The Enchanting Rapture (#1)

Chapter 2

Annika

Wind whipped around in violent waves, crashing against anything and everything. Annika was its newest victim. She marched on, clutching the thin basket closely. The fresh towels had to remain pristine or Annika would find herself gripping desperately onto the whipping pole once again.

Her dirty slippers sloshed through the moist grass and soggy dirt as she made her way from the laundry house to the main building. Annika gazed around apprehensively, praying that no one would spot her by herself. An alone slave was an easy target. Annika learned that the hard way.

Keeping her head low, she recognized that light would escape soon, leaving the moon to glow against the glistening stars.

Taking in a deep breath as she made her way closer to the back of the main building, Annika paused dead in her tracks. A hole in the shape of a window was carved out, hovering only a few inches off the ground. It had to lead to a cell in the dungeon, where her master kept his prisoners.

She gazed at the window in apprehension. Could the wild creature be in there now? Was he hurt? Why did the thought of his harm cause her a strange emotional anguish? An urgency forced Annika's feet off the original trek and towards the newest mystery in her life.

The smell of blood and pure dirtiness was potent when she was within touching range of the hole. She knelt onto her sore knees, gently placing the basket onto a clean-looking patch of green life. The burn of her stretching wounds was nothing compared to her curiosity, so it was easy to ignore. Acting on instinct, Annika found herself leaning forward, towards someone she guessed would be of great importance.

In a broken voice softer than the weakest breeze, she said, "Are you there, sir?"

Annika could not see a thing in the room, but a man had to be in there, that much she knew. So she waited and waited, needing to know if he was okay. The creature had to be strong, even in imprisonment, she could feel the very air of his immense energy.

She rested a hand against the stone, having a sudden stubbornness rest deep in her chest. Annika was not going anywhere.

A low and menacing growl rung out. Annika shivered in fear and odd recognition. Without a word, Annika knew she was dealing with a very powerful man, one who was wild and untamed.

"Are you well, sir?" Annika asked slowly and quietly, wishing to not provoke the beast out of the man. Silence became thick for several seconds, deepening her anxiety.

"What is your name, girl?" He demanded. Annika swallowed at his rough voice, one caused by too much screaming. His tone was flat, missing all possible emotion, as though feeling had escaped the shell of his body. Were his eyes just as cold?

Annika focused on his question. Her name? That was so odd. After being referred to as everything but her birth given name, it was an alien feeling to speak the title out loud. "I am a slave," she answered with a quaking voice, "we don't have names, sir." There. That was a safe answer.

He growled once again. Annika shivered once again. "What do you want?" His voice, so violent, seemed to soothe her worst nightmares with few words.

She shook her head. "I asked if you were well, sir?" Annika repeated.

"Why do you care?" He gritted out, followed by a rustling of chains.

"I... don't know, sir," Annika admitted, "I was hoping that maybe you could explain my actions, sir?" Because she sure as heaven couldn't.

"Actions?" His gritty voice echoed around the hollow room aimlessly. She nodded.

"Are you a bad man, sir?" Annika blurted out.