FEIGHNING MARRIAGE

I latch my eyes on the satchels laying in my room, and a familiar sense of this tickles the adrenaline. The last time I saw something like this, it was back in Mombasa, in my condominium, and he was moving in with me. It was sweet and incoherent at the same time. I felt like he was rushing things too hastily, yet deep inside I was over the moon with the fact that, in a way, he was all mine. I felt like some magic was forcing it on me, yet I could wrap my finger around what it was.


Now, as we rack before each other in my room like this, his satchels lounging in front of us on the floor, it epitomizes the same sight and elicits the same old feeling, only that this time we are compelled by several factors. This is not out of love for each other or free will. We need to put on a cogent act before everyone and make it seem and feel real. Leaving the castle isn't an option; I simply can't leave the witches here, and I haven't found solid grounds to kick their asses out. So, instead of the supposed bride moving in with the bridegroom, it's vice versa.

We are supposedly married, so until the charade is over, my supposed husband will be living with me not just in my house but in my room. We will not just share a room, but a bed too. We will sleep under the covers together, and hopefully, we won't be consumed by the heat underneath those covers. Too bad, I don't have an extra bed in this room or even a couch and anything that can arouse suspicions is out of the question. So, let's hope this will be bearable for both of us.

"You understand why we have to do this, right?" Damian speaks after a decade of total silence.


Of course, I understand. I am just fearful that we will be coerced to do something that we both will regret later. Now that I know what we are into, the chemistry we share is stirring my emotions sparingly, and I am afraid I can't control it. What if we mess up? What if this gets out of control? Ooh, I know! We have to come to an agreement. There is some sort of agreement on the dos and don'ts.

"Aaah. Yes, I fully understand, Damian, but..." I take a step away from him, and unfortunately for me, the only place I could choose to stand is at the edge of the bed.


"But?" He cranes his neck to the side, taking small tickling strides to get to where I am.

If I tell him to stop on his track, he will sense that I am afraid of him, and of course, not as a monster but as someone who can bring me to my knees, begging for sex in a flicker. I plant my feet firmly on the floor and try to scour for my mislaid voice as he towers before me, his strong gaze daring me to speak up.

"We haven't talked about this. How are we supposed to cope? You know, like..." I take another step back, gathering more oxygen because, apparently, the heat in this room is sucking the air out of my lungs.

Come on, me!

"Like...?" He challenges us again, closing the gap between us.

Yeah, he knows what he is doing. He knows why I am acting like this. "You know what I am talking about." I spit out, gazing into his glowing, dark orbs.

"No, dear wifey," even his alone betrays him. He knows what I am talking about, and he is doing his best to intimidate me. 'I don't know what you are talking about. Can you enlighten me?"

Somebody tell me he is not being a daring seductive jerk right now. He probably knows I am shuddering at his closure right now. It has not even been a day since he supposedly became my husband, and this is what he is doing to me.

"Wifey? What is wrong? Scared of your husband this soon?" He teases, a dangerous joke, because I am indeed scared of him. "Come on! We haven't even gotten on that bed, and you are already scared."

I think we should never get on that bed. Not at any cost, or at least, not together. We should probably sleep standing like this. Or perched at my coffee table. Or have sleeping shifts. Anything except getting under those sheets together.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" I query after summoning some ounces of courage.

He smirks. And this smirk. "No. It is you who have some naughty, wild imaginations running through your head, baby! Tell me, though, what are you thinking?"

So he is playing innocent, huh? Then I pleaded guilty to his indictments. If I don't speak now, I will have no one but myself to blame when things go south.

My legs' ability to stand is under threat, but I manage to urge some strength on them as I speak, crossing my hands on my chest to put some tiny bridge between our chests.

"I am thinking that we need some bed rules, hubby! Because, you see, I know you too well, and I know myself pretty well too. We both know that anything can happen under those sheets the moment we tuck ourselves beneath them. Something neither of us can control," I state, and he smirks.

That devilish smirk that makes you shiver with heat. Shit! I had to look away for a minute and cross my legs to soothe the irritating throb down there.

"Don't tell me you are already aroused when I haven't even done a thing! Do I really have this much control over you, wife?" His voice echoes with an alluring, icy tone that increases the adrenalin rush.

He traces the back of his fingertips on the delicate sides of my neck, leaning in to feed me his sexy, hot pheromones. My entire body is under siege. I swallowed a huge pile of air that almost made me choke my lungs out. He chuckles, and I pull away from his seductive touches and take yet another step back.

"You do. Happy now?" I spit it out.

He lit the entire room with his broad, bewitching smile as he chuckled. He must be feeling like number one for achieving his goal. "I am. Who wouldn't be?" He mocks with a triumphant grin.

"I know you also can't resist me, or are you going to deny that?" I challenge, and his smirk fades, a dark look invading his eyelids.

Ooh, the cat caught his tongue, huh? "State your rules!" He roars.

Ahem!