Chapter 5: The Fight For My Life

His gigantic hand came around my waist and a second later, I was in his arms. They were all watching us. They were all watching me. The dragons were still flying above the tents but they didn’t seem to care anymore.

My first instinct was to kick and scream and give him hell but the size and strength of his arms made it very clear that he could snap me like a twig. Puncho held the entrance to the tent open and the King led us inside.

It dawned on me then that I didn’t even know his name.

The first thing that registered was the bed. A whole fucking bed that belonged in a house, with white sheets, white pillows, and different kinds of flowers scattered on top of it. The floor in the tent was made of this sleek, black sheet that looked like leather.

He threw me on the bed like a sack of potatoes. Then he stepped away and stood at the edge, his gaze locked on my probably sick looking one, because yeah, I felt sick. My stomach wouldn’t stop turning and I still felt like I wanted to vomit. He removed his shirt and threw it on the floor.

The festivities were still ongoing outside. Like this was completely normal and they didn’t expect me to fight for my honour.

Honour. Did I still even have it at that moment?

Perhaps I lost it the moment Aria and Ronnie sold me off like a packet of scented candles.

Was I even theirs to sell? It didn’t matter. I was here now and I needed a way to get out of this shit hole.

“My King,” a male voice sounded outside the tent entrance. “The food is here.”

Food. The food was here. I hadn’t even thought about food since I got there. Perhaps that was why my stomach was turning? Who would be hungry in that type of situation anyway.

The King kept his eyes on me and removed his shoes, one at a time. Then his dark gaze left me and he walked to the door. He flipped the cloth and a few seconds later, he walked back with a tray of food in his hands.

There were mostly fruits and juice. He placed the tray on the bed and grunted, “Eat.”

I reddened as my stomach growled at the sight of food. There was a plate of steak and vegetables in the center of the small bowls filled with different fruits. My mouth watered. I gave a brief look before reaching for the tray and pulling it to me.

I was taken against my will but starving myself seemed like a dumb idea. How would I run as soon as I saw an opening?

My stomach continued turning as I tried to push the nausea down and took the first bite of the cut mango. The flavour and juice filled my mouth and a moan slipped out of me. I heard him chuckle before he sat on the edge of the bed.

He didn’t eat with me. He watched me the entire time as I gulped down every piece of steak and eat the fruit. A part of me was stalling for time. He didn’t appear to be in much of a hurry. It was like he said to himself I was his tonight and forever and there was nothing I could do about it.

Bella, now would be a great time for you to show yourself. I whispered to myself, in search of my wolf. She didn’t respond.

I was trying to reach for another piece of grapes when his arms reached out and he took the tray.

“Hey, I was eating that,” I muttered.

He completely ignored me and walked to the entrance. I watched him hand the tray to someone, close it, turn, and walk back to the bed, his dark gaze on me. There was no mistaking what was now on his mind.

I braced myself for the fight of my life.

The moment he reached for me, I kicked him. I was aiming for the place between his thighs but my foot connected with his thigh. He caught my ankle and pulled me toward him. I screamed and clawed at his arm, twisting so hard that my dress under underneath me.

“Get off me!” I shouted as loud as my lungs would let me.

He grabbed my wrists before I could hit him again. I fought harder, throwing my weight around and trying to get enough room to kick him again. The bed started shaking beneath us. My hair came loose from some of the pins Mira spent so much time putting in it and one of them dug into my scalp as I struggled.

I managed to free one hand and my nails caught his cheek. He jerked back. I saw the thin red lines appear across his skin.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then I kicked him again. He caught my leg before it could land and shoved it back onto the mattress. I twisted away from him but my head hit the headboard.

Pain exploded through the side of my skull. I cried out and grabbed my head. The headache from earlier came back with a vengeance. It felt like someone had drove a hot piece of metal straight through my skull. My vision blurred for a second.

Not now. Please, not now.

I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the pain to settle, but it only got worse. When I opened them again, he was still there. Just watching me.

There was something in his expression that made my stomach twist. He didn’t look angry. If anything, he looked almost amused by my determination to fight him.

That only made me angrier. “You think this is funny?” I snapped.

What kind of barbaric tradition is this?

He didn’t answer.

I pushed against his chest. He caught both my hands again and held them down. I screamed. The sound disappeared beneath the music outside.

Nobody came. Of course they didn’t. This was their tradition. Their celebration. Their fucking wedding.

I struggled until my arms started shaking.

I stopped fighting. My heart was still pounding and every part of me was screaming that I needed to get away from him.

But fighting wasn’t getting me anywhere. Not when he seemed to enjoy it.

If anything, it was making my head hurt so badly that I could barely think.

I looked at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out what he expected from me. His dark eyes stayed on mine, watching every little movement I made.

Fine.

If this was what he wanted, I would give him something to believe. I relaxed my hands and stopped trying to pull away. His grip loosened almost immediately, but his eyes stayed on mine as if he was waiting for me to change my mind.

I moved closer instead. I hated that my body was shaking, but I forced myself to stay still and let him believe that I finally accepted what was happening.

His hand settled around my waist. I closed my eyes when he kissed me.

I had imagined my first kiss so many times but never like this. Never in a tent surrounded by strangers who were waiting outside to hear whether their King had fully claimed his new Queen.

The kiss wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t what I expected either. My fingers curled against his shirt as I tried to convince myself that I was still in control of the situation, even though I knew full well that I wasn’t.

My head was still throbbing, the pain slowly becoming unbearable.

I pulled back and blinked several times.

The tent seemed like it was moving. I swallowed hard and pressed a hand against my forehead. I had to breathe through my mouth to keep from throwing up.

The King looked at me.

I tried to focus on his face, but his features kept becoming blurry. Something was very wrong. I reached for his shoulder, intending to push him away, but my arm suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He placed his hand on my forehead and said something I couldn’t make out.

His other hand was still around my waist. I wanted to move. I wanted to fight. I wanted to get away from him. But my body wasn’t listening anymore. My fingers slipped from his shirt.

The last thing I remember was the warmth against my skin, the pounding inside my skull and the terrifying realization that I couldn’t keep my eyes open before everything went black.