Chapter 11

I was still trapped beneath that dark, intense gaze. I couldn't tell whether Commander John Chase could see the horror and shame filling my thoughts and heart in the dim light of the room, and if he could, what did it make him feel?

He took a deep breath.

“Don't know what to say, Princess?” Chase asked.

I sighed at the inevitable.

“How can I look into your eyes without seeing the blood you spilled?”

“And for whom did I spill that blood?” the Commander asked.

His question was completely unfair. I had never asked anyone to fight for my hand.

“How dare you try to put that blood on my hands? You killed for power!” I shouted at him.

Suddenly, his hands shoved me backward onto the bed, his weight pressing me into the mattress. I gasped, struggling to breathe, but then his mouth claimed mine again. This time, with more aggression, his hands slipped beneath my dress, drawing a horrified scream from me.

Was he really going to do this?

I tried to resist, turning my face away from his kiss, but he simply moved his lips to the exposed skin of my neck. My heart raced wildly at what was about to happen, and I had no control over it.

His hands traveled up the bare skin of my thigh, his fingers gripping my flesh far too tightly. He gasped against my neck when his fingers reached the most intimate part of me, and my entire body went rigid beneath his touch.

I couldn't speak or move beneath the overwhelming weight of his body. Before I knew it, I was trembling. Suddenly, the Commander stopped and pulled his hands from beneath my dress. Slowly, he looked into my eyes, and what I saw there frightened me.

He didn't look like himself.

His eyes glowed with an intense bluish hue. He turned his face away and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, they were as black as night.

John sat up on the bed. For several seconds, I remained lying there, still paralyzed by what he had just done.

I thought he was going to say something, but he didn't. He simply stood and walked over to a small sofa. I sat up and watched him settle into it. With one last look in my direction, he closed his eyes and remained completely still.

I spent several minutes watching his relaxed body on the sofa, wondering whether he was truly asleep, until I finally lay down myself, still watching him.

Then, at some point, as I studied every detail of his face, he murmured:

“Stop looking at me like that, or I'll exercise my rights as your husband.”

I froze.

So he was awake, but he had given up on forcing anything that night. Why?

When I heard his words, I quickly closed my eyes and, little by little, allowed sleep to take me.

When I woke, someone was knocking insistently on the door. As I opened my eyes, I looked around the room.

I was alone.

“Come in.”

“Good morning, ma'am,” the maids said.

They brought water for my bath and a breakfast tray, which I greatly appreciated. My head was throbbing terribly.

I got up and sat at the table where they had arranged fruits, juice, milk, bread, and cakes. While Mary, Lydia's daughter, made the bed, I saw the maids' reactions as they lifted the sheet before I could stop them from discovering what hadn't happened the night before.

But when Mary lifted the mattress, a red stain on the white fabric was completely visible to everyone, and the maids suppressed little giggles.

I stared at the sheet in shock. Then I looked down at my own body and was horrified to realize that I was no longer wearing my wedding dress. Instead, I was wearing a white silk nightgown.

My stomach twisted at the thought of what had happened the night before.

Had he done that to me?

“Where is my husband?”

“He was in the gardens, ma'am, with a messenger from your country.”

“I want you to call him immediately!”

The maids hurried out, confused by my temper. As soon as the door closed, I rushed back to the bed and ran my fingers over the red stain on the sheet. I smelled them and confirmed that it was blood.

I tried to remember the night before. I had gone to sleep while he was lying on the sofa. My memories after that were nothing but a meaningless blur.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and I stared at Commander Chase. He was dressed in dark clothes with blue details. His black eyes met mine, and the sunlight coming through the window illuminated his face.

“BASTARD!” I shouted at him.

Chase raised an eyebrow and closed the door behind him. Then he turned his gaze back to me and smiled.

“Good morning to you too, wife.”

I grabbed the bloodstained sheet from the bed and threw it at him. He caught it.

“What does this mean? You violated me! I don't even remember it, but there is the PROOF!”

“I don't have time for your maiden tantrums,” he retorted, throwing the sheet back.

He was turning to leave the room when I rushed to the table and, without thinking, grabbed a plate of cake and hurled it at him. Without even looking back, he dodged it, and the plate smashed against the door with a loud crash.

“HAVE YOU GONE MAD?”

He turned toward me, completely furious, but no more furious than I was.

“YES, COMMANDER! I HAVE!” I shouted, grabbing another plate and throwing it at him.

He dodged again.

I grabbed cups of milk and hurled them at him, but the bastard was far too fast. He dodged them and lunged toward me.

“THAT'S ENOUGH!” he ordered, gripping my shoulders tightly.

I struggled against him and was thrown onto the bed. He climbed over me and pinned my hands above my head, his black, onyx eyes locked onto mine.

“Get off me!” I shouted furiously.

Once again, I was reminded of just how much stronger he was than me. Even though I was furious at his disgraceful behavior, I couldn't even free my hands from his iron grip.

Damn Commander Chase!