Chapter 229
Magnus Hale
I kiss his hair one last time, feeling his scent mingle with mine.
“Let’s go to the cell… love,” I say, and I feel him squeeze me even tighter, as if that word were the most precious thing he’s ever wanted
to hear.
He pulls away slowly, still with that spark in his eyes, takes my hand, and brings it to his lips, pressing a light kiss there.
“Yes, my love. Let’s go to the cell,” he replies, in a tone far too calm
and affectionate.
We walk down the corridor together, side by side, until we reach our cell. As soon as we enter, Adrian turns the key and locks us in. The metallic sound echoes–muffled, familiar.
I don’t feel like showering right now. I pull his hand and lead him with me to the bed. I lie down and bring him with me, his body falling over mine. All that weight, the heat, the racing heart. I let out a low laugh, feeling the heavy thumping against my chest.
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“One day you’re going to end up having a heart attack,” I joke,
running my hand through his hair.
Adrian laughs, muffled, and buries his face in my neck, breathing
deeply.
“You smell so good, love… so good,” he speaks in a low tone, his voice
hoarse with sleepiness.
I kiss his hair and hold him, feeling his body fit perfectly against
mine.
“Yours is good too,” I reply in a lazy tone. “Now, stay quiet. I want to
sleep.”
He laughs again, a low, satisfied sound, and this time he obeys, falling
silent.
His breathing soon calms down, warm against my neck, and the constant sound of his heart is the last thing I hear before letting sleep take me.
[…..]
I wake up with a light pressure on my body, as if someone had just gotten off me. I open my eyes slowly and notice the bed feels lighter.
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Adrian isn’t there. The silence in the cell is cut by the fresh scent of
soap, which means he hasn’t been gone for long.
I let out a yawn, sit on the edge of the bed, and crack my neck,
stretching slowly. Then, I stand up, stretch my shoulders, and remove the wrinkled uniform from the night before.
I walk to the shower, turn the knob, and let the hot water slide down my body, relaxing every muscle still heavy with sleep.
I take a quick shower, lathering every part, feeling the foam run down to the drain. I wash my face, my hair, and my chest. Then I reach for the toothbrush and paste, brushing my teeth without haste, enjoying the simple moment.
By the glow of the weak light coming through the cracks, I calculate it must be 6:00 AM at the most, maybe a bit earlier. I finish my shower, turn it off, and dry myself with the towel. I put on a clean uniform, adjusting the fabric on my body, and run the towel through my hair, leaving it just damp before hanging it on the cell’s improvised hook.
I step out into the corridor, stretching my arms, feeling my muscles respond firmly. I take a few steps and begin to warm up my body, flexing, rotating my shoulders, preparing myself for the day’s exercises, and getting my body ready to handle whatever comes.
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Did Adrian wake up early to bring me food? That must be it. He
always has that habit.
I walk down the corridor, still stretching my body, until my steps
suddenly freeze.
The air gets stuck in my throat.
Adrian is leaning against the wall, his back to me. And in front of him is a guard I’ve never seen before.
My heart races so hard I feel the pressure rise to my head, throbbing. The guard takes a step forward, getting far too close, and a chill runs through my veins.
Did he kiss him?
No… if it were Adrian, he would have already punched the bastard and broken his teeth right then and there. But what I see freezes my world: Adrian tilts his head to the side, as if accepting the approach,
The weight in my chest is brutal, suffocating, as if the air had been ripped out. Every heartbeat hurts like a stab wound.
Is he reciprocating? Reciprocating the kiss of a damn guard?
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The sensation is like a free fall, as if everything inside me had
collapsed. My fists clench so hard my knuckles crack.
That traitorous son of a bitch… he said he loved me.
He said he would never betray me, that his body was mine. I feel an anguish so great it turns into fire, rage, pure rage, and I can’t hold back anymore. I lunged. I’ve never walked so fast in my life.
Adrian turns his face toward me, but my target is the guard. I shove the boy aside without mercy and shatter the guard’s face with a punch so dry I hear the bone snap. His nose cracks, the hot blood splattering onto my arm.
I don’t stop. I get on top of him and bring my hand down on his face, punching without thinking–each blow is a discharge of everything simmering inside me: jealousy, fear, shame, betrayal. I taste the iron in the air–blood, dirt, adrenaline–and I keep going. The guard groans, the moments turning into a red and noisy blur around me.
I feel a touch on my shoulder, Adrian’s hand trying to hold me back.
“Lov…” He tries to say something, but I interrupt him, pulling away from the contact as if it burned.
My voice comes out shredded, my throat burning with hate.
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“Don’t touch me, you traitorous son of a bitch!” I scream, swallowing
the words. “You said you loved me, and here you are kissing this
worm!”
His eyes go wide in real shock.
“Kissing? Love, I didn’t kiss him-” He tries to explain, his voice breaking, his hands trembling as he reaches for my face.
He tries to touch me again; I recoil, abrupt, as if his skin were glowing
embers.
“Liar!” I spit. “I saw it! You tilted your head, accepting the kiss from that piece of shit asshole. I trusted you, dammit. I trusted you so much, and what do I get? Horns? This is what I get?”
I point my finger in his face and let out, in a hoarse voice, the words cutting the air.
“You’re a son of a bitch, Adrian. I trusted you.”
My chest tightens as if someone had punched me right in the gut.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
