Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
"I understand," I say quietly, hating myself even more. I have become the male she hates. I am more like the one she poisoned than I'd hoped, and the thought is devastating.
"You can sleep somewhere else tonight," she says, and turns her back to me.
Chapter
Twenty-One
MELINA
Without Azar in my bed, I don't sleep well.
Not because of nightmares, but because of guilt. Sheer, unbridled guilt. I know Azar is struggling. I know he didn't come from a place where they think like we do. And I could tell from the look on his face that it never occurred to him to strike me like he did that girl. That makes me feel better…but only marginally.
He's fraying. A good wife would have supported him and guided him gently, maybe. Pointed out where he went wrong. Instead, I pitched a fit and kicked him out of our bed. It's just…he can't brutalize people just because he's in charge. We're living here because it beats living out in the wilds. But if he pulls shit like this again, he's going to lose people, and I won't blame them one bit for going. The fort is protected from dragon attacks, but who is going to protect them from Azar?
So I'm torn. I'm torn because I should hate Azar for what he did and I don't.
I'm worried I've fallen in love with the villain.
I'm worried I'm going to turn into one of those women that just ignores when a guy acts like a piece of shit instead of pointing out the error of his ways. I worry that my affection for Azar and how he treats me is going to blind me to his flaws.
So I don't sleep. At all. I stare at the ceiling of my lonely, lonely bed, and hate that no one's here to cuddle with or to lick my pussy until I scream. I am a sad sack of a woman that those things even cross my mind. To his credit, Azar doesn't try to come back to bed. It's like he knows I can't look at him right now because I'll just spit angry words in his direction.
A tiny, ugly part of me is sad he doesn't even try to come and apologize, but I ignore it.
The next morning, I push aside my beautiful, flowing gowns and pull something more practical out of my closet. I gaze thoughtfully at the worn jeans and the logo-covered T-shirt. The fact that I have them at all attests to how much pull Azar has. They're not my style. I love the elegant dresses and the jewelry he showers me with. But a protest is a protest, and if I have to use everything in my power to let Azar know I'm not okay with his actions, then I will. So I dress in the plain clothing, clip up my hair, and head out to the clinic. I avoid breakfast, because I don't want to see Azar there, gazing at me with sad eyes full of remorse. Or worse, no remorse at all. I'll deal with that situation soon, but not this morning. I can skip a meal.
I head into the clinic and throw myself into the chaos. There's no time to take a break as I wash sick bodies, take temperatures, change sheets, and dole out precious medication to those that are the worst off. I grab a couple of the guards from the front door and make them switch their guns for wet wash-towels and get them to work on cooling down the fevered. It's never enough, but that doesn't mean I'll give up. As I nurse them, I'm struck with sadness. Azar could prevent this. He could feed them, but he won't, and so they eat things that they know might kill them, all because it's better than an empty belly.
Maybe I've been all wrong about him all this time. Maybe I keep seeing good in him when there's none to be found. I imagine him to be a better man simply because I can't fathom having feelings for someone terrible.
I drown in my thoughts all day long as I tend to the sick. It seems like for every bed we clear, another person is brought in. I work faster, because I need to make sure that all the sick are taken care of, and race from one cot to another, handing out nausea medication and swapping used bowls for fresh ones. At one point, someone taps me on the shoulder.
"What?" I bite out, not pausing as I wipe clean the face of a woman who just vomited blood.
"Are you staying all night?"
I pause, because the voice that spoke up isn't a guard, but Alma. She's back already? I look up at her, and to my surprise, the sun has set. Darkness has fallen on the fort and I hadn't even noticed. The entire day has passed and I haven't even paused to eat or drink anything. "Oh. I…don't know."