I shuddered, holding on for dear life to the chair I had jumped out of. "I'll be here," I promised.
His eyes bored into mine. He didn't say another word, but the warning was unmistakable. Then he left, closing the door.
I sank into the chair. My elbows on the table shook as I leaned my face into my hands and broke out into noisy sobs. What was I supposed to do?
Loud voices from below that I couldn't understand rose up through the wooden floor. Vardor's voice was unmistakable, and I was sure he was yelling at the proprietor. The urge to leave, to run and hide or call for the Watch hit me like a tidal wave. Before I knew what I was doing, I was by the door, holding the knob between my shaking fingers.Run, Ro, run, every part of me urged me on. But I stood frozen.What if?
What if hedidfind me? I had seen him fight. Only an army could hold him back.It doesn't matter, the rational part of mybrain advised. Thomas and my father will have already filed reports with the Watch. Given the earlier scene at the church, the men looking for me would no doubt be equipped with firearms. My father would make sure of it. Even if he had to buy the weapons himself. For now, I was still his prized possession.
No matter how strong Vardor might be, he wouldn't be able to hold out against a hail of bullets.
Fortified with those encouraging thoughts, I ripped the door open. At first, I tiptoed forward. The voices had stopped. The loud banging of a door made my heart skip a beat, but I was sure Vardor slammed it. There was no holding me back after that. I pulled up my skirts and ran down the stairs, past a maid on her way up with a tray of lighter-looking bread, cuts of meat, and cheese. My stomach grumbled at the sight, but the urge to run was greater. I rushed by her and a startled-looking proprietor. I grabbed the door to the outside and swung it open. The sounds of an awakening city greeted me, horses whinnied, people argued and laughed. A pig rushed by, as well as a loud rooster chasing a hen. All that I only registered on the periphery, though. My mind was filled with one word: Free!
I stepped out onto the cobblestoned street, not stopping. My feet were still running, but on air, not rocks, as strong hands suddenly grabbed me by the waist and propelled me off the ground.
"No!" I screeched.
"Hush, or I will have to kill anybody who hears you," his deep voice threatened.
Tears flooded my sight. So close. I had been so close. He carried me back inside. The proprietor stood gaping at us. Vardor ignored him, and since I didn't dare make a sound, the old man retreated back into the dining area where the Watchmen still sat. One looked up at us, then elbowed the other and said something I couldn't hear. The other laughed when heturned and saw Vardor carrying me up.Nothing to see. Just your daily spousal abuse, I thought bitterly.
"Well, that looks better than the slop they brought up before," Vardor said, kicking the door shut behind us when his eyes fell on the tray the maid had brought up.
"Do you want to eat or bathe?" he asked me as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just plucked me up while I was trying to run from him.
My appetite was gone. My throat was so choked shut I doubted I would be able to swallow anything.
"Bathe," I said.
He motioned toward the tub.
I stared at him.
"I'm not leaving you again," he announced. But he did turn his back to me.
My clothes were still damp, and with the window open, the room's stuffiness had dispersed, leaving a chill in the air that reminded me of how cold I still was. The water in the tub wasn't steaming anymore, but my hand dipped into it told me that it was just right and would be heavenly.
I stared at Vardor's back. His hands moved from the table to his mouth. He was fully engrossed in the cheese and meat. I had never undressed in front of a man before, not even one with his back turned to me. Torn between the desire to dive into the warm water and get rid of the chill in my bones and fear of the man sitting only a few feet from me, I stared from one to the other.
My fingers shook as I reached behind me. The pearl buttons were tiny, and I wasn't able to get a grip on any of them. They slipped between my fingers, and a frustrated sob escaped me.
"What's wrong?" Vardor turned.
"I can't... I can't unbutton this dress," I managed as more tears spilled out of me.
He rose, and rose, and rose from the chair. This man was massive. Instinctively, I took a step back as he moved forward until he towered over me. Large, callused hands grabbed my shoulders and gently turned me around.
"What in the name of the plagues is this?" he cursed as he pulled on one of the buttons.
The sound of ripping material was loud, followed by a cacophony of clink, clink, clinks as my pearl buttons flew all over the wooden floor.
"There." He muttered.
Over my shoulder, my gaze followed him back to the table, where he pulled the chair around so his back was once again to me. Good grief, he had just torn my dress to shreds.
The food was bad, but it was better than nothing. It had been a while since I had eaten, but the comfort food usually brought me didn't come. Something I couldn't entirely blame on what was served. The reason for my discontent was the sound of splashing in the water behind me. She was trying to be quiet, but every time she moved, I heard the sound of rushing water. In my mind, I could see her raising one of her alabaster legs out of the tub and gently moving a washcloth over it, and it was making my mouth water for other things than food.
How often had I kissed those legs? From the tips of her toes all the way down to her womanly folds? Vaelora taught me things I had never done before. Before Vaelora, I rutted women; with her, it was an art. She showed me what she enjoyed, and before long, her pleasure was mine. Without her, I would have never known about the delicious ambrosia waiting between her legs. Or the feeling of full breasts under my hands, not to knead them hard—well, she had enjoyed that too, every now and then—but to fully experience the silkiness of flesh beneath my palm. The way her nipples puckered and tasted. Only after her did I realize how rough I had been with the other women. Not that they had ever complained, but a small feeling of guilt nagged at me. I had never taken a woman against her will. They all had come to me willingly, even before I became High Warlord of Orasis. Still, Vaelora had changed me. She taught me the finearts of fucking, arts I hadn't known existed, and I had been an eager pupil.
