Chapter 4 Journey To His Place

Blue's POV

"Bride?" I mumbled, my breath catching in my throat and causing intense pain. "Stop playing with me!"

"You think I'm playing?" he asked.

"You are. I don't trust you."

"I can't make you trust me right away. But you will very soon," he said, his voice calm but confident.

"I don't want to come with you," I said, looking pleadingly at him.

"Don't make me force you, Blue," he sighed.

I looked around at the dark surroundings, the sound of the wind mingling with the hammering of my heart and his hushed breathing. I had no idea what to do or whom to put my trust in. But there was something about him that made me think I could try to trust him.

"Just give me a chance. You won't regret trusting me," he said gently.

I locked my gaze on him, intently studying him. I nodded after a while. Even I was puzzled as to why I had been accepted so quickly.

"Let's go then," he said and offered me his hand. I studied his hand for a moment before slipping my small hand into his large, firm one. His hand was warm like a candle lit from a distance. It took a few moments for my skin to acclimatize to this new sensation.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked.

"To my place."

"Your place? Don't mind my harsh talking, but anyway, you have a lot of money that you... ok, so where do you live? You said we have to walk ten minutes inside the forest. But I mean, as you have a lot of money, you can live in a big town in a very comfortable mansion or something like that. You don't have to live in a forest cabin, I guess. Is it a personal preference or something?"

"Who said I live in a forest cabin?" he asked

in a way as if he was amused by my confused state.

"You live in a forest. So that must be..."

"I don't live in a forest, sweet Blue. You'll see in a while. My place is enough for us," he said smiling.

"Then where?"

"You'll see. Come on now."

He suddenly took off the long coat he was wearing. It was black and appeared to be made of high-quality fabric. When I saw him before, he was not wearing that coat. Perhaps he had taken that off when he came here, and then he put it on again.

Before I knew what was going on, he had wrapped the coat around me. As I was wearing a short-sleeved long shirt with my shorts, his knuckles brushed over the exposed skin of my upper arm. Goosebumps appeared all over my body when my skin came into contact with his.

"What... what are you..."

"It's raining. You'll catch a cold," he said normally as if it was nothing but common sense. Perhaps it was, but this act of common sense stood out to me. No one had ever given a damn if I was dying, let alone a simple cold.

"Don't you need it?" I asked.

"No. I don't catch a cold," he replied.

"Thank you," I mumbled.

"Don't thank me for this little thing, my bride.

Or you'll get sick thanking me," he said, smiling at me. His smile was not overly broad, but rather a small curl of his brownish pink lips, frigid but full of unspoken feelings.

He led me deep into the forest, his coat, keeping raindrops off my skin. However, my face and hair were wet. He had my hand in his, and for some reason, it gave me butterflies in my stomach.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" he asked.

"Marrying me? Why do you want to marry me?" I asked.

To my surprise, he chuckled. "Because I want

to."

"But why? You're good-looking. You can have any girl. I don't think a girl with a bruised body will be a good match for you," I muttered.

"Hey, look at me," he said, and I obliged.

"Since the moment I laid my eyes on you, I wanted you."

"When did you see me first?" I asked in a shaky tone.

"A long time ago."

"When?"

He did not answer me, but kept walking, not so fast as if he was walking like that for me. It felt a strange walking hand in hand with a stranger who turned out to be far too handsome to handle.

The scent of fresh raindrops on the ground filled my nostrils. But it was not the smell that made me dizzy. A hallucinogenic deep masculine smell had been emitting from him, making me want to sniff him, pressing my nose on his skin.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Call me Demetrius," he replied.

It seemed like an ancient name, but very handsome. I liked it but also wondered what it would feel like to say his name. Would it vibrate in my mouth? Would I be able to say it properly or mess up in the middle because of overthinking?

I wanted to ask him a lot of things, but I was not sure if I should. What if he got annoyed

and decided to punish me or something like that? I did not want to be struck again.

"Blue, you can ask me anything you want. You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm your soon-to-be husband. There's no need to fear me. At least, not you," he said as if he could read my mind. I was curious as to what he meant by at least not you.' Did others fear him a lot? It was true that he appeared cold as if staring at him for an extended period would cause one to freeze to death. But, based on how he spoke to me, his appearance appeared to be the polar opposite of his words.

"Ask me," he urged gently again.

"Do you live alone?"

"No. My family lives with me and there are servants as well."

I could not tell if what he was saying was true. That many people would necessitate a large space. Where exactly did he live?

"Here," he said.

I noticed that we had arrived in what appeared to be a very dark place, full of trees and shadows and the sound of small animals running over small branches, making snapping noises.

"You live here?" I asked.

"You'll see, my bride," he said with a smile.

I blushed suddenly at his word. He was being way too gentle with me and even calling me his bride even though we met a few minutes ago.

No, I met him a few minutes ago. But he did not. He said he had seen me a long time ago.

Was he stalking me? But how was that possible? He was probably twenty-four or twenty-five, not more than that.

"Um... can I ask you something?" I hesitated.

"Yes, my bride."

I gasped once more at this word but quickly straightened myself out before making a fool of myself. "How old are you?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know... perhaps twenty-five..."

"Close. I'm twenty-four," he replied.

So he was seven years older than me. Perhaps a little less than seven years, as I was just two days away from turning eighteen. The age difference was neither too great nor too little.

"Is it unsettling?"

"What?"

"The age gap?"

"No. 1.... I just..."

"It's okay. I'm not too old I guess," he remarked, and I couldn't help but smile. His lips curved into a smile as well. It was perfect; the way his lips curved, his dimple appeared on his left cheek, and his eyes softened.

Everything seemed to be making me feel different.

There was a Coast Douglas-fir in front of us. Both in width and height, the tree was enormous.

"Coast Douglas-fir," I murmured.

"Yes. How do you know it?" he asked. I was surprised. I said it so quietly, almost not making a sound. But he still heard me. How?

"I read about it. It is also known as Douglas spruce, Oregon pine, and Pacific Douglas-fir.

It is a species of evergreen conifer native to western North America, ranging from west central British Columbia in Canada to central California in the United States. Its range in Oregon and Washington extends from the Cascades crest west to the Pacific Coast Ranges and the Pacific Ocean. It can be found in the Klamath and California Coast Ranges as far south as the Santa Lucia Mountains, with a small stand in the Purisima Hills, Santa Barbara County. It can be found as far south as Yosemite in the Sierra Nevada. It ranges in elevation from near sea level along the coast to 1,800 meters in the California Mountains.

O "And...," I explained. "Oh, I'm sorry. I actually could not... stop myself. I have this bad habit of talking about something I know. I'm sorry."