Chained To Him [Editing]

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jayde stirred as the arm around her shifted, trailing fingers across her shoulder. She had been dreaming, not of some memory, but of a time that never existed, growing up alongside Luc in a free Aésadel where her parents still lived.

"Luc," she sighed, and she imagined his face as it had been in the dream, younger than he was now as if he'd never been taken. She opened her eyes as her mind lurched to awareness, and she fought to keep from lashing out at the man that held her now. When she looked up, Aragon was staring back at her.

"Are you surprised to see me?"

"I was dreaming," she murmured. It was partially true. But each time that she woke up in a bed that was not her own, her mind would reel to remember who had taken her the night before, Greywood or Aragon. When it was Luc, the relief that flooded through her was enough to make tears stick in her throat. When it was Aragon, it was as if her mind couldn't stop spinning.

"I'm surprised you're still thinking of that boy." His fingers worked gently through a tangle in her hair as he stroked her head. She wondered if to him she was something a little less than human, a pet to keep around for entertainment or a warm body to kick. Jayde said nothing, for there was no answer that she could give that would satisfy him. So often his words were a trap, and she had learned to stay quiet and press her body closer to his.

They bathed together and he washed her hair, in the same tub where she had prepared herself for him many times those years ago. He hadn't bruised her too badly this time, but she could still feel the places where the hot water lapped over tender skin. Enough for Luc to see when he had her in a couple days. By now she was certain that it was intentional, that Aragon was writing a message in bruises meant for Greywood. It was impossible to make sense of Aragon's intentions regarding the other man. Long ago he had talked as if being chosen by Greywood would be a fitting punishment, and now he his mood would sour at the very notion of Greywood taking an interest in her. Perhaps he'd realized that it wasn't the punishment he'd thought. Or, perhaps he didn't want to share her anymore. She couldn't linger on that thought; what would happen to her if he decided to keep her for himself, or take her away from Aésadel altogether? It would be hopeless. And so when Greywood's name was mentioned in Aragon's presence, Jayde made sure to make him believe that she belonged only to him, that her mind was not torn for another.

"Would you like to visit the garden again?" He watched her dress and comb her hair, and she pretended not to shrink under his gaze.

"I would," she said softly, a pit already forming in her stomach.

"You don't sound very excited." He smiled and took the comb from her, brushing her hair and braiding it in the way he liked.

"I've been looking forward to going again." This kindness, too, would have a catch. Perhaps Luc would be in the garden again, or perhaps he planned to hurt her when they returned. She knew better than to lower her defenses now; Aragon could always tell when she had, and he seemed to take pleasure in exploiting those weak moments.

But he did seem particularly lighthearted this morning, and when he had finished braiding her hair he turned her gently to look at him. Sometimes when he was so close to her, it was hard to recognize him for who he really was. He could be so soft and attentive – but whether it was genuine or a careful act she could never tell.

"What's that look?" His lip quirked at the expression on her face and he traced the edge of her jaw with his finger, from ear to chin.

She didn't answer at first, and then suddenly she recognized the softness in his face and the ease of his shoulders. He was content. How could a man who seemed to be so fueled by rage and cruelty seem so at peace? Was it possible to spread so much misery without becoming miserable yourself? "Are you happy?"