Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
At any rate, I was braced for violence the moment I entered the luxurious vehicle. I remember how overwhelmed I was at its opulence the first time Baslik took me someplace in it, back before we were first married. Now that I know it has been paid for with the sweat and tears of his people, I see it in a different way. It is an expensive bauble and the money it cost should have gone to education and clothing and food for the people of the Northern Continent.
However, I said none of that for, as I wrote earlier, I was braced for violence. I know the look Baslik gets in his eye when he’s about to start hitting me. He gets this mean little sneer on his face—almost a grin—and his eyes narrow into slits and his nostrils flare. It is not a face of anger and frustration—rather it is one of enjoyment. He likes hurting me and that is not the way a man should treat his wife—or any woman for that matter.
Baslik was wearing that face when we strapped ourselves into the luxurious pebbled leather lounging chairs, across from each other near the back of the yacht. But strangely, he never laid a hand on me, though he did say the most awful things.
“So, my dear, it seems you’re most enamored of your new Kindred guard,” he remarked, as the yacht lifted off the ground and shot into space.
“Mr. Sark is a very kind and gentle man,” I said carefully, not certain what would set Baslik off. “He also saved my life the other day, at the public appearance.”
“So he did, so he did.” He nodded thoughtfully, but that mean little sneer was still on his face.
How I have grown to loathe that look and honestly, his face in general. I know it is dangerous to write such things, but I cannot help myself—after finally being touched with tenderness by a man, I find I cannot bear the thought of being touched once more with spite and cruelty. I cannot think of Baslik’s clammy hands poking and prodding me without cringing.
Dangerous or not, I must write my true feelings—I have grown to hate my husband and I wish nothing more than to be free of him.
However, I digress for that was not the end of our discussion.
“I suppose you prefer his touch to mine as well,” Baslik remarked, staring at me, as though he was trying to read my thoughts.
I lifted my chin, thinking that if he was determined to hit me, I would give him a good reason to.
“Indeed I do, for he is not cruel to me,” I said, staring Baslik in the face. “He does not pinch or twist my sensitive parts or jam his fingers into my forbidden areas. He does not try to give me pain.”
He scowled.
“And so what of it if I choose to give you pain? I am your husband—it is my right to use your body any way I see fit! You are my property—do not forget it, little mouse.”
“That is not how the Kindred see things,” I said boldly. “They believe that men and women are equals. Mr. Sark says that just because a woman is weaker physically, it does not make her inferior to her male counterpart.”
Baslik swore and spat on the floor in disgust—a shocking display of low, crude manners I have never seen from him before!
“Foolishness and nonsense!” he declared, as I looked on amazed, while the attendant quickly cleaned up the mess he had made. “I had no notion when I hired him that he would be filling your tiny woman’s brain with such claptrap!”
“Why is it foolishness?” I demanded. “Why must you subjugate and dominate everyone around you? What harm would there be if I was my own person with means and rights and—”
“You have no rights!” he leaned forward and shouted in my face. “You do not own yourself—I own you! I bought and paid for you and I will never let you go!”
“I did not say I wished to go, my Lord,” I said, for he was working himself into a frenzy such as I had never seen before.
“Oh, but you do! Of course you do or you wouldn’t have run off that night!” he snapped.
“I told you, I wished to go to my Nana’s memorial service—” I began but he cut me off.
“The only way you’ll ever be free of me is to bear me a son who looks exactly like me and my father, do you hear me?” he snarled. “If you do that, I might let you go. But if you try to run from me again I will hunt you down and this time I will kill you!”
What could I say to such vile threats? I was certain that at any moment he would start beating me and never stop until I was dead. I was frozen in my chair for I knew if he did start, none of the staff would try to stop him. They would look on with impassive faces and let him kill me.