17

A Night to Not Remember

We take a different path from the one Jonas and I did from my rooms, hinting we are going to Jerrick's chambers instead of mine. We walk in silence, and I don't know if I am the only one dreading the arrival or if Jerrick feels the same, too.

I try to keep my focus off what lies ahead by taking in the castle, admiring its beauty and intricate details as each step clacks against the rugs and stone floors, the only noise between us.

"Do you like it?" Jerrick asks, pulling me from examining the walls.

"What? Oh! The castle? Yes, it is beautiful," I blurt, not realizing how awkward my response is.

Sweat beads down the sides of my brow. And while my gown is a thin layer of fabric, it may as well be the thickest woolen coat.

I fear my body is giving off a rank smell, and I clench my arms and thighs and bite my lip in concentration.

Come on, Tove, pull yourself together.

The hallway we walk down is narrower than the others, with fewer decorations adorning the walls and no guards. Every few feet, there is an elevated archway that brings the spaces together, but the blackened rugs, dimmed lanterns, and the lack of windows create a moody atmosphere.

We inch up more stairs, which ruins my controlled movements. I haul myself through every step, and mercifully, Jerrick doesn't make a remark.

He matches my pace, and I appreciate it.

There were never this many stairs in my home. I need to find an excuse not to be locked up in a room and build my endurance, so I don't pass out while ascending or descending.

When we make the final clearing my heart is pounding so hard, I can hear it accompanied by Jerrick's small chuckle. I snap my head to him, scowling at his judgment.

"What is so funny?" I demand.

He glances down briefly, still chuckling.

He is such a bastard.

"You must be imagining me dead or something."

"And why do you think that?" I retort, caught off guard and pissed I wasn't thinking about it.

"I can practically feel you strangling me with the grip you have on my arm."

Baffled, I look down, noting the vise grip I do, indeed, have on him.

I release my white-knuckled hold. "Sorry," I mutter, realizing I might have been relying on his support to climb the stairs.

Illuminated at the end of the hallway is one floor-to-ceiling door, beckoning for us to open it. As our steps guide us closer, spikes of anxiety tug and rip at my chest, gripping me violently.

Jerrick inclines his head and guides us inside. As he closes the door behind us, I delve further into the rooms, taking in the lightly ruffled bed, cluttered tables, and lounge area.

The lock clicks, and Jerrick's attention focuses on me.

We stay in the quiet of the night as his footsteps move around me.

He grabs a lit candle and disperses more light to other candles throughout the bedchamber.

I fold my arms while I stand there, letting him do his work.

The room brightens with light, shining on the reflective sheer fabric of the curtains Jerrick pulls closed before turning to a worktable and adjusting some papers.

I follow his movements, noting he is tidying up as he goes, earning a crooked smirk from me.

He turns, allowing me to take him in again. Scanning him head to toe, as he does me, I note the rapid rise and fall of his chest telling me I am not alone in my worries.

I don't know what to expect, as I haven't gone beyond the passionate kisses Niko and I shared and pleasuring myself in Niko's presence.

I gulp at my lack of experience of the real thing, finding myself contemplating my value to Jerrick once again. The thought of that alone sends sweat down my spine, and I rub my sweaty hands together.

My heart sinks into my stomach as panic rushes through me.

Can I even let this happen?

I know we are married, but…

Jerrick steps toward me, throwing my fears into rapid repeat, and I instinctively move back and turn to the window.

I touch the glass, the bitter cold from outside chilling the glass and my body. I dip my head and try to let the cooling sensation numb me, but I can't relax.

Thought after thought, memory after memory, emotion after emotion. My mind is reeling, replaying anything and everything, all while I fight for air to return to my lungs. If I could manifest my magic at will, I might be able to conjure up a reasonable excuse to get out of this night.

I laugh at my stupidity, knowing nothing seems to work out when I need it to.

Cologne and leather cling to me, and I fight not to break away from the cold window to gaze at the man who is the source of all my troubles.

He fucking kidnapped me.

No matter how handsome he is, the fact he is a king, or how he was a little nice when we first met.

I hate how the last thought tempts me into believing I might enjoy tonight. But I shun those thoughts, feeling as if I am letting myself and Niko down.

Jerrick reaches across and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. It's cold to the touch, and I want to lean into it right now to simmer down the looming feeling of failure.

I close my eyes as emotions surface, trying not to react.

"Are you in any pain?" he whispers, sending a rush of goose bumps down the side of my neck.

I exhale a long, shuddering breath, and my eyes meet his. "Do you really want to know?"

He peers out the window, and the muscles in the side of his jaw tic. Jerrick glances at his bed, then he takes my hand in his and guides us to it.

Everything tells me to fight against his hold, but I follow willingly.

The bed is large, almost bigger than my old one at home, and when we both sit on the foot, the bed dips and cushions me tightly.

Jerrick releases my hand, and I rest it on the sheets.

The black velvet rubs between my fingers, wiping away more of my sweat.

I hate that I want to sink into the comfort I know this bed is going to bring me.

"How about a drink?" He gestures to a small hutch, with petite glass doors and a countertop holding a few spun glasses.

Too nervous to speak, I nod and gulp down air the second he rises. I fan myself rapidly, hoping the sweat will abate.

The hutch creaks, forcing me to jolt to my original position as Jerrick turns, eyebrows lifted in question. "Whiskey?"

My face sours at the phantom burning sensation whiskey gives whenever I drink it. I wish it were wine, but I think any liquid courage will help me get through this night. I shrug before nodding.

A low chuckle from Jerrick escapes while he pours the whiskey. Jerrick's steps are delicate when he turns and extends the drink.

I grasp the cup, hoping he doesn't notice my trembling hands. I swig down the small amount before Jerrick even has a chance to lift his glass to his lips.

"F-Fuck!" I croak out, regretting swallowing the whiskey in one gulp as Jerrick's lips touch his glass, hiding his amusement. "Don't laugh," I rasp, rubbing my chest as the burning sensation warms me.

Jerrick scrutinizes me as he downs his entire glass, never once breaking eye contact with me.

My eyes widen at his lack of reaction.

He lowers the glass and smirks. "Now that's better." Jerrick takes my cup and turns to his wooden furniture.

I am about to protest another glass but pause when he sets them down.

He leans against the hutch, placing one foot on the bottom drawers, observing me as I grip the velvety sheets.

Jerrick clicks his tongue, and his dimpled smirk appears. He pushes off from his leaning position, stalking toward me slowly. A predator hunting its prey.

The thought alone should send me into a fit of nausea, but something dark within me is pleased by his movements.

I drop to the blanket as he sits next to me.

My breath catches at the closeness of him, the liquor warming me internally, while, externally, his gaze sets my skin ablaze.

He sweeps his hand over mine, rubbing in sweet, antagonizing circles.

I watch the rotation of his calloused thumb roam the same spot.

Jerrick leans close, kissing my upper arm far more gently than I thought he would. He is hunched over me awkwardly, his chin resting on my shoulder as his hand crawls up my beaded sleeve, sending goose bumps to prickle along my skin.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says.

"How do you know you haven't already?" My features pinch in embarrassment, blaming the whiskey for loosening my tongue as his hand dwindles in circles.

"Allow me to rectify that," Jerrick says as his lips land on mine.

I melt against him, sighing at the rich cologne mixing in with the taste of whiskey on his tongue. It is intoxicating, and his lips are soft.

He cups my breast, and a shuddered moan escapes my throat. Oh, Sweet Makers, that feels good. Too good.

A low rumble vibrates against my lips as he kisses me deeper, playing with my breasts and catching me off guard with a pleasurable pinch over my nipple.

Gasping through the pained turned pleasure, Jerrick hums in approval.

"I knew you'd love that."

My nipple pebbles as he pinches tighter, twisting it between his fingertips, sending wetness straight to my center. I hiss and close my eyes.

Fuck, I want more.

Jerrick's hand drifts down, gripping onto my waist and squeezing in need. His eyes meet mine in question, the paleness of the blue in his irises darkening into a warmer gray-blue, and I can't stop from admiring the contrast between his eyes and his scar.

"Do you trust me?" he asks.

I snort. "Do you really want me to answer that? For Yeva's sake, you kidnapped me."

A snarl escapes from him, and I shrink in fear.

I clutch my chest, and a sudden apology forms along my lips, but his movements are faster than I can follow as he darts up to leave.

The force of him yanking the door open sends a sweep of air into the room.

He whips his head to me, fury and his pupils removing all the blue as he laces venom behind his words. "I'd rather deal with this fucking curse than be stuck in here with you any longer."

My mouth drops, and I'm stunned, speechless, as the door rips air from the bedroom, sending a loud slam to echo in the bedchamber.

The click of his boots against the stone floor recedes down the hallway.

I gasp for air as I sit on Jerrick's bed with one question repeating in my head.

What fucking curse?