CHAPTER 54

(From Rachelle's Perspective)
"Bride?" I mumbled, my breath catching in my throat and causing intense pain. "Stop playing with me!"
"You think I'm playing?" he asked.
"You are. I don't trust you."
"I can't make you trust me right away. But
you will very soon," he said, his voice calm but confident.
"I don't want to come with you," I said, looking pleadingly at him.
"Don't make me force you, Rachelle," he sighed.
I looked around at the dark surroundings, the sound of the wind mingling with the hammering of my heart and his hushed breathing. I had no idea what to do or whom to put my trust in. But there was something about him that made me think I could try to trust him.
"Just give me a chance. You won't regret trusting me," he said gently.
I locked my gaze on him, intently studying him. I nodded after a while. Even I was puzzled as to why I had accepted so quickly.
"Let's go then," he said and offered me hishand. I studied his hand for a moment before slipping my small hand into his large, firm one. His hand was warm like a candle lit from a distance. It took a few moments for my skin to acclimatize to this new sensation.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked.
"To my place."
"Your place? Don't mind my harsh talking, but anyway, you have a lot of money that you... ok, so where do you live? You said we have to walk ten minutes inside the forest. But I mean, as you have a lot of money, you can live in a big town in a very comfortable mansion or something like that. You don't have to live in a forest cabin, I guess. Is it a personal preference or something?"
"Who said I live in a forest cabin?" he asked in a way as if he was amused by myconfused state.
"You live in a forest. So that must be..."
"I don't live in a forest, sweet Rachelle. You'll see in a while. My place is enough for us," he said smiling.
"Then where?"
"You'll see. Come on now."
He suddenly took off the long coat he was wearing. It was black and appeared to be made of high-quality fabric. When I saw him before, he was not wearing that coat. Perhaps he had taken that off when he came here, and then he put it on again. Before I knew what was going on, he had wrapped the coat around me. As I was wearing a short-sleeved long shirt with my shorts, his knuckles brushed over the exposed skin of my upper arm.
Goosebumps appeared all over my body when my skin came into contact with his.
"What... what are you..."
"It's raining. You'll catch a cold," he said normally as if it was nothing but common sense. Perhaps it was, but this act of common sense stood out to me. No one had ever given a damn if I was dying, let alone a simple cold.
"Don't you need it?" I asked.
"No. I don't catch a cold," he replied.
"Thank you," I mumbled.
"Don't thank me for this little thing, my bride. Or you'll get sick thanking me," he said, smiling at me. His smile was not overly broad, but rather a small curl of his brownish pink lips, frigid but full of unspoken feelings.
He led me deep into the forest, his coat,
keeping raindrops off my skin. However,
my face and hair were wet. He had my
hand in his, and for some reason, it gave
me butterflies in my stomach.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?" he asked.
"Marrying me? Why do you want to marry
me?" I asked.
To my surprise, he chuckled. "Because I
want to."
"But why? You're good-looking. You can
have any girl. I don't think a girl with a
bruised body will be a good match for
you," I muttered.
"Hey, look at me," he said, and I obliged.
"Since the moment I laid my eyes on you, I
wanted you."
"When did you see me first?" I asked in a
shaky tone.
"A long time ago."
"When?"
He did not answer me, but kept walking,
not so fast as if he was walking like that
for me. It felt strange walking hand in
hand with a stranger who turned out to be
far too handsome to handle.
The scent of fresh raindrops on the
ground filled my nostrils. But it was not
the smell that made me dizzy. A
hallucinogenic deep masculine smell had
been emitting from him, making me want
to sniff him, pressing my nose on his skin.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Call me Demetrius," he replied.
It seemed like an ancient name, but very
handsome. I liked it, but also wondered
what it would feel like to say his name.
Would it vibrate in my mouth? Would I be
able to say it properly or mess up in the
middle because of overthinking?
I wanted to ask him a lot of things, but I
was not sure if I should. What if he got
annoyed and decided to punish me or
something like that? I did not want to be
struck again.
"Rachelle, you can ask me anything you want.
You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm
your soon-to-be husband. There's no need
to fear me. At least, not you," he said as if
he could read my mind. I was curious as
to what he meant by 'at least not you.' Did
others fear him a lot? It was true that he
appeared cold as if staring at him for an
extended period of time would cause one
to freeze to death. But, based on how he
spoke to me, his appearance appeared to
be the polar opposite of his words.
"Ask me," he urged gently again.
"Do you live alone?"
"No. My family lives with me and there
are servants as well."
I could not tell if what he was saying was
true. That many people would necessitate
a large space. Where exactly did he live?
"Here," he said.
I noticed that we had arrived in what
appeared to be a very dark place, full of
trees and shadows and the sound of small
animals running over small branches,
making snapping noises.
"You live here?" I asked.
"You'll see, my bride," he said with a
smile.
I blushed suddenly at his word. He was
being way too gentle with me and even
calling me his bride even though we met a
few minutes ago. No, I met him a few
minutes ago. But he did not. He said he
had seen me a long time ago.
Was he stalking me? But how was that
possible? He was probably twenty-four or
twenty-five, not more than that.
"Um... can I ask you something?" I
hesitated.
"Yes, my bride."
I gasped once more at this word, but
quickly straightened myself out before
making a fool of myself. "How old are
you?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know... perhaps twenty-five..."
"Close. I'm twenty-four," he replied.
So he was seven years older than me.
Perhaps a little less than seven years, as I
was just two days away from turning
eighteen. The age difference was neither
too great nor too little.
"Is it unsettling?"
"What?"
"The age gap?"
"No. I... I just..."
"It's okay. I'm not too old I guess," he
remarked, and I couldn't help but smile.
His lips curved into a smile as well. It was
perfect; the way his lips curved, his
dimple appeared on his left cheek, and his
eyes softened. Everything seemed to be
making me feel different.
There was a Coast Douglas-fir in front of
us. Both in width and height, the tree was
enormous.
"Coast Douglas-fir," I murmured.
"Yes. How do you know it?" he asked. I
was surprised. I said it so quietly, almost
not making a sound. But he still heard me.
How?
"I read about it. It is also known as
Douglas spruce, Oregon pine, and Pacific
Douglas-fir. It is a species of evergreen
conifer native to western North America,
ranging from west-central British Columbia
in Canada to central California in the
United States. Its range in Oregon and
Washington extends from the Cascades
crest west to the Pacific Coast Ranges and
the Pacific Ocean. It can be found in the
Klamath and California Coast Ranges as far
south as the Santa Lucia Mountains, with
a small stand in the Purisima Hills, Santa
Barbara County. It can be found as far
south as Yosemite in the Sierra Nevada. It
ranges in elevation from near sea level
along the coast to 1,800 meters in the
California Mountains. "And...," I
explained. "Oh, I'm sorry. I actually could
not... stop myself. I have this bad habit of
talking about something I know. I'm
sorry."