament to the horrors she had endured.
Gently, I peeled the sheet from her arms, revealing the map of her suffering. She flinched, but she didn’t pull away. My fingers hovered over each bruise, the urge to soothe her wounds overwhelming.
“Did they violate you?” I asked, the words scraping from my throat, raw with the need to understand the full extent of their cruelty.
“No,” she whispered, her voice a fragile mix of relief and lingering sorrow. “It was heading in that direction, but I would have fought them with everything I had.” She hesitated, her gaze dropping. “When Marcellious was brought into captivity, their attention was focused on him.”
Her courage astounded me, and my hand, as if with a will of its own, continued to gently trace the shadows of violence upon her skin. The connection felt sacred and necessary. I needed to know more and understand everything that had happened.
“Take your hand off her. She’s betrothed. I don’t think her betrothed would like this.” Zara’s voice sliced through the charged air, startling me.
I retracted my hand as if burned, my heart sinking. This beautiful, exotic woman was already taken.
Zara’s stern gaze bore into me, and with a sharp tilt of her head, she signaled me to follow her into the hall.
“You cannot touch her like that,” she hissed, her words laced with warning and anger. “Not after everything she has endured. And certainly not when she has already been promised to another man.”
“Who is her betrothed?” I asked, my voice taut with an edge I couldn’t suppress.
“His name is Osman,” Zara replied calmly.
The name struck me like a physical blow.
“Osman?” I repeated. “The Osman, I know?”
Confusion clashed with a sharp pang of betrayal, a storm brewing in my chest.
“Yes, the same man Roman and Marcellious met at the tavern, the one helping you excavate the cave. I placed him there.”
Every piece of the puzzle clicked into—a place with agonizing clarity. The setup, Osman’s story, it was all Zara’s doing. And there I stood, unwittingly caught in the center of a game I hadn’t even realized was being played.
The realization struck me, a heavy stone sinking in my gut. Osman’s betrothed, Reyna, was the woman I couldn’t tear my thoughts from. She washis. A bitter taste of irony filled my mouth as I mused over the cruel jest fate played on me. Was it not enough that I’d crossed paths with Timehunters and lived to tell the tale? Now, I found myself entangled in feelings for a woman promised to another, shackled by emotions I couldn’t escape.
“Malik.” Zara’s voice snapped me back to reality. “You should leave here and head back. You’ve been here long enough, and they’ll start wondering.”
