AMELIA
My brows furrow as I awaken to the intoxicating scent that has become synonymous with my mate. Slowly opening my eyes, I discover my head cradled against a familiar chest-Nickolas’s chest. Confusion sets in as I survey my surroundings, realizing I’m in Nickolas’s room. Questions flood my mind: How did I end up here? Did Nickolas rescue me? The realization dawns upon me as I notice my wounds have been carefully tended to. He must have, but even if he did, it doesn’t explain why we are cuddled up together.
Nickolas stirs in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open.
“You’re awake,” he exclaims, his eyes lighting up with an intensity that catches me off guard. Confusion clouds my expression as I attempt to shift away from between his legs, but Nickolas gently stops me. His hand moves into my hair, pulling me back to bring my face inches away from his. My brows knit together in bewilderment. What’s he doing?
“Beatrice said it would take days before you wake up. I can’t believe you did so soon,” he reveals, his beautiful green eyes filled with a profound sense of relief. Relief? I raise my brows in response, choosing to keep my thoughts unspoken for the moment.
“Are you hungry?” he inquires, releasing my hair and rising from the bed.
“Yes,” I respond. I can’t recall the last time I had a proper meal. I’m starving.
“I will ask Beatrice to bring something right away,” he declares, reaching for his phone and dialing her number.
“Can I shower?” I inquire once he concludes the call.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” I gently climb out of bed, my muscles protesting as I move. My wounds might have been treated, but they are healing slowly, and I’m not surprised. I haven’t felt Marie since I woke up. I haven’t even felt her for days. Tears sting the back of my eyes, remembering our last encounter. Her breath was shallow, and our connection faded slowly as she did everything to keep us alive. I hastily wipe them away, not wanting to reveal the emotional turmoil within. My whole body aches and my legs feel like they weigh a ton as I move them. My feet barely touch the ground for more than a minute before Nickolas effortlessly lifts me into his arms. Confusion paints my expression as he carries me to the bathroom, gently placing me on the toilet seat. He begins filling the tub with water and herbs. I bet Beatrice must’ve left for me. He walks back to me and makes me stand.
“Why?” I ask, struggling to stand on my own two feet, every inch of my body aching.
“Hand up,” Nickolas directs, and I comply. My eyes widen as he lifts my dress over my head.
“I can do it myself,” I protest, grabbing my dress to cover my nakedness. Nickolas has seen me naked, but that was before I was kidnapped. Right now, I don’t even want to look at my body.
Nickolas pays no heed to my protest and swiftly removes the dress from my grasp, casting it aside. I don’t try to stop him again, an internal conflict brewing within me, torn between the desire to shield myself and the curiosity of wanting to know what he thinks of my body now. Observing him, I expect to see a disdainful gaze, but instead, I am met with the burning embers of rage. His eyes redden with anger, and his clenched fist speaks volumes.
Tears well up, my heart breaking. He must be pissed off; he has to be mated to someone whose body looks like mine. I know the wounds and burn marks will heal with time, but with Marie in a coma, I can’t say if they won’t leave a scar.
Nickolas tenderly lifts me off the floor, carrying me to the tub, but his departure is swift. Tears escape my eyes as I watch his retreating back, realizing that he can’t even bear to look at me.
In the silence that follows, I can’t suppress the question that escapes my lips. What did I do to be cursed with such a mate? He is the reason I was kidnapped, and he can’t even look at me after what I went through because of him. I blame Nickolas for what happened to me. I wouldn’t have been a threat to Ember if he didn’t pretend we were sleeping together. I hate him. All he has done since I met him is cause me one heartbreak or another, and this time, he caused me physical pain. I just wish he could fucking accept my rejection and free me from this torture. Frustration consumes me, and I scream into the bathroom wall, venting my exhaustion. I’m tired-so tired. Angry tears trace down my face, my heart constricting with hatred. “I hate you. I fucking hate you, Nickolas.”
***
I emerge from Nickolas’s closet, adorned in his clothes. As he enters with a food tray, a surge of hatred simmers within me. My body aches, and my wolf might never wake up again, all because of him. A part of me contemplates ending my suffering by killing him, yet the mate bond holds me back. If only he would accept my rejection, I’d be free.
Nickolas places the tray on his study table, taking a seat behind his desk. Seating myself opposite him, I raise the spoon but halt. The last time he offered food, I ended up having symptoms of pregnancy, and it nearly cost me my life. I push the tray away. I am never eating anything he gives me again. I would rather starve.
“Is something wrong with the food?” he calmly asks, an unexpected change from his usual harsh tone.
“I won’t know,” I retort, unable to hide the anger simmering within.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he inquires, still maintaining an unusual calm.
“I don’t feel like eating anymore,” I declare, standing up to leave.
“What do you mean you don’t feel like eating anymore, and where the fuck are you going?” he demands, jolting from his chair.
“I’d like to go to my room and rest, if that’s okay with you,” I reply, facing the door, avoiding eye contact.
“Amelia,” he says, his footsteps approaching. Turning me to face him, he gazes into my eyes with an unfamiliar concern. Is this truly Nickolas before me?
“Amelia,” he says, approaching me as I reach for the door. Turning me around to meet his gaze with an unfamiliar concern. Is this truly Nickolas before me?
“Is something wrong?” He asks.
“I think you’re asking the wrong question,” I retort, ignoring the turmoil in his eyes.
“Excuse me?” he asks, puzzled.
“Can I go?” I inquire again, attempting to keep my anger in check, knowing any outburst could worsen our already strained situation.
Before he can respond, his phone rings, offering a brief distraction. Seizing the opportunity, I open the door to leave. I don’t look back, even though I feel his eyes on me. Walking downstairs to the maid’s quarters, I distance myself from him, seeking solace as far away as possible.
Entering the maid’s quarters hallway, confusion grips me as people carry my belongings in and out of my room. Desperate for answers, I stop a maid, but she ignores me. Rushing into my room, I find Beatrice by the wardrobe, sorting clothes.
“What’s going on, Beatrice?” I question, approaching her.
“Amelia!” She startles, wide-eyed. “What are you doing out of bed?” She guides me to her bed, concern etched across her face.
“I needed some to get away from someone,” I confess truthfully.
“Who? But that’s not even important. I can’t believe he let you out of bed. I will have a serious conversation with him once I am done here,” she declares. Her unexpected concern warms my heart, knowing Beatrice seldom displays emotions, making her sincerity palpable.
“He didn’t, and you still didn’t answer my question.”
“Sorry about that. You’re moving out.”
“Moving out… To where?” my eyes widen, processing the sudden news.
“To your new room. Come, let me show you,” she insists, linking my arm with hers and lifting me off the bed.
“Is he sending me back to the dungeon?” Fear creeps in. The thought lingers that he may not be aware of my kidnapping and might send me there as punishment for escaping, even though I returned barely alive.
“Oh, Heavens! No,” Beatrice assures, leading us upstairs.
“Where then?”
“Next door to his majesty,” she reveals as we reach the third floor.
“What?” I stop abruptly.
“Next door…” I cut her off.
“I heard you,” I respond, closing my eyes and exhaling. When I desire distance from him, Nickolas decides to fucking move me next door. What sick joke are you playing on me, Nickolas?
“Is something wrong?” Beatrice asks, observing me closely.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I say with a forced smile.
“Alright, let’s go in then,” she urges, and we enter the room.
Why is this happening? Living next door to him makes it even harder to ignore his presence.
“What do you think?” Beatrice asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turn to face her, intending to lie and say I like it, but my words get stuck in my throat. My face drains of color as I realize Nickolas has walked into the room from an adjoining door. An adjoined door? I’m left speechless, wondering how things could have taken such an unexpected turn from bad to worse.