Chapter 9 Honey

He entered the room with a tiny smile playing on his face, but it vanished as soon as he saw my clearly vulnerable and tear-stained cheeks. His attractive features were marred by a frown as he approached me. He leaned over my bed and gave me a troubled look. I raised my gaze to him in the hopes that he would notice the obvious hatred I had for him.

"What's wrong, love?" His question was softly spoken, almost like a coo, as though he believed me to be too delicate for casual discussion. I declined to respond to him since I knew it would be pointless and he would never let me go. I would be locked with him here for eternity, suffering apart from all the people I have ever loved, including my parents. Hot wrath burned in my gut at the thought of my parents' tears streaming down their faces, and I felt my eyes well up with hot tears as always when I was angry. Trying to will the tears away, I closed my eyes, but it was too late-he had already seen.

"Baby, please tell me what's wrong." His voice betrayed a desperation that was evident.

His hands reached up to gently clasp my face in his rough, callused grip, and my eyes sprung open. I drew away from his contact and gave him a harsh look.

"Don't touch me." I muttered, practically trembling with disdain, and he flinched back, obviously appalled by my actions.

"I don't understand; why are you so upset?" His eyes were full of disbelief. "I don't want to be here; you've forced me to come here away from my parents and my friends, completely destroying every dream I've ever had and anything I've ever hoped to be." I said, almost shocked at myself, that this wasn't what I was meant to do and that I wasn't meant to enrage him. I had just yelled at him, but he was the most powerful man alive, capable of eliminating the very existence of anyone I had ever cared about with the touch of a finger. What was wrong with me? I was calm and never let my emotions control me.

I was hesitant to glance up at him because I didn't want to see the anger in his eyes. His injuring me was the least of my fears; I didn't want to hear the words he would say or maybe even feel the anguish he would cause me. He could do anything to me, but I knew that if he did anything to someone I loved, I would snap.

But what I saw astounded me beyond belief. He was leaning back onto his knees and staring down, but it was obvious to me that he was in excruciating pain. When he realized that I was staring at him, he glanced up at me, and I could see the sorrow in his eyes. He then closed them for a little while, and when he opened them, nothing was there. They seemed blank, as though the unbearable sorrow inside of them had only been imagined.

"I'm unable to let you go. I swear that I would stop at nothing to make you happy because I need you." Sincerely, he said to me, and I turned to face him, reluctant to respond for fear of causing him pain once more and in case he took action.

"You must be hungry, love; join me for dinner." He inquired, looking closely at my face to see how I would respond.

"I'm not hungry." I said, averting my eyes from him.

"All right, I'll ask the maids to deliver the meal to us. Amara, please don't starve yourself because of me; your health is very essential." With those words, he stood up and made his way to the door.

He returned a little while later, accompanied by a woman who, with her eyes fixed on the floor, wheeled a cart into the room with food heaped on top of it.

"Cynthia, you can leave the tray here. Thank you for your help." The maid gave him a nod in response to what he said before leaving and shutting the door. I refrained from saying anything, even though a part of me wanted to advise her to leave it open so I would have a simple way out if his patience ran out.

I snatched a dish he held out to me, my stomach growling at the sight of food, and it had juicy tomato pasta topped with shredded cheese. With his own plate, he took a seat across from me on the couch.

With him seated in front of me, I was unable to eat, so I put my plate on my knees. He watched me fiddle with my meal for a while, then sighed, put down his own plate, and came over to me.

"Please eat, or I could feed you." I was relieved to see the amusement twirling in his eyes as I stared at him with wide eyes after he stated it gravely.

I responded, "I'll eat," and he smiled a little before going back to his seat.

I tasted the warm spaghetti, and it was quite tasty, but then again, what would one expect from the cooks of a man such as Alaricus Knight?

He said, "Do you like it?" and I gave a nod.

"It's made by my favorite chef; he has worked for me for a very long time now." He replied, and I nodded once more while eating, glancing at my meal.

We ate in silence for the remainder of the dinner, and when we were both finished, he stood up to take my dish and place it on the tray. After he departed once more, the maid, Cynthia, returned a little while later to retrieve the cart. Before dismissing her, Alaricus Knight praised her and urged her to thank the cook for a wonderful supper. She bowed to us both while continuing to stare down, leaving us alone once more.

"You must be tired; I'll leave you alone to rest now." He stood up and walked up to me. Then he kneeled in front of me once more, holding my face in his hands and murmuring softly, "Goodnight, meum miraculum." Before turning around and shutting the door behind him, he said it in a low, velvety voice and glanced at me one more time. His eyes were like melting honey.