Her Strength

Eat

There was no real security in the household.

    I’d stayed in the bedroom for a few minutes, pacing, thinking, deciding.  There’s a jaguar outside.  A jaguar.  But he was a man too and the man seemed—well, he seemed annoyed with me but not cruel.  Not vicious.  My “personal guard”?  What does that even mean?

    After a few moments of weighing pros and cons, thinking about what it would mean to be mauled to death by a large jungle cat, I finally walked out into the hallway.

    Long, stark, clear of portraits or art—I wandered down the hallway cautiously.

    Empty.

    The rooms were empty.

    Was every room empty?

    Why were there so many rooms?

    When I reached a large, picturesque white kitchen, I found Paola was checking the oven and the smell—I scrunched my nose.  It was a delicious scent, I was certain that I should enjoy it, but my stomach churned, mouth going dry.  I was hungry but . . .

    “Thirsty?”

    It was Xavier, standing before me and he was dressed differently.

    Adorned in a suit, he was adjusting his cuff links as he looked me over, his wild curls looking wet, almost tame.  “Paola, some wine for the lady, please?”

    The older woman straightened, shooting an annoyed look in our direction as she shut the oven.  Huffy, unhappy—I averted my gaze from her, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.

    “How’s the view?” he wondered, quirking a brow.

    I had to admit this man was becoming very annoying.  “Unimpressive.”

    “And I suppose the bath wasn’t to your taste either?”  He smirked, amused with my obvious disdain for him.  Why would being disliked be considered amusing to him?

    “Certainly not,” I agreed, narrowing my eyes.

    He nodded.  “You’ll get along great with Kai.”

    “Who?”

    “Quel grosso gatto davanti,” Xavier snickered.

    I had no idea what he’d said.  Something about a cat.  “The . . . um, jaguar?  That’s his name?”

    He smiled then and it was . . . disarming.  Narrowing my eyes at him, I wondered who would ever allow such a vain tyrant to look so charming.  “Paola has prepared lasagna for your meal tonight.”

    “You won’t be gracing me with your presence?”  It came out dry.  Obviously I hoped that might just be the case.

    “Unfortunately no.  I have a conference to attend.”

    He’s a King.  The Circle of King Conference.  Cronan.  He’ll see Cronan.

    “Don’t worry, coure mio, I won’t be gone long.”  He was already picking up the glass of red wine that Paola had just poured for us, holding it out to me.

    I eyed it, pursing my lips.

    “Your eyes changed just now, love.”

    My eyes?

    I glared up at him and he smiled.  “You fed last night but I’m sure you’re hungry, hm?”  Sloshing the liquid in the cup, the tips of his lips raised subtly.

    Glancing back down at the liquid, I realized it was thick.

    A deep maroon.

    “That’s not wine.”

    “I like to mix a bit of blood into my wines.  It’s fresh.”

    Taking a step backwards, I pursed my lips at him.  “I’m human.”

    “You’re pregnant,” he reminded me, eyes shifting to my stomach.

    My hand pressed to my abdomen automatically and I noticed . . . a lump?  A hard lump at my lower abdomen, small but . . . noticeable.  Glancing downward, I tried not to seem too startled at the sudden development, but when Xavier started humming, this deep noise in the back of his throat, taking a step closer, I shrunk backwards.

    “How long has it been since conception?” he asked, eying me curiously.

    “Why is that any of your business?”  I glared at him, tone taking a sharp edge.

    He was closer now, too close, hovering, humming.  What is with this species and trying to hum their victims into submission?  Reaching out, anxious, I went to shove him but he took a willing step back, avoiding the contact.  “It’s natural for us to . . . intimidate.  Dominate.  That’s not my intention.”  Another step back, he shifted his gaze to Paola.  “Make sure she eats.  She’s with child.”  The older woman looked alarmed at the revelation, then huffed, shaking her head as she turned her back to us.  Xavier’s lip quirked upward at the woman’s obvious contempt, turning back to offer me an amused expression.  “Be well, coure mio,” he said before downing the drink he’d offered, setting the empty glass down on the counter before breezing out of the room.

    I made sure to take note of which direction he’d gone.

    There must be an exit that way.

    “How old are you, girl?” Paola asked.  She wasn’t looking at me, too busy pulling out lasagna.  It was fresh and yet I couldn’t enjoy the scent at all.  Couldn’t indulge.  Something was definitely off about my senses because it looked wonderful.  “I know you can speak,” she said over her shoulder, pursing her lips at me.  “You look young.  Too young to bear a child.”

    “Seventeen.”

    “A baby,” she sniffed.  “Both of you.  Two babies having a baby.”

    Wait.  Both of us?  “Excuse me?”

    “Xavier is too young—”

    “Xavier isn’t the father.”  It was defensive, sharp.  What had he told her?  Was he going to try to . . . claim me?  My child?  Hadn’t he called me his sister?

    She turned then, appraising me differently now.  Less tense, her expression seemed less dark.  “If he is not the father, why are you here?”

    Was it possible that Xavier has told her nothing of the situation?  “It’s a mistake.”

    “Xavier Rosario doesn’t make mistakes,” the woman said with a firm shake of her head.  This was the second time hearing the same ominous statement.   When I didn’t say anything for a long moment, the woman gestured to the seat at large kitchen island.  “Sit.”

    I hesitated, shifting my body.

    I could run.

    Make a break for it.

    Jaguar be damned.

    Xavier had just left, Luca wasn’t anywhere in sight and—shifting sideways, to glance toward my potential exit, I stiffened when I found Kai standing in the doorway.

    In human form this time, he was thankfully dressed now in a black t-shirt and shorts and hardly glanced in my direction, moving right over toward the food.  He leaned forward, sniffing and Paola sighed, rolling her eyes.  “Must you do that every time?”

    “You’re an angel, Paola,” he said, already plopping down into one of the seats.

    “Don’t try to butter me up, boy.  I know you came into this house with muddy paws earlier.”  She was glaring down her nose at him but he seemed unabashed, too interested in the food before him.  Then her eyes were on me and she gestured to the seat next to him.  “Come, girl.  Take a seat.”

    I didn’t budge.

    Didn’t speak.

    Kai seemed to notice, turning to look at me now, waiting.

    It was kind of stressful carrying the weight of both of their gazes.  Where Paola was quickly losing patience with me, Kai just quirked a brow.  “I know you’re not deaf.”  Turning back to Paola, he added, “She might be a tad slow though.  Tried to jump from the second story balcony earlier.”

    “She still thinks she can escape,” Paola sighed.  “You’ll have your hands full with a girl like that running about the villa.”

    Kai rolled his eyes, turning his back to me as Paola set a plate of food in front of him.  “Why did he bring her here in the first place?  It’s been years since we’ve had a guest and now there’s two. And they’re Americans no less—”

    Two.  Zech.  “Where is he?” I breathed, taking a step closer now.

    Kai glanced back at me now, annoyed.

    “Is he okay?  He’s alive, right?”  My heart was racing.  Zech is here.  He just confirmed it.  He’s here.  Turning forward again, his back was to me as he started eating.  “Kai, please—”

    “He’s alive,” he said, kicking at the stool next to him.  “Now eat.”

    He’s alive.

    The relief that flooded through me was immediate.  Still, I didn't know where he was and in what state.  He'd been knocked unconscious somehow.  Something must've happened to him the night I was taken and I still didn't know what.

    "The food will get cold," Paola added, impatient.

     I didn't want to eat.  How could I eat right now?  I had to find Zech.  To get out of here.

    It also didn't help that my revulsion of the food hadn’t lessened any.

    “Now,” Kai pressed, turning to glare at me.

    I glanced toward the doorway.

    “If you run now, you won’t make it to the hallway.”  His voice was calm, exuding certainty.

    And he was right, of course.

    I'd never been athletically capable and he's . . . half jaguar.  Is that what you'd call it?  Half?

    Glaring down at the ground, I stomped over to the chair furthest from him, taking a seat.

    Kai huffed, going back to eating and Paola set a plate in front of me.

    I averted my eyes, scrunching my nose.

    “Is what I cook not good enough for you, girl?” Paola asked.

    Glancing up at her, I watched her take a step backwards, expression shifting toward one of fear.

    Kai took notice of the shift and I could feel his eyes on us.

    Paola, swallowing nervously, walked over and grabbed the wine, pouring another glass before setting it before me with a shaky hand.  I could smell it from where I was situated now.  Metallic.

    Nausea swept through me.

    Pushing it away from myself, I averted my gaze toward the far wall.

    Whatever is in that glass is not what I need.

    I'd rather starve to death than try it.

    "Do I have to force feed you?" Kai asked, voice taking a deeper timber than normal.

    Turning, I leveled him with a look, tilting my chin upward.  "You can try."

    He growled.  It wasn't like the growls I'd heard from the Purebloods--no, it was definitely the noise of a feline.  "Calm now," Paola said, resting her hand on his shoulder.  "Eat.  If she wants to starve her child, that's her decision."

    Kai did as she'd suggested but, lips in a thin line, eyes narrowed, Paola watched me in disdain.

    She didn't understand.

    Couldn't.

    Averting my eyes back toward the wall, I ignored the rumble of my stomach.

    It's not simply that I won't eat.  I . . . can't.