“Am I a slave then?”
“What on earth are you trying to say?” Kennard’s expression turned colder, his voice gradually lowering. The shift in tone was more unnerving to Elena than when he raised his voice, a signal that he was suppressing his anger.
Kennard’s pheromones thickened, their weight constricting Elena’s throat. She averted her gaze, staring through the floor as she swallowed hard, determined not to show further signs of trembling. Calming herself, she slowly lifted her head, meeting Kennard’s gaze directly.
“I am not someone belonging to you, Your Grace. So, even if I decide to leave this castle, you have no right to stop me.” Elena asserted herself, speaking firmly. Sensing a need to escape, she continued, “If you don’t want me to live in the village, I’ll go to another area. Thank you so much for everything.” Elena bowed toward Kennard and swiftly turned away, demonstrating no intention of awaiting his response. She simply sought to leave this place behind.
With a door conveniently positioned right behind her, all she needed to do was turn the handle and usher herself into freedom. As the handle yielded to her touch, the thick door swung open without a creak, maintaining a ghostly silence.
Just as she poised to cross the threshold, a sudden, thunderous bang echoed through the office. A forceful wind surged from behind, causing the door to slam shut abruptly. The air resonated with the sound as if a storm had erupted within those confined walls. Startled, Elena found herself rooted in place, her heart plummeting before launching into a frenetic rhythm.
Swift as lightning, Kennard had approached from his chair and sealed the door behind Elena. More astonishing to her than the door’s loud closure was the revelation that Kennard had been right on her heels. She could feel his racing heartbeat and elevated body temperature against her back. Awkwardly, she turned her head like a rigid puppet, fixing her gaze on Kennard’s arm now anchoring the door with his palm. Trapped between the imposing door and Kennard’s sturdy frame, she found herself immobilized.
Kennard’s voice, dripping with anger, pierced through the silence. “Are you defying my orders and attempting an escape?” His breath washed over Elena’s head as she, attempting to maneuver around him, was further impeded by his arm encircling her waist, thwarting her every move.
The tightly pressed bodies left no room for negotiation, anger palpable in the air. “Your Grace, please release me,” she implored.
Elena found herself unable to discern Kennard’s expression as he loomed behind her. While she had anticipated some resistance to her desire to leave the castle for the village, the vehement opposition took her by surprise. A veil of frustration cloaked her as she grappled with the question: Why was he behaving this way?
The query lingered unanswered, for Kennard remained reticent. The lack of explanation intensified Elena’s sense of suffocation, the weight of her frustration bearing down on her.
“You are neither my servant nor a slave,” Kennard’s voice, a gentle yet commanding whisper, reached her ears, sending a shiver down her spine. His breath, a tangible presence against her ear, left her speechless, as if an invisible force had sealed her lips.
“But…” Elena attempted to voice her thoughts, only to be met with Kennard’s abrupt silence, elongating the breathless pause. The moment hung heavy, filled only with the quiet tension between them.
“You belong to me. Don’t think you can escape from me,” Kennard’s words, delivered with unwavering determination, left Elena bewildered.
“But you…”
“You are mine. The only one who can have you is me.”
