CHAPTER 44: CHAPTER 44

The following content contains themes of violence and death that may be disturbing to some readers.

The girl pushed Rhea toward Zeenare.

Rhea fell into his arms, his hands around her waist, each sharing a gaze.

"Now then, I’d leave you two love birds alone while I go sell these fruits. Don’t be late, Urith." She winked, stepping out of the stall.

Rhea wanted to tell the girl not to leave, and if possible, tag along with her. But she didn’t know her; the only person she knew was holding her right now.

Rhea glimpsed at the door as her gaze returned back to Zeenare.

He was staring down at her with a longing look in his eyes.

Rhea’s heart skipped as she stepped away from him.

"He looks different," she swallowed. "And extremely hot, dressed like that," she swallowed again.

His silver hair fell down his face as the length cascaded down his back, his jawline extremely defined, with little to no mustache on his face, making him look more manly and dreamy.

His loose white shirt did nothing to hide his toned muscles, revealing even more as the straps at the neck were loose, dangling at each side.

The shirt was tucked within an almost black-brownish pair of pants, which exposed every muscle shape on his thighs and calves, which were enveloped by near knee-length brown buckle boots.

"What is wrong, milady? You don’t look well." He dropped the basket and touched her forehead, then pulled her to a chair. He sat on it, Rhea on his lap, and took her lips.

Whoa! Whoa! You don’t go kiss someone like that. She pondered.

Rhea pulled back. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean? You are all warm and red," he muttered. "Since we don’t know what the curse holds yet, this is the least I can do."

"I’m fine. It’s because I walked here," she stammered, trying to slip out of his hold.

"Because you walked here? What other ways were you supposed to get here?" He lifted her, placing her high on the counter, her feet dangling above the ground. He then rested his head on her lap, his silver hair tickling her thighs. "And why do you seem to be avoiding me?"

Rhea’s thoughts were a chaotic jumble. This version of Zeenare was clingy and affectionate like a child.

"I wasn’t avoiding you," she managed, trying to think of a believable lie. "I was simply trying to sit... comfortably."

Zeenare lifted his gaze to her. His silver eyes softened, not the sharp, consuming stare she was used to. This one... this one looked at her as though she were the sun, and he had been waiting lifetimes just to bask in her warmth.

"You always do this," he murmured. "Act as though I might vanish if you look at me too long. Do you not know you’re mine already?"

Rhea chest tighteed, her cheeks warming under the way he gazed up at her. It wasn’t possessive this time. It was... tender. Like a man hopelessly in love, the kind who feared losing her more than anything.

"I..." She faltered. Her mind screamed that this wasn’t him, couldn’t be him, yet her heart betrayed her, fluttering wildly, aching for his touch.

He reached for her hand, pressing his lips against her knuckles. "Don’t run from me, Urith. Not in this life. Not in any."

Her throat tightened. Why did this feel so different? Why did this feel... safe?

Before she could answer, he leaned his forehead against her stomach, arms wrapped possessively around her waist as if she were his anchor. His voice was a soft vow against her skin.

"If the world turned on you, I would stand alone against it. Always."

The words slammed into her chest. He was so close, so real, so heartbreakingly gentle that for a flicker of a moment, Rhea let herself believe it. She let herself feel what it would be like if Zeenare was just a man, hers, and nothing more.

Her hand slid into his hair before she could stop it. "Since Elora is not here, want to go for a ride with me?" he offered.

"Who is Elora?" Rhea asked.

Zeenare tilted his head back, "Your sister in this life!" His voice held suspicion.

I have a sister? Is he talking about the girl that brought me here?

"Urith! Run! Run!" It was the voice of Elora, screaming. Her voice echoed, sprinting for the stall down the alley they had walked through that morning.

Zeenare’s head snapped up, his expression darkening, the tenderness gone as the stall door burst open.

"Burn her, burn her."

"She is a witch."

"A witch in the town."

A roar erupted from the open field outside the stall, a wave of hatred and fear. The voices screamed.

"She is the witch!" A man with a vicious snarl on his face grabbed Rhea’s arm, yanking her from the counter.

"Hey, let me go!" Rhea tried yanking her hands free, but his hold was stronger.

Zeenare scrambled to his feet, but the crowd was a wall of angry faces. They threw themselves at him, pushing him back, their hands and fists a desperate mob.

Everything was in a flash, as if time was being forwarded.

Rhea was seized before she could breathe. She was dragged into the middle of the town square, her feet scuffing against the dirt as she was bound to a pole as flames licked closer.

What is going on? A witch out of nowhere? she thought, her heart pounding with fear in her chest.

The rope bit into her wrists. As they dragged her down the aisle she could see Zeenare through the chaos, fighting, his face contorted in a mask of sheer panic and sorrow. He screamed her name, his voice raw with a desperation that somehow broke her heart.

He was a powerhouse, throwing men aside, but for every person he pushed away, two more took their place.

Zeenare’s blood boiled, his heart roared. He wanted to save her, to kill everything in his path right now, but he was being held back.

"Master, you can’t do this. The alliance with the humans still holds. Killing them will breach our agreement," Othimise reminded him, his eyes down.

"Never you speak for them again!" he warned, death emitting from him.

Othimise lowered his head, trembling slightly.

Rhea’s voice ripped through as they lit the fire. Her face contoured in agony, the air laced with the smell of burning meat.

Through the haze of smoke and fear, her gaze found him again, fighting desperately, blood on his hands as he struck down anyone who came near.

Zeenare’s face, etched with a pain so profound it mirrored her own, was twisted with desperation, with a sorrow so deep it ripped through her.

"Rhea!" His voice broke, feral. He was a man watching his world burn.

Then, a sudden, terrifying shift. Zeenare stopped fighting the crowd. His eyes went cold, and a dark energy seemed to radiate from him. She watched, horrified, as he lashed out, a single, final blow that seemed to wipe out the entire crowd in a gruesome, silent explosion of death.

Then, she woke up, gasping for air, drenched in sweat.

Tears streamed down her face, her knuckles pale from clenching the duvet too tightly.

She slowly got up, her body shaking. Her heart hammered against her ribs, caught between terror and confusion.

"Why..." she whispered into the silence, voice trembling. "Why had it felt so real? Why does it feel like that was a piece of me?"

She pressed her forehead against her knees, curling up on the bed. A bitter thought slipped into her mind, uninvited but heavy.

"Rhea. Rhea." Zeenare’s voice softly wove through the closed door.

She flinched at the sound, her body tensing. The memory of his face, twisted in a mask of sheer panic and sorrow, was still fresh. His voice, raw with desperation, screaming her name before the terrible, silent slaughter.

"I know you are still angry with me, but I just wanted to check if you are fine. I know I should not have done that to the people you considered your family...." His voice slowly died down as the door creaked open with Rhea stepping forward.

He stopped, his eyes widening at the sight of her. The sight of her red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks was a punch to the gut. The air around him turned frigid, a cold fury radiating off him as his own gaze hardened.

"You should never tamper with a person’s mind at all, Zeenare." Her voice quavered, her eyes red, cheeks not fully dried.

He rushed forward immediately, a low growl in his throat. "Tell me who did this, Pumpkin. I’ll tear them apart for making you cry." His hands hovered near her, a strange mix of wanting to hold her, and a fear of causing her more pain stood in his way.