I couldn’t wait to have her in my home and find out who she truly was. She’d be mine soon enough.
Chapter 13
Avidya
I sat outside on the porch swing that was secured from the overhang patio roof that faced the back yard. The sun had slowly set, and I loved watching how the sky would always change colors. It was one of the peaceful moments of each day. This was one of the only times I got to be by myself most days.
Father always hated wasting time to enjoy what was right in front of him. Mom was the same way because he demanded it. Although father didn’t like it, I still came out here to sit at least once a week, if not more. Normally, he’s hidden away in his office or at the church anyway, so he didn’t know.
Sitting out here gave me time to think without anyone hovering, or having to worry about studying. My studying days were over, and would never be seen again, thankfully.
Thinking about Zachariah made my stomach fill with butterflies, but thinking of him lately did that to me. I couldn’t explain why other than him being a good-looking guy. There was just something about him. Something that drew me in.
Speak of the Devil, he appeared on the porch, taking a seat beside me. Instead of sitting facing the same way, he curled one leg underneath him so he faced me. He had a look of determination mixed with questions on his face. I had no idea what he really wanted from me, as he never did come out and say it.
“Are your parents always like that?” he asked after a few moments. The silence was broken, but with him, it didn’t feel forced. For some reason, I felt like I could be whoever I wanted, and he wouldn’t look at me any differently. Not that I would, knowing father was watching.
“Most of the time,” I whispered. It happened often enough.
“You don’t have to be ashamed of that,” he said, being straightforward in a kind way.
I couldn’t help but grimace at that. I wasn’t ashamed of how I was treated, was I? It was a normal occurrence, especially when it came to how my father treated me.
“No one will treat you like that with me,” he promised softly. “Once we marry, even your father will not be allowed to treat you like that again. He shouldn’t treat you as such now.”
“You seem so sure we will marry,” I huffed out with an eye roll.
“Of course, I am,” he said, leaning back slightly, but not upset with how I spoke. If I spoke to my father like that, I would have been slapped across the face. “I always get what I want, Avidya. I want you.”
“You know my father probably has another five men lined up to interview for the role of my husband,” I spoke with distaste.
“I am counting on it,” he said with a smirk. “I’d love to see who else he is considering for your hand in marriage. To me, no one will be good enough to earn that right.”
“He’ll go with the one that offers him money,” I stated, knowing how my father worked.
“He’ll go with me because I’ll be the only one to save you,” he spoke knowingly. “So, don’t worry about it. You’re already mine.”
“I am no one’s,” I muttered. I hated not being able to decide on my own. I would fight him tooth and nail if I had to. I was my own person, wasn’t I?
I hadn’t thought that way until now, and it was out of the blue. Since my kidnapping, I had changed. Not physically, but mentally. Maybe it had something to do with what my parents were hiding from me. Maybe it was just coming into contact with Zachariah that changed me. I knew there was something about him, other than his good looks, that spoke to me.
“Your father will bring at least one other man in this week to meet you,” he said, watching my expression.
“Not surprised,” I replied, still mulling over my thoughts.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.
“Nothing,” I said, turning my attention back to the darkening sky.
“You do not lie well,” he said, amused, but happy about that fact. Why was he so happy he could read me so easily?
I couldn’t help but jump as he laid an arm across the back of the swing, taking a piece of my hair between his fingers to play with.
“I enjoy reading your expressions, which will help me greatly with bringing you into the world I live in,” he mused. “I can’t wait to see how you respond when I can show you how well your body will wither in pleasure for me.” His voice lowered as he leaned in, whispering in my ear.
“I can guarantee that you will like what I can do to you, so much so that you will be begging me to take you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.
I closed my eyes, lips pressed together tightly to hold in the moan that wanted to escape. My lower belly filled with butterflies. I would not doubt his words, but I wouldn’t make it that easy for him. My body already yearned for his touch, but I would do everything I possibly could to prove to him that it wasn’t betraying my mind.
“Have you thought of how you want to marry?” he asked, just barely moving back from my personal space.
I shook my head in answer. How could he ask something like that right that minute?
“Our wedding will be however you want it to be,” he said, still playing with a strand of my hair. “Pick whatever dress you want, even if it shows my mark on your fair skin. I can’t wait to show the world who you truly belong to.”
He pulled back from me as the back door opened. My eyes slowly opened as my father’s voice reached us.
“Time for Avidya to come inside,” he requested. Since I had returned home, he’d been grumpier than normal. Which in turn caused me to stay hidden away from him as much as possible, and that wasn’t all that hard to do. It wasn’t often that father went into my room.
“Just one more minute,” Zachariah demanded, a total one-eighty from the tone he had used when talking to me.
“One minute,” father said gruffly and shutting the door harder than was needed.
“Has he hit you?” Zachariah asked, his voice cold, but yet soothing towards me.
“He doesn’t abuse me if that’s what you want to know,” I said, not entirely answering his question. It was a fine line of what was abuse and what wasn’t these days. I wasn’t even entirely sure myself.
“That’s not what I asked, Avidya,” he said, looking at me with his all-consuming eyes.
“Only when I’m disrespectful,” I answered, looking away from his eyes and down to my lap. There was no need to say how often that apparently was while growing up and still on most days.
“He’s not allowed to hit you. Ever. It doesn’t matter if it’s in my presence or not,” he said, standing up. “He’ll pay for hitting you, let alone how he treated you tonight.” Turning his tone softer, and lifting my chin by his index finger, I once more came face to face with him. “I’ll see you soon, my kitten.”
He left me there, confused but yet yearning for more of his touch. How did he get my body to want more? It wasn’t possible.
After gathering my thoughts, I stood and made my way into the house. Not in the mood for one of my father’s lectures, again, I went straight to my room, making sure to close my bedroom door.
I felt caged in. Not just with being in this room, but just in life. In this house and under my father’s eyes. Mom – she was just caged in as I was, but I had a way out, sorta. It’s wasn’t the best of ways, but it would work for now. It had to.
I knew that marrying Zachariah would be challenging. Challenging in all ways. It was my only way that I knew of. I knew there was someone following me; I wasn’t safe. Detective Stone’s words still haunted me, but I had no one to tell them to.
But would I really be any safer with Zachariah?
Becca’s parents were blaming me for her death, even though I didn’t have anything to do with it. It was her mother, Madilyn, that thought I needed help in a mental facility. She had no idea who her daughter was. No one did but me. Becca was the only one that I ever told my secrets to and vice versa. I wasn’t even allowed to go to the
cemetery to say goodbyes to my only true friend.
And now, I had no one to talk to.
Chapter 14
Avidya
It wasn’t even a week later before father brought another man by to meet me. Three days to be exact. For some odd reason, my mom was determined to have me dress nicely. I wanted to roll my eyes at such a thought. Wasn’t what my parents deemed to be my clothing style dressy? I always had to look my best, for whatever reason that I could never understand. Most of the clothing I didn’t like, yet I had no choice in it. My mother did all the shopping from online, so I never knew what I would be wearing until it arrived. A few things in my closet were left untouched for months, though.
This time, I wasn’t so lucky on what I was forced to wear. Even with being eighteen, I still had to follow my parent’s rules and would have to until I moved out.
Yeah, that thought was extremely depressing.
“Cheer up,” mom said, although she didn’t sound all that pleased with the turn of events either. I knew she was in a dark place and had been for years. As the days went by, I could see her fall farther into depression. She didn’t hide it from me anymore like she used to, either. Maybe my disappearing for two weeks gave her the chance to stop hiding from me.
“What’s the point?” I asked bitterly. I could only take so much. I never really put much thought into how my life was, and what would become of me. Not until I was kidnapped by a man that now claimed me as his.
“To make your father happy. Now go put this on,” she replied, pushing the garments into my hands.
I couldn’t help but let my disgust show as I slipped on the dress. It may be pretty, but not me at all. I no longer knew who I was. The dress was white with a white soft netting at the top around my shoulders, and the rest a silk like material. Vines with pink flowers had been stitched on the lace covering the entire dress. It was a bit older fashioned, and not me. No matter what the price tag may have been, I wasn’t thrilled with it.
I had been careful of what I wore the past few weeks since my return, knowing that the burn mark on my inner forearm would be easily seen if someone knew what to look for. I couldn’t put it past my father, and I didn’t want to test his mood either. Now, I would have no choice but too. At the same time, maybe I could get some sort of information out of him.
When I finally made my way downstairs to the kitchen, I could hear father and another man talking. I put it off as long as I could, knowing I would make my father upset on purpose. I just couldn’t help it.
With one last deep breath, I stepped into view and came face to face with my parents and the man that would try to win my hand in marriage. Good luck buddy. I nearly snorted at the thought. There was no way I’d willingly marry him. Even if Zachariah was not an option.
This man sat straight in the chair across from my father in the living room. His dark eyes took me in from head to toe with a look of thrilled pleasure. His nose was too long and small for his clean shaven square face. His greasy dark hair fell across his forehead, nearly hiding his eyebrows. His skin was darker than my father’s and made my skin crawl with a shiver.
He made my stomach twist in knots. This man here was not the typical type of people my family ever associated with. Once, I thought it was because they didn’t like anyone different colored, but now, I was positive that there was more to the story than just that.
“This her?” he asked as his eyes met my widened ones. He didn’t seem all that impressed, and the feeling was mutual.
“Who else would she be?” my father breathed out in annoyance. “Avidya, this is Miquel.”
“Not what I was expecting,” Miquel stated, his eyes hardening just a tad. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. She is a sight to behold. So, light and would bruise easily, though.”
I remained there, not saying anything. I wasn’t sure if I could say anything nicely; it was better to not say anything than speak my mind.
“Come check on dinner with me, Avidya,” my mom said, standing up from her spot she had sat beside my father.
I followed her as my father mumbled something about me being a bit quiet most of the time, as any lady of the house should be.
“Can you be a little more sociable?” mom asked once we were in the kitchen. Her voice was quiet so it wouldn’t carry farther than where we stood in front of the stove. “He’s here to impress your father, and can offer you more than any other man can.”
“What do you expect from me? I mean, come on, throwing men my way for marriage. Father cannot make me go through with it,” I huffed out, not entirely caring if my father heard me or not. Actually, let him hear. I’d like to see what he would do if he did hear.
“Watch it,” mom said, shooting me a worried, helpless look. “He’s in a mood today, so please, go along with it, alright.”
Taking a deep breath, I stood there beside the counter. My mind raced with why I was suddenly acting like this. I had never really acted out when my choices have been taken from me my entire life. I went day by day doing whatever was expected of me.
And now, I was fighting. Although I was pissed with a new sight on how my life had always been, I felt stronger mentally. Consequences be damned.
“What has gotten into you?” mom mumbled, mostly to herself.
I wanted to answer. It would have been so easy. So, easy to ask right then and there about where I really came from too. Instead, I remained quiet, seething and thinking.
“Don’t answer that,” she said quickly, afraid to know herself. “Set this on the table. Please, Vidie, don’t make your father punish you for the way you are acting.” Her look turned sad as if she knew what would happen with the next hour.
I nodded, taking the casserole dish filled with some sort of vegetarian mix to the table after slipping oven mitts on. I would rather eat dirt than this food that already tasted like dirt. I would try to not test my father, knowing what he was capable of. My mouth seemed to run on its own since my return. I just couldn’t stop it most times.
It didn’t take long for mom to call the men in for dinner and for us all to be sat around the table and food on our plates. Thankfully, there was an empty seat between Miquel and myself. I kept my eyes on my plate, fearing to be seen. I felt forced to sit here and I couldn’t help but compare it to when Zachariah sat beside me, including me in the conversation.
“So, Miquel,” mom spoke up, ignoring my father’s glare her way. “What makes you want to marry my daughter?” I looked up, waiting for the answer. I kind of wanted to know, too.
“Why not?” he replied in return. His dark eyes hid his emotions, but I knew he was not the man that would hold my safety in his hands. He would easily be the one that caused the pain.
“Lynn,” father warned her, telling her to not continue on her questioning.
“She has the right to ask,” Miquel spoke. I wasn’t sure where he was originally from, but his voice had some sort of slight accent. “Your daughter is lovely, and would be an amazing person to have on my arm as I attend events and meetings.”
Ah, so there was so much more, but he wanted arm candy. I couldn’t help but smirk, not surprised at his words. There was more to it, I could tell. He was surprised for some reason when he first saw me, but now, he acted as though he had everything planned out.
“Although, she looks nothing like either of you,” he did point out. “Makes it so much appealing.” His eyes widened in thrill.
“She is my blood,” father spoke darkly. “Does it matter if she’s not like us?”
“Well, yes it does,” he said, setting down his fork he had been using to eat with. “I don’t want to step on toes if she’s not yours to give.” He talked as if I was a piece of property!
“She’s mine,” father repeated, trying to put an end to the topic.
Miquel looked between the three of us with calculating eyes, thoughts surely swirling in his mind of the possibilities. He was hard to read and almost seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind on if he w
anted me or not now that I was in front of him.
“No, she isn’t,” he stated, sitting up straight with a pleased smile on his face. “Maybe Lynn’s, if she had an affair, but she looks nothing like either of you.”
“No such thing!” father shouted, standing up from his chair, a look of pure rage on his face. “How dare you question her lineage!”
“Then you either bought her, or stole her, and hope to regain any money that you have lost in doing so,” Miquel said in a near laugh. He looked over at me, my forearms upwards. As his eyes darkened and glared at my arm, Miquel knew. What would he do now? Would he leave the issue be? Walk away and never be here again? Or would he fight to take me?
His to Own (His to Own #1) Page 9
