BOUND: Mates at War | 18+

14 Visitor

"You're healed enough to secure your chains," he rasps quietly.

I pull myself up to stand, trying to ignore the way my knees shake in his presence.

"Is he going to hurt my father?"

"Not if he's forthcoming with information."

My chest deflates. He won't tell them anything of value, he won't betray our people. I shudder at the thought of what could happen to him. After thinking he was dead, seeing him again has been the most unexpected gift, even in this place. I can't lose him again.

I consider pleading with Roman, begging if I have to, maybe he will do something.

I meet his gaze and my chest aches. His mouth is set to a grim line and there is no give in his eyes, I know he won't intervene on my fathers behalf, mate bond or not. I don't even know why I allowed myself to hope.

"Back up to the wall," his voice is tense and strained.

I drop my head down and step back, pressing myself against the wall. A tear slips from my eye before I can stop myself. I don't want him to see me this way, vulnerable and afraid. I feel weak both physically and emotionally, I don't have the strength to stand up to him right now.

He brings one of my hands up and snaps the cold metal cuff around my wrist.

I sniffle as he reaches for my other hand, the feeling of his skin on mine is more like a sharp sting than a soft tingle. The bond is ever present and pressing but where it normally feels like a connection between our souls, now it feels like a chain holding me to this hateful beast.

"Shit," he hooks my chin under his fingers and forces my face upward. I pinch my eyes closed, I don't want to see him. Tears drip from my chin uncontrollably and I'm filled with a strange sense of shame. Having him witness my moment of fragility makes me acutely aware of how powerless I am.

He storms out of the cell and the bars slam together violently before I'm left in silence.

Countless thoughts of him have passed through my mind over the last days here, in sleep or awake, he has never been far from my thoughts. I longed for him, I wanted him to come, I hoped each second that he would walk through the door. The disappointment at the reality of his presence hurts as much as the physical hurt of my slowly healing wounds.

After sitting in the damp darkness long enough for my arms to begin to ache in the chains, a door clicks open and I hear the shuffling of feet. I strain to see but I'm too far back in my cell.

I hear the scraping of chains before a cell door slams closed.

"I'm taking over, leave," Romans voice is cold and angry as he barks at the other guard.

"Yes, Sir," the guard sounds confused but he doesn't ask questions.

After a moment a shadow passes over the small bit of yellow light cast onto the floor of my cell. I can't resist the urge to look.

Roman is standing outside of my cell, his arms outstretched, holding him up as he leans against the bars. I can see the movement of his chest, the rapid pace of his breath. I yelp in surprise as he jerks the cell open and stands before me in a few long strides.

The cell door slams closed as he presses his hand to my throat. I wince, expecting pain but there is none, he doesn't squeeze, only holds his hand there for a moment before moving his fingers to my chin again. I set my swollen eyes on his lips, watching as he runs his tongue over them.

"Your father is in his cell, mostly unharmed," there is a clipped rage in his voice, an anger I can feel just below the surface.

"Mostly?"

A gruff sound comes from the back of his throat.

"Break the spell," he whispers hoarsely, "please."

I finally look up at his eyes, they are dark and rimmed with heavy circles. His hand slides from my neck to my shoulder, his rough thumb rubbing against the tender skin on my throat.

His touch is softer than I'm used to but I can feel the ire beneath the calm surface. The intensity in his eyes makes goosebumps roll across my skin.

I open my mouth to speak but my voice is caught in my throat, burning in my chest with all the other things I want to tell him.

We hold our locked gaze, the rest of the world fading into nothingness beyond us, the chains, the cell, the crumbling kingdom, we're alone.

His other hand moves down my body slowly, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. I tremble and the chains rattle loudly.

He runs his hand over my neck before cupping it tightly over my mouth. His face is so close to mine that the tip of his nose runs over my cheek as he presses his other hand lower.

I feel his fingers at the apex of my thighs, brushing against my skin.

When he runs his long fingers through my core I bite into my tongue to force back the moan that tries to escape. I don't want to be affected by him, I don't want to give him the satisfaction.

His skilled fingers move slowly over me, his thumb rubbing circles that make my body jerk and my knees buckle.

When he slips one long finger inside of me then curls it, my hips buck forward, rubbing against his. I can feel him, the thick outline of his bulge straining against his pants.

He repeats a massaging motion that has my body shaking in a matter of seconds. I feel a deep tension growing in my stomach, a tight ache that's pulsating, burning, throbbing.

A rough, frustrated groan pushes from his chest and the tension releases. My body trembles on his as a coursing pleasure fires through every nerve, bursting through me.

Every muscle tightens and spasms, my core clenching around his fingers.

A muffled sob presses into his hand just as he pushes his face into the crook of my neck. He drops his hand from my mouth letting me suck in heavy breaths as I fight to stay conscious. A deep, heavy tiredness settles over me.

My head falls back against the cold stone wall and I sag against the chains.

I can barely keep my eyes open but I'm aware enough to know that he is standing over me, tense and aggravated. I feel him move away, the warmth of his body leaving mine. I force one eye open to see him unclipping something from his belt. He brings it forward and dumps its contents into his hand. With a small step he's pressed against my body again, moving his hand behind me. I feel his fingers graze over the rough, scarred skin on my back, a soothing, cool feeling spreading over me. He rubs the skin gently as the smell of beeswax and pine waft through the air.

When I look up to study his face his eyes are pinched closed, almost as if he's in pain. He pulls away suddenly, practically running from my cell, leaving me alone in the dark again.

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