I wake up, my hands ache, a silent reminder of the events of the previous night. Nickolas has removed the blindfold, but my hands remain bound to the headboard above me. I turn my head to the other side of the bed, searching for any sign of him, but it’s empty.
A pang of emptiness washes over me, though I can’t say I’m entirely surprised. I knew deep down that waking up to an empty bed was inevitable after last night. Part of me longs for his presence, even as I remind myself that his touch was born out of duty rather than desire. Tears well up in my eyes as I grapple with the harsh reality of my situation.
I sniffle softly, a single tear escaping as I come to terms with the fact that this is now my life-a life filled with longing and unfulfilled desires. I wish things could be different, but I know deep down that they can’t.
The urge to relieve myself draws my attention, and I shift uncomfortably, wondering why Nickolas didn’t uncuff my hands before he left.
As I lie in bed, my hands still bound to the headboard, I rack my brain for any possible way to free myself from my restraints. With each passing moment, the urgency to relieve myself grows, and I pray fervently that my bladder won’t betray me before I can find a solution.
Frustration mounts as I come up empty-handed, unable to find anything nearby that could aid in my escape. Desperate for distraction, I turn my thoughts to my family-their well-being, their safety. I hope and pray that they have received the medical treatment they need and are on the path to recovery.
But amidst my concerns for them, another thought lingers-a silent plea that they do not attempt to rescue me. The last thing I want is for them to put themselves in harm’s way by trying to save me. As long as Nickolas remains unaware of their whereabouts, I stand a chance of surviving this ordeal. Their rescue would only serve to deliver them into the hands of my mate on a silver platter.
The urgency to relieve myself reaches a critical point; I can no longer suppress the desperate need clawing at my insides. With no other options left, I summon all the courage I can muster and scream out Nickolas’s name, heedless of the consequences that may follow.
The sound of the door bursting open causes me to jump, but I find myself face-to-face with Nickolas, water dripping down his chest. My heart sinks as I realize that I must have inadvertently spilled his tea on him in my frantic outburst. Not only have I called him by his name, but I’ve also managed to drench him in the process.
A sense of dread washes over me as I brace myself for his inevitable wrath. I fear that he will be furious with me for my impudence, and the thought of facing his anger fills me with a sense of dread. It seems that I may have sealed my fate even before the humiliating act of wetting the bed can occur.
I part my lips to explain why I called him as he scans the room for danger, likely assuming that’s the reason for my earlier scream. However, my words fade away as I find myself completely distracted by the sight of him standing before me.
My mouth hangs open as my body forgets entirely that I was on the verge of peeing on my bed, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the man in front of me.
My gaze lingers on his chiseled abs, visible through his wet shirt, and I can’t help but trace the lines with my eyes, feeling a heat ignite within me at the sight. Pulling my knees together, I continue to drink in his appearance, admiring the breadth of his shoulders and the definition of his biceps. He’s so incredibly hot and handsome, with his beautiful green eyes and perfectly chiseled jawline. Such a sad thing he’s the enemy.
“Amelia,” he calls, pulling me from thoughts of eye fucking him.
“Yes?” I respond, finally tearing my gaze away from his captivating body.
“Why the fuck did you scream my name like that?” he demands, his irritation evident in his tone.
“I need to pee,” I blurt out, squeezing my thighs together in a desperate attempt to suppress the urgent need that had momentarily slipped my mind in the midst of my distraction.
“Oh, give me a second to get the key,” Nickolas says before leaving the room. He returns swiftly with the key in hand, and I briefly consider asking him why he didn’t unlock it before he left, but I decide against it, knowing him too well.
Once he’s done freeing me from the cuffs, Nickolas suddenly lifts me off the bed. “You don’t have to carry me. I’m feeling better today,” I protest gently as he carries me into the bathroom, his scent enveloping me like a warm blanket.
“I didn’t ask you if you were,” Nickolas retorts as he places me on the toilet seat.
As I sit there, expecting him to leave, Nickolas surprises me by remaining in the bathroom with me. Raising a questioning brow at him, I wonder why he’s still here.
“Why aren’t you peeing?” he asks, his question catching me off guard and leaving me momentarily speechless. I stare at him with widened eyes, shocked that he would even ask such a thing.
“I am waiting for you to leave,” I reply, stating the obvious in hopes that he’ll take the hint.
“Why?” he presses, still not getting it, which continues to surprise me, but then it’s Nickolas.
“Because…” I begin, but my words falter, unable to articulate why I find it uncomfortable to have him present while I use the bathroom. “Can you wait outside while I use the bathroom?” I finally ask, hoping he’ll understand my discomfort and respect my privacy.
“No!” His reply is curt, leaving no room for argument.
“But I can’t. What if I need to…” I trail off, unable to voice the embarrassing possibility that I might need to use the bathroom for more than just urinating.
“Need to what?” he prompts, the crease between his brows deepening as he scrutinizes my reaction.
“You know,” I mutter, feeling my face flush with embarrassment. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with Nickolas.
“What?” he demands, his tone bordering on annoyance.
“What if I need to… fucking poo?” I blurt out, unable to contain my embarrassment any longer. Closing my eyes, I brace myself for his reaction, feeling utterly mortified by the situation.
“Oh…” His response is unexpected, and he moves closer to me, bending down to grab my chin gently.
“Once you are done freshening up, come to my room. Don’t disappear anywhere. Do you hear me?” he instructs, his tone firm but strangely protective.
“Yes,” I reply, meeting his gaze and wondering why he’s suddenly acting so possessive.
“Good. See you once you are done, little one,” he murmurs, placing a soft kiss on my forehead before straightening up and leaving the bathroom, leaving me to ponder his behavior in confusion.
Sitting on the toilet seat, I couldn’t shake the shock of what had just happened. Nickolas, in a sudden and unexpected move, had not only called me by the nickname he gave me yesterday but also planted a tender kiss on my forehead. The mixture of confusion, disbelief, and a hint of warmth lingered in the air, leaving me utterly bewildered. Was Nickolas unwell? Or was there something deeper at play?
Unable to answer these questions myself, I decide to just bathe for now. But even under the soothing stream of hot water in the shower, my mind continued to race with questions. Each droplet seemed to echo the tumultuous thoughts swirling within me. What did his actions mean? Why would he show such unexpected tenderness? The steam enveloped me, mirroring the fog of uncertainty clouding my mind.