Beyond His Control (His 2)

When we get back inside, the party continues in the common room. The fireplace is already crackling, and there are drinks and food on the table. The president sits down on the best seat with his two girls, each on each knee, and he toys with them in front of Marsha.

The look on her face darkens, and she turns toward the food and drinks table.

I stand near the door with Natalie, where there’s a window to look outside. She’s gaping at the people down there, who are all walking back to their huts in neat little lines. The candles they hold to light their way surely provide a grand spectacle and must be a feast to the eye.

But I’m not at all interested in something I’ve seen a million times before …

I’m more worried about Marsha.

I tilt my head a little so I can gaze past the chairs and see what she’s doing. She’s bent over the table, holding some kind of glass in her hand, but I can’t see what she’s pouring in. I wonder if she’s making him a drink … or something for herself to ease the pain.

It must be tough to witness the fall of your marriage and on top of that, be scarred for life too. He fished her out of the real world only to forget she even exists years later.

I won’t ever forget about Natalie.

I won’t let anything or anyone come between us.

With my index finger, I caress her cheek, and she looks up in surprise and with a smile on her face that could light a thousand hearts on fire. And I know, right there and then, that I picked the right girl.

“I’m gonna go and grab a drink,” I say. “Want something?”

She shakes her head. “I’m good, thanks.” She yawns and covers her mouth. “Might go to bed soon.”

“Of course.” I grab her hand and press a kiss on it. “Don’t wait up for me.”

She smirks. “Like we’re even allowed to sleep in the same bed …?”

“Why not?” I shrug. “If you want to.”

She narrows her eyes. “Is this some kind of test?”

“No test,” I reply. “Who’s gonna catch us?”

She crosses her arms. “You’re sure the guards won’t follow me?”

“I don’t think they’re into watching other patriarchs sleep, so no.” She snorts, and I give her a kiss on the cheeks. “But don’t hold it against me if I get a little touchy at night.”

The sparkle in her eyes are clearly visible even though she tries to hide it by looking away. “I can handle you.”

“Of course, you can,” I retort. “But you’ll have to excuse me now. I’m a little thirsty.” I lick my lips. “And I don’t mean for your pussy because I already got my fill today.”

Her eyes widen. “Noah!” she whispers out loud, but I’ve already turned around and walked off.

I love to leave her with an inkling of shame.

Not the kind that makes you mortified but the kind that makes your heart throb.

But right now, I’m more focused on something else going on. Something at that food and drinks table where Marsha is still fumbling with glasses.

I approach her from behind, glancing over my shoulder a couple of times to make sure no one’s noticing us. I don’t want to put her on the spot, but at the same time I need to know what she’s doing.

I know this woman, and I know what she’s capable of … What she desires the most. And her behavior since the celebrations has put me on edge.

I peer over her shoulder from the side, careful not to let her notice … or anyone else for that matter. I pull a cigar from my pocket and light it as a way to distract while I keep an eye on her.

Her hands shake while she pours something into the glass. It’s from a tiny vial, the same one I’ve seen the women carry along with them to a birthing ritual sometimes. But why would she put that into a drink? There are no pregnant women here.

She immediately hides the vial inside her cloak and proceeds to stir the drink with hands that tremor more and more. My eyes narrow as she picks up the glass and turns her head … to gaze at her husband.

Then she notices me.

She pauses, her body rigid, her facial expression looking numb and as though she saw a ghost.

I quickly step forward, right as she’s about to drop the glass, and I clench her hands tightly around it so it doesn’t fall.

“Careful now … don’t want to attract any attention to yourself,” I murmur, raising a brow.

She shudders, her lip quivering as she looks at me with terror in her eyes.

“What’s in there?” Still holding her hands, I lean in and whisper into her ear, “I won’t tell … I promise.”