His Questions
Serafine POV
I’m confused, he’s not driving, he has a driver. Rogues shouldn’t have loyalty and people to work for them. It feels weird, and I wonder if he is even a rogue? Is this really Xander or did my father lie to me? The seats of the car are smooth and leather, they are softer than anything I’ve touched. I wasn’t permitted to sit on the good furniture at home, only the wooden
chairs.
The scent in the car is Xander, all him. He doesn’t acknowledge me or say anything. Even as the car begins to move he sits silent. Turning, I look outside of the car, focusing on the passing scenery. I feel like I don’t exist and maybe that’s a good thing?
If I don’t exist he won’t hurt me, right? At least that’s what I let my mind tell me. I know it’s foolish and wrong. Still, it’s strange that he hasn’t once acknowledged me, not in the wedding ceremony or in the car.
The silence continues to stretch, each second it feels thicker and heavier. I clutch my bag, I’m not sure why but maybe to help me stay grounded? I’ve no idea where I’m going, and I have no rights to ask either. Still, none of this makes sense. He’s a rogue, did my father not question why he has a car like this and a driver? How didn’t he question Xander’s role as a rogue?
He doesn’t have a pack, land, nothing, where does a rogue call home? Do they even have a space called home? Chancing it, I glance towards him. My eyes focus on the sharp line of his jaw, the way his muscles tick when he breathes out. I’m still focused on his face when his eyes flick towards me, but I quickly look away realising he saw me.
Not asking questions, or speaking, I stay quiet and go back to watching the landscape pass by, knowing that the only place I ever knew as home is not behind me.
The car continues to move smoothly along the road, the hum of the engine is the only sound. There’s still tension in the air, or maybe that’s just me? Maybe I’m anxious and that’s what is making me feel like there’s tension?
I still keep a tight grip on my bag, like it can somehow save me from this.
The trees blur past us, and it feels like we’re travelling for hours, which I guess we are as now the sky is darkening and the sun is dipping in the sky. I’ve no idea where we’re going but it’s far, I know that much.
“there are rules,” Xander states and I freeze, shocked that he is speaking to me after hours of silence. I don’t turn to face him, I simply take in his deep and commanding voice. It’s the kind of voice that doesn’t need to be raised to have an impact.
“You won’t run,” he continues. “I don’t care what you’re used to, but if you try to run, I will make sure that you regret it.”
I swallow hard, keeping my eyes on the glass.
“You will have your own room, with everything in it that you need,” he adds, and I blink, surprised by the statement. “I don’t share my bed.”
Exhaling slowly, I take that in. I should be grateful right, it should be a relief but it’s not. I’m not sure why, but that doesn’t feel like a saving grace.
“But when I want you, you will give in to me.”
His words have my stomach flipping, I squeeze my fingers tighter around the fabric of my bag. I should have known that was coming, of course it was. That’s what he wants. This isn’t a real marriage, it’s a transaction. My body is part of that transaction. Trying to push down the unease clawing at my throat, I try to remind myself that I’ve survived far worse, and that this, isn’t something that I can control.
“You will do good to remember that I don’t tolerate disobedience, and I expect complete honesty from you.” His voice is still cold and emotional. It sounds like he’s reciting a list of demands. “Tell me, have you found your mate?”
The question throws me, it’s nothing like the conversation. The fact is, I was meant to feel the bond when I turned eighteen and I didn’t. It’s another reason my pack are disgusted with me. “No, I have no mate.”
He looks at me confused. “Have you had anyone? Have you been with anyone at all?”
Hesitating, my fingers dig into my thigh. I can feel my face burning up, and I hate how embarrassed I feel right now. ir what he’s asking, and I know he will hate the answer. “No I haven’t,” I reply. “I’m still a virgin.”
N
He makes a sound low in his throat, almost like approval. Everything goes silent again. For a long moment he doesn’t say anything to me. He doesn’t react other than that original noise. I force myself to glance at him from the corner of my eye. When i do, he’s watching me intently and it sends a cold shover through me. His golden eyes flick up to my face and there’s something unreadable in his expression.
Then he shifts, taking a breath like I hadn’t said that and begins to conversation again. “How old are you?”
Hesitating I don’t answer, I thought he would have known that? “I’m twenty–three.”
His Questions
His eyes flicker, and I see he’s thinking something. Maybe wondering how I still don’t have a mate? Either way he doesn’t say anything else. He simply looks outside and keeps his expression blank.
I feel like my answers mattered to him, but I don’t know why, I’m not sure what sort of woman he thought he was paying for. If it was an experienced one, he’s in for a shock as I have no experience at all. None.
