The Rebellious Mate

8(i) Flight

Outside the greenhouse, the guards barred her path. In their suits, waistcoats, and masks they cut a comical figure, if not for their aura of suppressed violence. They screamed danger.

The import of her dire situation descended on Asena like a truck of bricks. The Prince could still kidnap her. Zane had proved himself as useful as nipples on a breastplate.

"My lady, this is a standard non-disclosure agreement—" a guard near the Rolls Royce said.

She snatched the digital pencil and scrawled on the screen without reading a word.

Without a worry in the world, Zane wandered across the courtyard. She marched to him, grabbed his arm, and hissed, "Not now. Let's get out of here."

Unsure if she was dragging him or clinging to him for support, she held on for dear life. In the car, she shushed him when he spoke to her. Wary of the driver, she kept mum and remained silent on the swanky private plane too, except to ask for her clothes. She switched the linen jacket out for her sweatshirt and put on her thick socks.

The crash after the adrenaline rush weighed down her eyelids. Zane covered her with a fleece shawl. She snuggled under the soft fabric until a persistent buzz disturbed her.

Half-asleep, Asena caught Zane whispering, "Yes, my Prince. She's napping. Should I —" He strolled out of earshot.

Relieved she didn't have to talk to Drach Nassau, she rested until the thud of the landing startled her.

Despite Zane's worried glances, Asena bit her tongue until they reached the Eros estate. Part of her doubted they'd escape, and end up at the unmapped lair of the beast called Attor.

Inside, she ran off to her quarters to bathe.

Undeterred, Zane knocked until she answered the door.

"What happened?" he inquired.

Asena had expected Zane to be furious, not perturbed. "It's a no-go!" she whisper-yelled. She couldn't bear to dissect the date but resigned herself to doing so.

Zane sat down on the armchair and waved at the bed.

Asena plonked her butt on the mattress and mumbled, "I'm fine."

"You are not fine." Gently, he touched the marks the Prince had left on her forearm.

"Return his money." She extracted the cloth pouch from the bedside drawer. "Sell it all. Do it. Eros—"

Zane sighed. "Child, did the Prince hurt you?"

"He is too much and demands too much..."

"Calm down, Asena. He called, and suspects he's scared you and de—"

"He literally ignited... How are we compatible if I can't touch him and he tends to burst into flames." She rarely raised her voice, yet she was screaming.

When she tried to undo the heavy chain, it had no clasp. Zane helped, but failed, too.

"I... don't want it," she managed between gasps. Her chest constricted; the harder she struggled, the less she could draw in air.

Zane caught her shoulders to shake her. "You will not have a panic attack. Breathe!"

"No... just no. I—"

"Shhh. You decided. That's enough."

"How? He is—"

Zane undid the drawstring of the bag to admire the veil band. His fingers played with the intricate flexible links, worn over the forehead. Another connected behind the ears to drape over the cheeks and bridge of the nose. A cloth was stitched onto it to cover the lower half of the face. It had been passed down four generations in her mother's family. The belt belonged to her father's line. They were set aside for her wedding ceremony, as it's been for theirs, and their elders before them.