His Beloved

Chapter XX

Chapter XX

Clara was beyond evil, I decided as I lay with my eyes shut on the plush private jet. How anyone could hurt someone like this and have no remorse...I understood she wanted to get back at Aron but to hurt someone so violently who hadn't even been involved? She needed to be admitted to an insane asylum.

My arm was broken, that was certain and I could feel a lump on the back of my head which I knew was from the amount of time my head had made contact with the hard floor. I was cold and wet from the drowning and I could feel the wounds on my back, fresh and bloody still stinging painfully.

All I wanted was Aron.

I wanted to be in the safety of his arms and the safety of the castle. I was never going to leave that castle ever again. Not after this. I never wanted to experience this kind of pain and torture ever again.

I wasn't sure where we were going – maybe I was going back to Aron. She'd seemed so angry when he called her so I knew he had done something. Something that was making her willing enough to get on a plane and travel to who knows where.

I felt so sore and it took all my might to just not fall asleep forever.

Instead I occupied my mind. I thought about my life and how much had changed how much I had learnt about myself. My life had always been cast in the shadows until Aron barged in and changed it all. My thoughts drifted to our extravagant wedding and our wedding night which had been beyond perfect.

I had never felt as connected to Aron as I had that night.

Clara was prattling off to two wolves in French and their eyes went from her to me often as I peeked at them every now and then. I wish I knew what they were saying – the note knowing made me so nervous and the last thing I wanted was more torture. I really wasn't sure if I could bear it anymore.

I couldn't believe it had all happened to be honest. That Clara had been waiting so long to get her revenge on her brother. How long she'd have waited and her patience as slightly admirable. However I couldn't applaud her that much, after all I had a strong loathing hate for her growing every time I heard her mangled voice.

"What's my old castle like Ashia?" Clara's voice switched from French to English and I looked at her with wide eyes. "Do the portraits still line the walls of the halls? I have I been removed from any pictures?"

"You're still in them," I whispered nervously.

"Interesting, I'd think my brother would have taken me from every one. He's done a fair job of cutting me out of that world." She regarded me heavily under her made up face and I wondered if she thought the makeup helped her scarred and torn apart features.

It didn't.

She was just as ugly on the outside as she was on the inside.

"Now you're lady for the Ahasverus mansion, how wonderful for you." Her voice indicated she thought it was anything but wonderful and I swallowed the nervous lump of saliva gathering in my throat. As long as she didn't get angry and fly into a rage I would be okay. "What's it like living in a home filled with so many memories before your time?"

Why was she asking such civil questions?

"It's fine..." I uttered as I looked down at my hands.

"Yes it is quite fine. You get to live with such finery – a young weak witch who hasn't been alive long enough to-" She stopped talking and shut her eyes, as if she was trying to calm herself. "And I'm exiled to the wild, my mate torn from my life and my face hardly recognizable to the family that still visit me. Does it not scare you what my dear brother is capable of Ashia? What if you do something he doesn't like and he decides to deform you?"