The Dark Rising (The Hidden of Vrohkaria Book Two)
The Dark Rising: Chapter 19

I play with the berries on my plate, not all that hungry, especially with the glare on the side of my face.

“Eat,” Darius grunts, but I scowl and lean back in the chair that I’m in near the fire.

“I’m not hungry,” I growl, pushing the plate away. “Are we done here for now? I want to see my pack.”

“You can see them later.” Darius bites into a piece of meat, his eyes holding mine as he chews.

“No,” I say slowly, “I want to see them now.” He shakes his head, ignoring me. “Darius,” I growl, and he smirks, leaning back in the chair and taking a drink. I grit my teeth, my eyes like fire, but he doesn’t burn, not even a little singe.

I get up, pushing my chair back and walk toward the door. I hear his chuckle behind me as I grasp the doorknob and twist. Only, it doesn’t open. I try again, grunting at the effort before I turn toward the asshole sitting smugly in his seat.

“Why is the door locked?” I ask slowly, my body vibrating with tension. He shrugs. Shrugs. I look back toward the door in panic. I want to call Josh down the link, but I’ve been blocking his attempts, not ready to talk to him, but now…

“You are not going anywhere until you have had some rest,” Darius says, and my eyes move to him as he stands and walks toward the bathroom.

“That’s bullshit,” I shout, following him. “I’m rested, I’m not a child.” He ignores me, instead turning the taps on to fill the copper bathtub, water instantly spewing from the spouts, and I have to hand it to the humans, they make some resourceful things. “Darius,” I growl when he ignores me.

“Strip, get in the bath.” He busies himself with dipping his fingers into the water, adjusting the taps’ flow as I just stare at him.

“Fuck no,” I sputter. My eyes going back and forth from the tub to him. “Absolutely not.”

“You don’t want a warm bath?” He puts his hands on his hips, brows pinched together like he doesn’t understand.

I do want a bath, just not with him here. “Leave and I’ll get in the bath.”

“I’ve seen you naked, Rhea, don’t act like a blushing virgin now.”

I fist my hands at my sides. “Yes, Darius, you have seen me naked, haven’t you?” I bite back. “And not just in my heat.” The reminder does the trick, and his eyes harden. “Now get out. I’ll bathe and then I’ll leave to see my pack.”

He doesn’t answer, just stares at me for a moment, his body tense before he leaves and slams the door shut behind him. I scoff and take off the clothes Belldame gave me, glancing at the door in case he comes back.

He doesn’t.

Why is he running me a bath anyway?

I eye the water, wondering if it will turn into lava at any moment before I shake myself off. It’s a bath, Rhea.

I turn off the spouts when it’s full, then dip my toe in the warm water, feeling its perfect temperature before I climb in. I sigh as I sit down, letting its warmth soak into my skin as I lean back, not fully relaxed but letting the water soothe my aching muscles. Cupping water into my hands, I bring it up to my face, washing away all the sweat and strain of the last few days.

And it has been days since I passed out, and then I refused to speak to Darius, refused to eat or drink. Stupid on my part, I did no favors to anyone, especially myself for doing that.

I just wanted to be left alone for a time, to gather my strength and thoughts. To shove all the shit down that I’m feeling so I can fortify myself again.

All I did was weaken myself and now I’m stuck in Darius’s bedroom that he wont let me out of until he says so. Why my enemy, sort of ally, wants me near him is a mystery when all I want is to claw his eyes out. Though I suspect it’s our connection that is the reason.

He must hate it, loathe it. Serves him right to have to do things he doesn’t want to do. It makes me feel fuzzy inside that he feels the need to do so, when his mind is so against it.

Asshole.

Closing my eyes, I breath deeply, running my fingers through the water and eventually, after a little while, my shoulders loosen and my aches and small pains seem to fade away.

For just a moment, I can breathe.

Then the door opens.

I jolt, sitting up and wrapping my arms around my knees as I look over my shoulder. Darius strolls through the door, a plate in his hand and a wicker basket in the other.

“Get out!” I bark, making sure my breasts are covered, even though my back is to him. He ignores me, because of course he does, and puts his items on the counter. “Darius, get. The. Fuck. Out.”

He turns toward me sharply, his mouth opening but he pauses, his eyes fused on my back. I pale and look forward, trying to sink under the water, but it’s only so high. The air is tense, stifling, as I clench my fingers on my knees, my nails digging into my skin.

Leave, leave, leave.

I can feel his eyes tracing me once again, all over my back, like he can see the scars that are hidden there, the ones he put there. My back burns and aches and itches, and how fucking dare he barge in here. How dare he look at me like he can see me.

Again!

I don’t want him here, he needs to get out.

My heart beats wildly in my chest as my power flows to the surface, humming just below my skin at my call. I raise a hand, about to do anything to get him out of here, when a touch on my back makes me flinch, then freeze, my power retreating under his gentleness. Runa purrs within me as my breaths come out loud, wheezy even to my own ears, but he doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop as goosebumps appear under his touch.

He moves a single finger down my back tentatively, a barely there sensation as he moves it around on my skin. Up, down, a little diagonal, a little lower. I can’t move while he repeats the same pattern that only he knows. The water is still as I’m unable to move, frozen at his ministrations and tears sting the back of my eyes as I lower my forehead to my knees.

Why is he touching a place that he hurt so bad?

How did I get here? We should have never met, we should have kept apart until our deaths. I would rather that than feel this pull toward my enemy. Toward the one that should have kept me safe.

Lie.

What my mom said was a lie.

My fingers dig harder into my skin, so hard I’m sure I have marks, but I need to feel that to not feel what he’s making me feel right now.

I tense when he reaches the back of my neck, his finger turning into a hand and he starts to massage there softly. Holding back a groan at how good it feels, I squeeze my eyes shut. He moves my hair out of the way, bringing his other hand up to knead into my shoulders now, and my body loses its tension on its own accord.

Something soft comes to my body then, and the smell of wildflowers tickles my nose. He’s washing my back, moving the cloth in swirls with so much care that it threatens to push me under. I lift my head suddenly, looking over my shoulder at him beneath my lashes. He doesn’t acknowledge me, just continues to stare at my back and wash it, like it’s a task he has to do.

He dips the cloth into the water, and his eyes eventually move to mine. I suck in a breath at the emotion there, the hatred. I turn back around, not wanting my enemy to see my own hatred building, my own anger and pain.

How can he wash me and look at me like that? His actions and words confuse me. Cares, but demands. Hates, but is gentle. I don’t know how to navigate this.

“It’s not for you,” he says gruffly after a moment, startling me out of my thoughts. I say nothing in response. “Here.” I look to the side and see he’s moved closer now, right next to me. A berry is in his hand, a small ball of blue. I look to it and then to him in question, and he brings it toward my mouth. “Eat.” His gaze roams over my body. I’m still huddled, but it’s like he can see everything. Especially the weight I’ve lost.

Feeling self conscious, I slump down further in the water, trying to hide my body when he shoves the berry in my mouth forcefully. “Hewh,” I say around a mouthful, sitting up straighter. “You—“ His eyes have dropped to the water, and I look down, realizing that I let go of my knees and now my legs are straight. He can see all of me clearly through the water. His eyes blaze as they take me in, his breathing deeper than before. His eyes flick up to mine and I squeeze my thighs together as the air fills with lust, desire with an undertone of anger.

Darius growls beneath his breath and tears his eyes away, and I feel like I can breathe again. Another berry appears in my vision, and I scowl. He shakes his head, his jaw tight and I swallow the one I already have in my mouth, opening for another. Bossy asshole.

He watches me take the berry this time, his eyes pinned to my mouth as I chew, and I remember him doing it when I was on his lap which does not help the ache I’m feeling between my thighs. As soon as I’m done, he grabs another berry, and another until I can’t take any more. I don’t even know how many I’ve had. I blink out of whatever trance he had me in, wondering why I just let him feed me again, but deep down, I know why.

I hate it.

Lock it down, Rhea.

Darius brings the cloth back into the water and takes hold of my wrist. I snatch it away and he scowls, grabbing it again. Trying to no avail to get him to release it, I huff and shake my head, bringing my knees back up to my chest. He studies the red line wrapping around it, scowling as his grip tightens on me. I try to pull back, but he holds tight and brings the cloth to it, gently wiping over it.

“Did you really not heal?” he asks, and it sounds so loud after being in silence for so long. I nod. He nods.

“I supposed it doesn’t matter to you, whether I healed or not,” I say, and his jaw ticks. Dunking the cloth back into the water with more force than necessary, he rings it out harshly and picks up my other wrist doing the same. “What are you doing, Darius?” I finally ask.

This isn’t him, he doesn’t… do this.

He blows out a breath, his hand stills on my wrist. “You are an Heir, I’m an Heir. It’s in our blood, in our soul to make sure the other is alive.” My brows furrow and he stands, throwing the cloth into the water. It makes a splash and I wipe my face where it hit me. I glare at Darius as he turns and goes over to the sink. His back is tense, his muscles straining, and I see darker patches on his black t-shirt. They run down his back in lines, some thin and some a bit thicker, the latter more at the top. Why is he sweating?

“I’ll leave some clothes out on the bed for you, don’t be too long, I’ll be back later.” And then he’s gone, back out of the bathroom, and I look down at the cloth, more confused then ever.

And then I realized he didn’t mention anything about me seeing my pack.

Hello prisoner, my old friend.