Bad Medicine (Underworld Kings)

“Keeper?” I remember his rule and use it. “I'm cold. Can I... can I have a jacket?” I stutter, my teeth beginning to chatter. It’s most likely not that cold, but my adrenaline has worn off, and the awareness of my situation has sunk in, making my body hypersensitive. Stopping to look me over again, he eyes me suspiciously, seeing if my intentions are that of what I said, and truly they are. When no deception is detected, he removes his black hoodie, handing it to me.

“Thank you,” I whisper, once I place it over my head. His smell clings to it, manly and earthy, and the scent fills me. My stomach flips, and my heart clenches.

Warmth. It brings instant warmth.

“You need the fuel, Arabella. Don’t make me force you to eat,” he says, plating our food. Nodding, I glance at the delicious-smelling pasta he cooked up, and the sight actually makes me want some. It’s been an entire day since I’ve eaten.

I'm ashamed to admit that in my years of marriage, I’ve starved myself. I don’t eat much, trying to remain thin. I don’t do it to make Ferro want me or to keep him. I do it for the opposite effect. He thinks I don’t know about the other women, but I do, and he prefers curves, and I don’t want to give him what he wants. The more I repulse him, the better chance I have of keeping him off me.

Stuck in limbo, where the only thing I’m good for is to give my husband an heir to his fucked-up throne yet I do everything in my power to make sure that never happens, I didn’t necessarily want to die, but I’ve never known what truly living means. As I look down at the plate filled with life-giving colorful veggies, protein, and carbs, for the first time in a long, long time, I want to consume as much as I can—until my belly hurts from being full, not starved. My keeper wants me to eat, and for some reason, I feel the desire to give him everything he wants. So when he lifts me only momentarily to set me down on the stool he pulled out from under the lip of the counter and hands me a fork from the drawer next to his hip, I do something I haven’t in years.

I twirl the pasta around the prongs, lift it to my mouth to blow for a moment as the scented steam wafts up my nose, and then I take a big bite, slurping the noodles between my lips as I let out an unladylike groan. My eyes practically roll to the back of my head at the butter and garlic covered carby goodness, and I catch the twitch of his manly lips as he takes the seat across from me on the other side of the island. He looks rather proud of himself, and I can’t help but soften toward him as he watches me take another bite before finally taking one of his own.

6

DeLuca

Once she saw me, I sensed the change. Arabella was afraid of me, my presence becoming a threat versus anything good. But then as she watched me cook, she seemed to soften toward me. Still, we sit in silence nearly the whole dinner. I can tell she’s itching to berate me with questions. Ones like “Why me?” and “What are you going to do to me?” But after already telling her I’m not going to hurt her before we came inside, I don’t entertain or let her have one moment of peace other than the food. No, instead, I let the anticipation build.

Arabella picks at her food after the first few huge bites, seemingly trying to get out of eating so much of it. As a doctor, I can tell the signs of her struggles with food. Does this beautiful temptress dare to have an eating disorder? I growl, not meaning for it to be heard, but I’m too late. She drops her fork and retreats into herself.

“Did... did I do something wrong?” she stutters.

“Why are you starving yourself, Arabella?” I keep my eyes honed in on her.

“I don’t. I’m just not that hungry.”

“And I didn’t just capture you. Do you mistake me for a fool, principessa?” I stand this time, hovering over her as I lean forward on the table, placing my large hands on the wood in front of me. I scare her more, my intimidating size making her shiver in her place.

Which makes it all the more startling when she speaks.

“Aren’t you a fool? You have no idea who you have kidnapped or what hell is about to rain down on you for taking me.”

And there is my little fighter I knew was hiding just beneath the surface of her seemingly fragile persona. Instantly, my chest swells with both pride and anger. She has no clue that the man she’s trying to threaten me with is the one who sold her out.