Page 55 of His to Bedevil

I nod, and Alejo gestures for the guard to open the door and let me inside. As soon as I step in, the door shuts behind me. The room is exactly how I remembered mine. There’s just one dimly lit light that illuminates only the center of the room where Matches is. I stand there frozen as I take in his physical appearance. He’s restrained to a chair, and his head is slumped forward as if he’s passed out or asleep.

I step forward to get a closer look, and I see him stir a little. His golden-colored hair is greasy and dirty as it hangs there all disheveled. He’s probably in the same clothes he wore when he was taken. A blue T-shirt and some dark-blue jeans. He’s wearing no shoes though.

“Matches?” I ask quietly, and he stirs again. Taking another couple of steps forward, I call out to him again. “Matches? It’s Fynn.”

He groans and tries to lift his head. When he peers up at me through his dark eyelashes, I can see his face some. It’s battered and bruised, and there’s dried blood all over it. “Fynn?” he croaks, and I do my best not to gasp and run to him. Alejo didn’t need to tell me that I can’t touch him. I know I can’t.

I inch forward a little more and drop to my knees just a couple of feet in front of him. “Yeah, it’s me.”

He groans again and manages to lift his head a little more. I can see his face better, and it infuriates me. Alejo and I are going to have to do some renegotiating here. Death would almost be more humane than this. “You look good.” He attempts a smile, but it reopens the split on his lip, producing fresh blood. “Alejandro wouldn’t tell me where you were, only that you were still alive. I feared that you were being held captive same as me.”

I lick my dry lips and swallow. “I was, but he, uh… he…” I trail off because I have no idea how the fuck to explain this. “I’m living inside of his home.”

“You’re what?” He frowns.

I sigh and rub the tops of my thighs. “I’m living with Alejo. He kind of… kept me.” It’s hard to explain something that you don’t quite understand yourself.

He’s still frowning, not at all getting what I’m saying. “He’s kept you? As what exactly? Does he rape you?” He makes a good effort at sneering.

I shake my head no. “No, he hasn’t raped me.”

“Have you slept with him?” He sounds more horrified than when he asked if he raped me.

“No!” I shake my head again. “No, I have not slept with him.”

He frowns once again. “Then explain to me, Fynn. Why is he keeping you? What do you even mean by that?”

I sigh. “I’m not even sure myself. Look, I don’t have much time left, but I want you to know that I’m okay and that he’s not going to kill you.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Of course he’s going to kill me, Fynn. Why the hell would he keep me alive?”

I chew on my bottom lip and look away. “Just trust me, okay?” I say quietly.

“What did you promise him, Fynn?” he orders, knowing there’s a catch.

“I have to marry him,” I say just above a whisper, and timidly meet his eyes.

“No. Don’t do it,” he says firmly.

“I’m not going to let him kill you. And besides, it’s not like if I refuse to marry him even though he’ll kill you, he’ll let me go. He’s made it very clear that he won’t.”

He studies me for a long moment, and I know I’m down to my last minute with him. “When are you supposed to marry him?”

“Tomorrow.”

“No, Fynn. Do not do this. It’s not worth it,” he pleads.

“I don’t want you to die!” I say, raising my voice in frustration. If I can save his life, then I’ll do it.

“I don’t want you to marry him!” he roars, and I flinch a little.

“I don’t have a choice,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Yes, you do, Fynn.”

“Yeah, either marry him or he kills you. Choice is super simple, right?” I say dryly.

“He’ll kill me anyway! How can you not see that?” He blanches and pauses for a moment. His face and his voice suddenly soften. “And when he gets bored with you, he’ll kill you too.”