Chapter 33

The body made a small muffled thump when it hit the floor. Naomi felt sick. That furry lifeless lump was Mr. Squibbles.

“Oh my God, you killed him.”

Tavik wasn’t paying attention to her. He was trying to reach around to pull Agatha off his back. He was going around in circles with the cat just out of his grasp.

“Get your damn cat off me!”

Naomi approached him, but she didn’t grab Agatha. She began slapping him on his arms and shoulders. “You killed him!”

“Naomi, what are you doing? Stop it!” He grabbed her wrists and shook her. “What is the matter with you? Get the cat!” Naomi could just make out Agatha’s eyes from over his shoulder. They were slitted in rage. Tavik hissed as feline claws ripped deeper into his back. Tears began to stream from Naomi’s eyes.

“Don’t you get it? You killed him!”

“So? It was just a mouse!”

So? Just a mouse? Was? Naomi didn’t know which part angered her more, but each certainly did anger her. She struggled to free herself and kicked at Tavik’s legs. Tavik didn’t seem so much hurt by the attack as extremely aggravated by it. Agatha was hurting him. Naomi had noticed drops of blood had appeared on the floor.

“Naomi, get this damn cat off of me, or I will kill it.”

“You would, just like Mr. Squibbles. Why not kill Yula too? She’s my friend. She cares about me. And if that isn’t enough, kill Stomper too! I like him, and he seems okay with me.”

“What are you babbling about?”

“I’m talking about my friends! Did you notice your name wasn't included?”

He shook his head. “I want you to sit and calm down. I’ll have someone fetch Yula to come help you back to your room.”

“Room? You mean cell. And I won’t sit down.”

Naomi struggled to free her arms. She was going to claw his eyes out. He just didn’t get it. He’d killed Mr. Squibbles. It didn’t matter to him. Of course, it didn’t matter. He was a murderer. He slaughtered people everyday. He liked it. He was a monster. And he was pushing her toward the bed.

“No, I’m not getting near your bed. Let me go!”

“You need to sit down.”

“No!” But Tavik forced her back. Naomi had to step back or else loose her balance. She stepped back, and her foot came down on a lump, and with sickening horror, she realized she had stepped on the small corpse. She slipped and went down, taking Tavik with her. She felt a sickening sense of déjà vu, but the current situation was nothing like the last time. She landed on her back. He caught one arm on the bed and kept himself from landing flat on her. Seeing him above her like that, she reached up and grabbed the mask and wrenched it off. The mask went flying across the room. Tavik blinked down at her. For a moment, everyone froze.

She stared up at his face. He was shaved bald. She had known that already. His eyebrows were black, wide, and arched on a prominent brow. His wolf blue eyes were framed by long black eyelashes. If such a thing existed on that world, everyone would assume he was wearing mascara. His cheeks were clean shaven and smooth. His nose had a slight hook to it and made him look predatory. His mouth was not too much of a surprise either having felt it before. It was large with firm lips. He had a square jaw with a small cleft. If he smiled, he would be handsome. His head was pale due to constantly being covered by his helm. It made the tattoo centered on his forehead starkly visible. It was dark blue and was a demon’s face with evil slanted eyes and long fangs. Naomi knew her mouth was hanging open. She’d done it, and now she was as dead as Mr. Squibbles.

Tavik’s mouth thinned to a narrow line. “I wish you hadn’t done that.” He let her go to reach behind his back and grabbed Agatha by the scruff of her neck. He tossed her across the room. Agatha scrambled away to hide. Her eyes weren’t narrow in rage anymore. They were wide with fear. They couldn’t be wider than Naomi’s. She stared up him. She couldn’t move. She could not feel her limbs. It felt like rigor mortis was already setting in. He pushed himself to his feet and offered a hand to her.

She took it limply. He pulled her up and set her on the bed. All the protest had left her. She could not stop staring at his face; after all, it was the reason she was going to die. He grimaced and paced to the table. He sank into a chair and stared at her.

“Well, what now?” he asked.

Naomi didn’t answer. She was trying to compose her last words.

“Naomi, what is going on? What did you hope to achieve by this? And what is this with the mouse?” The body lay crushed in the middle of the floor. It was the saddest thing she had ever seen. The small crumpled lump did not compute with the strong-willed, often foul-mouthed rodent Naomi had come to like and trust.

She dropped her head. “He was my friend,”

“That mouse? Naomi,” he sighed. He sounded very sad for her, not in the way that he was sorry for her loss, but that the loss meant anything to her, like she was pathetic.

“He was helping me! He was one of the few beings in this castle who really cared about me and what I wanted. He didn’t think it was all right to tie me up like some Christmas goose. He was going to help me get back to my family. You might not believe this, but I had a life before I was forced to marry you! I have two loving parents, a brother, a job, a home, and a future that I would really like to get reacquainted with!”

“You were conspiring with a mouse.” He shook his head. He reached over and picked up his wine glass. He drank it like he really needed it. Naomi crossed her arms and slouched on the side of the bed. She didn't need to explain herself any further to him. He was going to kill her in the near future for the simple offense of seeing his face. If he thought she was crazy, what the hell was he?

“I don’t even know what your stupid tattoo means. That’s why you wear the mask right? Because you don’t want people to see it. Well, now I’ve seen it, but I don’t have a fucking clue what it is. So just remember that when you’re killing me. I’m dead because I saw your stupid tattoo, and I have no idea what its big deal is, and I don’t fucking care. I don’t fucking care about you or your stupid, ugly tattoo.”

He rubbed his head while shaking it. “I’m not going to kill you. My tattoo is important. I wish you hadn’t seen it, but I can’t erase the memory from your mind.”

“I’m sure you would if you could. It’s not like I’m really your wife or anything. What’s wrong with erasing one memory anyway? Why not just give me a lobotomy? Then I’ll sit here nice and quiet like a good little enslaved wife, though I may drool a bit, but that’s okay, you can just put a bib on me.”

He rubbed his head more like he was getting a headache. “Naomi, we agreed at the very beginning that you would not try to see my face in return for not sharing my bed, obviously that deal has been broken. We need to formulate a new deal.”

She arched both her eyebrows. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to uphold any deals, seeing as how I’ll be dead.”

“I am not going to kill you!” She jumped and shrank back on the bed. The shout seemed to unsettle Tavik too. He blinked a moment and shook his head. He grabbed the wine cup and took another hearty drink. When he lowered it, he frowned, rubbed his eyes, and looked at the cup still in his hand. He sniffed the rim.

“How did you--” And then keeled over onto the floor.

Continue to Chapter 34.