The Taming

Broken Trust

She lifted her head, surprised he saw through her so clearly. "I don't trust you, nor any man for that matter. And I certainly would be a fool to trust your intentions."

"Not nearly, actually." He dismissed. "I prefer my women fully engaged. Not sleeping the rest of the dead."

"I'm not dead."

Yet.

"Could've fooled me." He shifted to the floor. The bowl in his hand as he proffered her some cheese. When she made no move, he urged. "How could you fend me off if you're too weak to rise?"

Staring at him a long while she hesitantly reached for the sustenance. Her body trembled, and her hand fell. She's too weak for even that.

He'd thought perhaps inciting her to sustain herself might inspire some strength. She's more wan than I thought.

"Huh." He grinned. "If I feed you, will you take my fingers?"

"Most likely." She murmured.

Reassuring... He frowned at her. Eyeing her as he debated the options. Deciding to risk it he moved to the edge of the bed and fed her chunks of cheese from the metal cup.

Disgust at her own weakness reflected in her eyes.

She hates potentially being dependent on my kindness.

"Ah, how your soul rages for entrusting me to feed you." He recognized. Wondering aloud. "Where'd you learn such hatred Little Harpie?"

Especially for men.

Even ones who've done nothing to warrant it.

"I let you feed me, as I currently have no other option." She said bitterly. Reminding him why she allowed it.

As if she needed to.

"Of course, you do." He said cheerfully. "You could refuse until you collapse completely. Then you'd find out if I'm a man of my word, wouldn't you?" He met her long look and lifted a blonde brow.

Her nose wrinkled. "As I said. No choice."

***

No trust. Not the merest grain. Bast recognized. Looking at her stiff posture and darting eyes.

Like an injured bird eating from one's hand because it knows it can't escape this moment.

Chewing carefully, she eyed him like a wild animal. Irritation written over her face.

And left undisguised for my benefit, no doubt.

Breaking off chunks of bread he served them to her.

She chewed then swallowed slowly. Her neck curving and her breath catching in her dry throat.

He yelled for the servant again.

A different one arrived. Handing him a mug and a tankard of ale.

Pouring it in the mug, Sebastian helped her roll over. Lifting her back so he could pour the fluid down her neck. Swallowing gratefully, her face changed momentarily to relief.

Were she a less prideful creature, she may've thanked me. But he doubted it.

Releasing her, he let her fall limply back to the plush pillows.

Blowing out a heavy breath, she went incredibly still.

Already asleep.

It'll be awhile until she regains full strength. I'll feed her again in a few hours. He decided.

He went to leave but paused as he stood over her.

Assessing the dimunitive creature lying so pitifully in the huge four-poster.

Fragments of awe turned his face. Making him tilt his head to watch the play of firelight over her delicate features.

So angry for one so small.

She was indescribably beautiful laying there. Hair the silver white of snow spilling around her face and catching glints of light to cast a glow on the skin of her cheek. Long dark lashes a reflection of the perfectly arched brows. And those lips, when not compressed in contempt, were full and vivid. Nearby a small hand rested on the pillow. The fingers curled in slumber. Each one perfectly formed and looking beckoningly smooth.

I wonder if those little hands are as soft as they look. But such thoughts were having an unwelcome effect on his body.

He reached to trail a fingertip over the smooth, softness of her palm.

She moved her head slightly and made a small sound.

He retracted his hand. Spinning on his heel he headed for the door. Shifting his breeches with a grunt.