Salem stood by the doorway, unsettlingly calm gaze on her.
Inayah stood, half terrified and burning Bright red with shame at the notion of being caught not only eating forbidden food, but stuffing her face in the process, without so much of a care.
She must’ve looked grotesque with grease and spices smeared across her mouth, cheeks bulging from being overstuffed and her hand… Inayah released the leg she had torn away and straightened, forcing herself to swallow whilst keeping a straight face.
Her heart breathed into a paper bag of worry, shock roofing her to the ground. Words deserted her in that moment as she lay vulnerable before her master.
Salem Watched her a moment longer, then straightened, “Come to my chambers after you are done.” Is all he says before pivoting and leaving her.
Dread. That was all she felt and the food that once settled nourishingly sweet in the pit of her belly turned sour and churned about. She grew nauseous from the anxiety whilst she emptied the food into a bin, regretting her actions.
“He’s going to beat you bloody,” Inayah whispered terrified, trying and failing at still her trembling hands. “He’s going to strip you down, whip you and place you out in the cold.”
Or worse, that taunting voice whispered, cut your hands off for picking what is not yours.
Inayah would have wept herself silly had it not been for the anxiety that prevented tears. She tried dragging out time by washing and rewashing dishes, then clearing out the fire hearth and even leaving to collect wood for the next morning.
Beyond the mansion walls, lay frigid coldness that slashed goosebumps across her forearms and chest, beating her cheeks and nose feverish red.
Eventually everything had been done and she stood in the hallway, holding a saucer with a small candle balanced atop.
Kade had retired to one of the guestrooms.
Inayah inhaled long measured breaths as she carefully walked up to the door. She hovers before it uncertainly, then after a long hesitant moment, reaches out for the cool polished knob. Carefully twisting it, Inayah nudges the door open, feet frozen on the ground.
Sin’s presence is not within her line of vision, however, as she pushes it further, she sees him sitting by the fireplace.
The chair is angled in such a position that she cannot view his face, only the broad edge of one shoulder and his crossed leg. On his lap is a book. The fire’s glow casts a warm shade against the curve of his jaw, hinting something exquisite to his finely hair that is held in a loose ponytail with a silk tie.
“Close the door,” his voice is pulled and holds no malice, but neither is there kindness.
Obediently, Inayah shuts the door. Her whole unknowingly trembles at the thought of him punishing her again. And maybe she deserved it for eating when not instructed— yet if he was merciful, if even in the slightest… “I—” Inayah fumbles with the hem of her nightgown, “may I have permission to speak, master?”
One slender strong finger turned a page; “On the bed, Inayah.”
He had not regarded her once yet the words held such frighteningly regal power and she inhaled a long shuddering breath.
This was it.
Inayah begins for the bed but halts halfway, turning to his back, “I haven’t had a proper meal all day,” she disrupts quietly yet somehow manages to steady the tremors in her voice, “and I spent it cleaning the entire household… I’m sorry for eating the food, master.”
Sin’s silence is unnerving, deep and speaks thousands. He had listened, but the command remains the same.
Her chest inflated with despair as she set the candle down on the bedside table then slowly crawled onto the large queen sized bed, the mattress hardly dips beneath her small weight and as she lies on the cool satin duvet, Inayah feels as though she is floating on a vast endless ocean.
She lies on her back, and awaits the punishment. For the familiar sound of a crop or whip. Words that force her dress up as he labels her skin with lashes of disobedience. A reminder of where she stood and the little power she held.
Inayah flexed her jaw. She would not cry for hunger is inevitable and if he would beat her bloody for eating scraps then so be it.
Her worries, however, slowly began to diminish as time ticked by and still Salemdid not rise. Despair turned to impatience for she was growing tired and the temptation to curl up and sleep was growing at a worrying rate.
Hurry up she willed at him, get it over so I may sleep. Lord knows what Mathilde would do to her if she slept in again.
At some point, lost in her gaze of thoughts, Inayah grew conscious of the warmth that drifted from the fireplace. It spread across her cold toes, absorbing through skin relaxing each muscle and her eyelids began to droop as well.
Inayah slept.
For how long she did not know. Oblivious to the soft sound of a book shutting, the rise of Salemas he began to quietly move about the room, hardly casting her a glance as he stripped down to his boxers and washed his face from a golden basin. He tossed the water into the fire, dampening it.
Darkness fell swiftly.
It was the sudden shifting of the duvet and dip of a mattress that woke the drowsy girl and she mumbled briefly, disoriented, before realizing what she had done. She began to sit up sharply, blindly searching for his figure, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—”
“Quiet.” Salem demanded gently and her jaw clamped shut, growing rigor mortis still as she felt his body shift somewhere to her left.
Inayah peered timidly at his large form now beneath the covers, his front to her. It was far too dark to tell if he was awake or not, and so she waited unknowing of what to do.
Was he not going to punish her?
Inayah listened to her own deep breaths.
Did he… did he want her to sleep with him?
Not sex. No. He would have requested it if that were the case.
Thirty minutes ticked until finally her muscles began to ache from the tension. Making up her mind, Inayah carefully searched for the duvet top and tentatively lifted it before sliding it.
The space between them was vast, and yet she could not help but feel his silhouette press into her. Feel the faint warm sighs of exhales fan her mouth.
He must be asleep.
Despite the layers, she was freezing in the slightest. Robbed of sudden warmth by the lack of a fire and the sheets were far too large to generate heat at once. Inayah pulled her feet up to her chest, brushing her toes against his hot torso in the process.
She stilled. He was hot, temperature wise.
A sudden, daring thought fleeted across her mind. If she could just… sneakily, she stretched a foot out, slowly… deliberately, searching for a body part. Perhaps he would be willing to share some heat.
She brushed something hard and curved. Knee. Good enough, Inayah thought whilst pressing the sole of her ice cold foot down on his muscular thigh.
Suddenly, his hand clamped down on her ankle and with a vicious tug, dragged her across the space and towards him. Inayah made a choking sound of shock, ready to fight him off but his actions were swiftly, fluid.
Salem made an irritated, impatient noise.
One hand grabbed her shoulder and easily rolled her onto her side such that her back faced his front, his long large foot locking over her hip, dragging her closer, suffocatingly so, into his chest.
Inayah remained stiff, far too terrified to move as he arranged himself to a point where he almost lay completely above her. His cheek pressed over her ear, the erotic feel of his stubble grazing her skin.
She was completely tucked into him. Any more and her body would dissolve into his. Despite the uncomfortable position, the flood of heat from his inferno body was welcomed.
It took a long time for Inayah to fall asleep.
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