Chapter 23: Taran

I throw the blanket off my legs and stand. Something feels off. I approach the window and look out over the city. Dawn is just arriving, lighting the city in a golden path. The beauty of the natural world slowly encroaching on what was once human territory always steals my breath. Especially when I can view it from high up. Though I detest many of the things that have come out of the Great Fall, I can't entirely fault the planet for taking back its own. For reclaiming the surface that humans had spent centuries destroying.
I check the window, just to be sure. Yup, Diogo did indeed have it nailed shut. I pick at the nails for a few minutes trying to see if there's any give. Of course, there isn't. I'd need some tools and more strength than I possess to get them out. I turn and head for the door, seeking out the reason for this strange feeling I have. Like something's not right.
It's absurd, I've been here for less than a day, how should I know what's right or not in Diogo's world? Yet, he is my caretaker now my husband. If something happens to him, it's entirely likely that I'll revert back to police custody and the Judge will resurrect my charges and the death sentence.
I open the door and step directly into the path of a man nearly the same size and fierceness as Diogo. I jump back and clutch the edges of my shirt together. His eyes follow the movement and then quickly move past me to fix on the wall behind me.
"Can I help you, Mrs. Fuentes?" he asks coolly.
I look him over. Uniform, weapons, cold, angry look. He's a military man. There aren't nearly as many as there are police. The city's military is made up of men with certain skills that will benefit the Authority. These men are handpicked by Diogo. I've spent my career in the rebellion avoiding men like this. The city police are a joke compared to the precision and brutality of the military.
"Where is my" I hesitate. Calling him my husband will probably get better results, but I can't seem to bring myself to say the word. "Where is Commander Fuentes?"
His eyes flick briefly to mine and I see the same look of death shared by most of his brethren. "Commander Fuentes was called away."
"Well aren't you helpful," I say sarcastically. "So you're here, to what, guard me? Make sure I don't run away while his lordship is out?"
His lip twitches in annoyance at my blatant lack of respect. I don't care. Diogo hasn't earned any from me. Kidnapping and forced marriage will get him nothing but scorn from me. And this man is his puppet.
"I'm here to attend you, Mrs. Fuentes."
Uh huh, attend my ass. This man is nothing more than an over-grown, super deadly babysitter. "What's your name?" I demand, heading toward the kitchen, still holding the two halves of Diogo's shirt together.
He doesn't move, but he follows my every move with watchful eyes. "Garrett," he grunts. He doesn't give me a last name, a family house, or a military designation. Interesting, he either doesn't want me to know or doesn't identify with anything. Maybe a mixture of the two. There are plenty of us orphans floating around the Sanctuary cities. Maybe Garrett identifies purely as military. They've become his family. I wouldn't be surprised if Diogo picked men with an eye toward those in need of family. They'd be more loyal to him.
"Are you hungry, Garrett?" I ask, rifling through the cupboards. Even though I ate my fill only a few hours ago, I'm starving again. My stomach is growling and the urge to eat, which I've spent so long suppressing, is rising up.
Garrett ignores my question as I go through the cupboards, finally deciding on a can of peaches. It seems like such a treat. A rarity and an extravagance. I wonder if Diogo was saving them for something. I decide I don't care. I want them so I'm going to eat them. That's the price of taking on a captive wife, she gets to eat all the food and steal all the hot shower water.
I dig some more until I find a can opener and smile happily as I open the can. The tangy scent of peaches and syrup tease me. My mouth waters and I can hardly wait to finish prying the lid off before I'm digging in with my bare fingers. I sigh in contentment as I shove the first wedge into my mouth. Sticky syrup drips down my chin and over my fingers. I don't care. I'm so pleased with my discovery that I'd tip the entire can upside down in my mouth if I had a bigger mouth and didn't think I'd choke.
I devour about half the can before finally slowing down. I glance over to see Garrett watching, his eyes glued to me. His gaze trails down my front and I realize in my hurry to get at the peaches I let the shirt gape open again. This little soldier is going to get himself into big trouble if he keeps staring at me like that. I suspect his commander wouldn't be impressed. Still, if I can use his distraction to my advantage then I will.
I smile at him, showing my teeth. I lick the syrup off my lips and say, "You sure you don't want any, Garrett?" I deliberately purr his name. I don't have many feminine wiles but the few I do have are in full force. My mission is to get information and this boy looks ripe for the picking.
Before he can answer, the door to the stairwell slams open and Diogo strides in. His face is set in fierce lines, his wide shoulders tense. He's wearing big leather boots, a thick, heavy-looking coat that covers his upper body, and jeans with a belt. A massive curved knife is strapped to his belt and a rifle is slung across his back. Blood is splattered over him, covering his torso and jeans.
His gaze sweeps over us. Me in the kitchen barely dressed, toes curled against the bare concrete floor, Garrett standing a few feet away. His head is now twisted to the side, looking at Diogo. I can't see his expression, but if I had to guess, the tension running through his body would indicate fear.
"My god, what happened to you?" I demand, nearly shouting. The sight of Diogo like that, covered in blood is like a punch to the gut. What if he's been hurt? I don't think he has. I don't see any injuries and the path of the blood spatter would indicate it came from someone else. But what if it comes from a rebel? Someone I know. Emery or Xavier, any of my friends.
He ignores the question, turning his deadly gaze on Garrett. "Get the fuck out."
Garrett hurries away without another word, clearly relieved that his boss isn't immediately swinging that big ass knife at him. Diogo turns toward me, making his way slowly over. He reaches for the rifle strap slung across his chest and pulls it over his head. He drops it on the table as he passes and continues toward the kitchen.
Waves of aggression hit me as he approaches and I back slowly away as he stalks toward me. His eyes are hot, angry and filled with lust as they rove over my body. I feel his intensity right down to my bones. My stomach swirls and my blood feels like it's flowing heavily through my veins as I respond to him on a visceral level. I clutch at the counter behind me, the half-finished can of peaches forgotten.
He walks right up to me and pinches my chin between his fingers, tipping my face up to his. "You will never again appear as you are dressed now. I am the only one that gets to see you like this. Understand?"
My heart thunders in my chest as I'm faced with Sanctuary's Warlord. The man that kills for the thrill. That rules the city without a conscience. I'm stunned by the vehemence of his words and though part of me wants to argue, wants to point out that I couldn't have known Garrett was out there when I left the bedroom, I realize that, in this moment, the best path to take is submission.
"I understand," I whisper.
His gaze takes on a satisfied glint, though they still glitter hard obsidian at me. "If you ever think to flirt with any of my men then I will kill them, Taran. No questions, no second chances. You belong to me. I won't share you. Understand?"
I nod helplessly in his grip.
"Say it," he demands.
"I understand, Diogo."
The words barely leave my mouth when his crashes down on mine in a brutal kiss. He buries his hands in my hair and when the sharp, metallic scent of blood hits my nostrils I realize that he's wearing blood-soaked gloves. Disgust wars with desire as he crushes me against his body, pressing my bare chest to his bloody coat.
I struggle to push him away, tearing my lips from his. "No, Diogo, don't!"
My denial seems to spur a fire in him. He grips my hair in a fierce hold and forces my head back up for his kiss, this one more punishing than the last. My lips press hard against my teeth. I have no choice but to open my mouth or be cut to ribbons. He thrusts his tongue deep, sweeping the recesses with a fervency that stuns me. His tongue is hot, persistent, filling my mouth completely and choking me.
Just as dizziness hits and I think I'm going to pass out from the roughness of his possession, he lifts his head. My reprieve isn't long though. He picks me up off my feet, turns on his heels and strides for the bedroom. I let out a shriek of protest. He doesn't hear me though. He's blinded by lust, passion and blood. He wants to fuck away the aggression of the kill and he's going to do it, right now.
He drops me on the bed. I land on my back winded. When he reaches for his knife, pulling it from the sheath, I panic. I must've read him all wrong. He's going to murder me right here in his bed!
I try to roll away, but he grabs me, flips me back over and clamps a hand over my neck, pinning me. I gasp against his tight hold and bring my hands up protectively when he angles the knife toward my body. He knocks my hands aside and proceeds to finish what he started, cutting the fabric all the way down my front. He resheaths the knife and looks down at me, his eyes glowing with possessive energy.
"Wife."