Chapter 3 3

Her chest contracted as she went back over his words in her head. Amaya, you will see soon enough. Protecting what remains of your family simply requires this. Her body shivered at the remembrance of his speech, but the underlying truth in his voice more chilled her. Indeed, he was correct. There remained just one choice.

She couldn't rid her heart of the sense of betrayal, though, as the weight of the choice sank down on her. She had given her future, her independence, away. On the altar of family obligation, she had offered herself. But what about her life personally? Her own delight? That was of less importance now.

At her sides, Amaya's fingers curled into fists as her reflection seemed to ridicule her, accusing her of forsaking all she had ever believed in. She considered what had she done? It was not intended to be like this. She was meant not to be here, negotiating with a man like Rylan beneath his shadow.

Unseen, a tear ran down her cheek as she battled to swallow the lump in her throat. Not now could one go back. She made a definitive decision. No rescue, no hero in shining armorwould result. No matter how deeply her decision split her within, she had to pay for it.

She murmured loudly, "What have I done?" her voice breaking as though the words themselves had cracked something deep inside her. One last time in the mirror, she gazed at herself looking for any evidence of the person she used to be before Rylan. Before the obligation. Before to our marriage.

Though meant to make her look like a princess, the garment felt like a straightjacket. It was stunning. Running her fingers along the cloth, Amaya felt the smoothness of the fabric under her touch, but all she could think about was the jail it stood for.

Her father's words kept coming back to her, pushing her to go forward and save the family. But deep within, a tempest of bitterness and hopelessness raged. She had been thrown into a world she knew nothing about, one in which a man unconcerned about her controlled her body, soul, even basic life. She was merely a pawn in his game; he desired her for personal motives.

Her ideas were broken off by the gentle click of the door opening. Her father came into the room with a mixed-feeling pride and sorrow. Though it didn't reach his eyes, he flashed her a little smile. Though his gesture was gentle and caring, his hands shook slightly as he changed her veil. His posture clearly revealed tension.

Quietly, he whispered, "Amaya," his voice strained. "I understand you wanted something else. But you have done the correct thing. I shall always be thanksful for this. Guilt permeated his words, the implicit weight of the choice she had taken bearing on both of them.

As Amaya nodded her throat closed. She stammered. She wondered what she would say. Nothing could alter the current reality of events. Turning back was not an option.

The ceremony itself was a haze of hollow motions and practiced grins. Amaya was caught even as they stood before the officiant. Rylan stood next her, his tall body emanating strength and dominance, his hand tightly clutching hers as if to tell her she belonged to him now. Their comments seemed to her like chains tightening with every second.

But Amaya felt it, the weight of Rylan's dominance, his claim on her, when his palm clenched around hers during the vows. His touch revealed no warmth or love. It was just a deal. A commercial agreement. She also understood that this was what she had become, nothing more than a tool in his hands, as she sensed the chill of his hold.

The vows arrived; his voice was detached and suave, her own weak and shaking. She refused to look at him. She had chosen, but it did not follow that she had to live with it. Not now.

Amaya's stomach turned over when the officiant called them husband and wife, but there was no time for sentiment. Once more, Rylan's hold on her hand tightened, dragging her toward their future and the exit.

Her head ran back over the ceremony, her own vows, the icy touch of Rylan. She struggled to think clearly and to breathe. This was her punishment, not only a wedding. And there was no way off.

She looked at Rylan across the room. Although their relationship was instantaneous and electric, it was everything from loving. His eyes were as frigid as they had always been, and his look felt as weighty as a tangible force keeping her in place. He seemed to be quietly reminding her of her place in this world, his universe.

She forced herself to look away by hard swallowing. She was not at home here. She belonged neither to him nor to another. Deep down, though, she knew she was connected to him whether or not she liked it. The weight of the reality squeezed from her lungs deeper into her chest.

She had anticipated a moment of sensitivity; some little gesture to show that this was more than just business. But Rylan's coldness was like an impervious wall. It was overwhelming. He quieted himself. He didn't need to. Sharp and deliberate, his eyes told her he considered her as a possession rather than a partner. One item must be claimed for use.

Rylan went toward her with a deliberate steady grace. Amaya felt the weight of his presence occupy the space for a minute as his stature soared over hers. She could sense his eyes fixed on her, absorbing every inch of her body as though she were only objects of his examination. Her pulse accelerated, bewilderment and terror knotted in her stomach.

He went for her without saying, his hands like iron cupping her face. She shrived, but it was too late. His lips seized hers, demanding, taking. There was just his severity; no gentleness or warmth. His kiss was more of a directive than a caress. Amaya stood still, attempting to keep her ideas clear and drown out the intense sense of loss slinking into her chest.

Rylan interrupted the kiss, his eyes never turning away hers. With a low, dangerous voice, he said, "You'll learn to accept your place, Amaya."

The words rang in her head. She had not asked for this, had not wanted to be a pawn in his game, yet here she was, connected to him by a bond she could not break. Her heart beating in her throat, her body burned with an unwelcome heat as he undressed her with a glance that made her feel even smaller, more meaningless.

She wanted to withdraw. She wanted to flee far away from the man who had taken everything from her and yell. All she could do, though, was lie there, paralyzed, while he passed over demanding what was never his to take.

She lay quiet, her chest rising and falling in tiny gasps when it was over. Comparatively to when she first entered the room, the bed felt frigid. Though Rylan's body weighed more than hers, his presence in the room was the heaviest object in there.

Amaya battled tears burning her eyes by staring at the ceiling. She was unable to weep. not now. But the emptiness she experienced, a chasm she was unable to climb, ate her and dragged her farther into hopelessness.

Her mind kept repeating the weight of his words, relentless and unrelenting: You will come to accept your station.

She turned to face him and stayed fixated on his looks. In slumber he seemed calm, almost serene. The harshness of the guy who had just seized her replaced a picture of someone who seemed, dare she say it, human as the rough lines of his face melted in the low light.

She started speaking, but the words vanished on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to say so much, ask so much, but she knew that no response would help to dull the scorching anguish in her chest. He had exhibited no indication of sorrow or of feeling. She was only to him an item. a weapon for his exacting retribution.

Then, suddenly, he moved. His eyes opened then locked with hers in the darkness. His eyes revealed no hostility, no rage; instead, they showed a serene, deliberate intensity that seemed to stare right ahead.

Rylan moved, stretching himself straight with a comfort that unsettled her. "You're not asleep," he murmured, his voice raspy as though the night had taken something from him too.

Not sure how to answer, Amaya said nothing. She want to yell at him. She wanted to rant. But something in his eyes, something she couldn't exactly locate stopped her.

Rather, she turned onto her side, facing away from him, her rear to the man who had claimed her in the most aggressive manner.

They hardly spoke for a very long period. Though Amaya could sense the change in the air, something delicate and perilous, the quiet between them was weighty. The coldness persisted, but for the first time since they had met she noticed something flutter in his eyes. Almost human.

He started the stillness. "My father......" His voice faded, but there was a faint tremble in it that was not missed.

She paid no reply. She cannot. She waited, though, her breath shallow, uncertain about whether she should prod him for responses or let the moment pass.

Rylan replied gently, his voice nearly too soft for her to hear: "I never wanted this life." "But occasionally... there is no decision to make. Not for folks just like myself.

As his words sank over Amaya, a shudder crept through her. His armor cracked, and there was a glimpse of something vulnerable. She was not able to believe it though. Not following all.

Rylan's phone chimed loudly on the nightstand just as she opened her mouth to say something, anything. That moment broke.