Wrath

She avoids me like the plague. I don't know what enticed me to push her like that. I guess I just snapped. Between my worry and the constant exhaustion from restless sleeps, I'm hanging on by a thread.

Yesterday, when she tried to go home, I had to tell her the truth. She broke an antique lamp aiming for my head and taught me a few choice curse words. She hasn't left her room since and barely eats anything Bertie sends up. I'm ready to teach her, have told her so, but she ignores me. I'm giving her until tomorrow morning to accept her reality. If she's not ready by then, I'm taking away her choice. Our relationship will be strained, but she will be alive. That's all that matters.

I sit by the fire, tipping back the bottle of scotch Austin gave me on my last visit. The stout is rich and earthy. After three quarters of a bottle, I realize I'm at odds with myself and the situation. Doesn't even matter which bothers me more. They might as well be the same thing. It's late in the evening, the sun has already set and my mind is spinning. I don't think I'll even try sleeping tonight. She's stirred my desire in ways she can't imagine. Her fury is like a stroke to my cock. I crave her anger, see it as strength. That's the kicker. I am nothing to her. I'm beginning to think she'll never see me the way I see her. I've never had to work for a female's affection. women just fell into my lap. I've had many, but have never had a relationship, not a desire for one. Ah, but Rosa has piqued my interests in both ways; physically and mentally. It's been years since I've felt desire for another and I've never wanted more until now.

Leaning back and staring into the fire soothes me. I can feel the heat against my bare chest and close my eyes. The crackling noise has a calming effect. Paired with the warmth from drink settling in my body. I'm in a state of deep relaxation. It may be fleeting, but the reprieve is like balm to my mind, soul and body. As if my subconscious fights the moment of peace, dark thoughts seep into my head, yelling at me. Take her! My eyes pop open and I grip the bottle tighter. Take what I want? The temptation is hard to fight when I'm dying to taste her. Knowing I could easily take her, makes the thought all the more taboo.

Before I realize it, I'm in the hallway to her room, pacing in front of the entrance. My thoughts are foggy, but my desires are clear. So clear it's hard to decipher what's right and wrong. Walking forward, I reach for the handle and pause when I kick something warm and giving.

"What are you doing? It's the middle of the night and she's sleeping."

I jump back guiltily. A warrior pixie flutters back-and-forth inches from my face. I regain my composure, remembering my demand she be left alone.

"What are you doing sleeping at her door?"

The pixie crosses her tiny bare arms, defying me. What is with the females surrounding me?

"She was lonely and we're friends."

My jealousy makes me harsher than I mean to be, as I snap in my fit of rage.

"One more chance! If you go against my orders again, you will be exiled. Leave!"

She opens her mouth, I'm sure to protest. I stop her in her tracks, slamming my fist through the wall and yelling,

"NOW!"

Rosa throws open the door. With all the commotion, I've woken her, and she doesn't look pleased. Her hair is tangled, her thin shirt exposes small tight buds attached to perfectly round and gentle swells. I swallow hard and my eyes hood as I continue my obvious appraisal. Her bare midriff quivers and she closes her thick, supple thighs. I look up in time to see her fist headed straight for my nose. Too late.

"Gods damn it, woman! What was that for!"

She doesn't answer, but raises her other fist. I catch it in my hand, pushing her back into the room, my patients wearing exceedingly thin.

"Don't push me any further than you already have!"

It's a warning. She heeds, closing her mouth with a snap and backing up a few paces. I'm thankful for her sake and for mine. It doesn't last long before she starts again.

"Me? I've pushed you? You just chased away my only friend!"

Fuck, she's heartless. I want to scream; what about me! Instead, I push her back on the bed with a flick of my wrist, following her down. I'm careful to give her just enough space to breathe but push every point of contact just off the verge of painful.

"I have given you my home, my knowledge and pledge to protect you with my life. I am king. I bestow a great honor in doing this, yet you insult me at every turn. Yes, you've pushed me."

She winces at my tone, wiggling to get free. She gets nowhere but manages to stir my sex. I harden, my length digging into her thigh. Her eyes widen and she begins to struggle, doubling her effort.

"Get off me, you sick freak!"

"No!" I deny her, pushing my erection hard enough to leave a bruise. The extreme behavior is unlike me and I know it's wrong, but she twists me up inside. I have never felt so angry, hurt or sexually frustrated like I do now. No one has held this kind of power over me.

"You're a rapist, dumb pig, and I'd never fuck you, let alone accept your anything. Just leave me alone and get out of my life."

Rapist? Dumb pig? I push off her, growling out a yell of frustration. anger claws at me. I clear the desk off with a swipe of my arm. When that's not enough, I pick it up and slam it to the ground. The wood structure breaks and pieces scatter in the air and across the floor. I destroy anything that I provided in a fit of rage. When I turn to her, she's holding herself protectively, eyeing me like I'm the monster she's accused me of being. Can't say I blame her. I'm owning up to the image perfectly at the moment. I'm out of breath as well as control. I reluctantly leave before I make matters worse.

Admittedly, I spend my night and the next feeling sorry for myself. In my mind, I go over her words again and again. I regret what I did and don't know how to salvage the mess I made. There's something about her that turns me into an unrecognizable version of myself that even I know is disturbing.

Bertie comes in with matches and a pair of bellows. She pauses Halfway into the room, her mouth a gap at my appearance.

"Have you slept at all, sir?"

I try to pry my eyes open wider to properly see her, but I'm too intoxicated to control the muscles.

"No, I have not. The only thing I've managed so far is to destroy any chance I had at making her my queen."

My words come out slurred and jumbled. I went up to see her just a few hours ago. Her room was bare because of me. She wouldn't even look at me, just called me a useless drunk and threw the book she was reading at me. Her eyes were red and puffy, like she had been crying. When she screeched for me to get out, I quietly left. I hear Bertie make her disapproving tsk I've grown used to hearing over the years.

"I take it this has to do with Rosa and the disarray of her room?"

I raise a brow, taking a swig of ale.

"Aye."

She takes the Cup from me. Emptying the contents into the fire. I listen to it sizzle, entertained by the sound.

"You have made a muck of things, that's for sure, but I wouldn't say it is unfixable."

I laugh at the possibility

"She hates me, and if she was warming up to me before, I've killed any chance of that now."

I throw my head back and close my eyes.

"Oh, poppycock! Time heals all wounds, even big ones from arses like you. Have you heard of the power of apology? Especially one given with feeling and genuine regret."

A snort is my only response to her brute honesty. Could it be that simple? With brief space and an apology, all is forgiven? I highly doubt it, but I'd try anything at this point. I'd be happy enough to get back to our exchange of insult. Anything over silence.

"Why do not you pick her a bouquet of wild flowers and write a letter of apology. That way she will hear you out."

Flowers and letters? It's not a terrible idea.

"Thank you Bertie, what would I do without your gentle wisdom?"

She laughs, giving me a warm smile.

"It's no bother love."

I take a cold shower and sip my coffee in the garden. I've been at it a good hour picking the perfect combination of flowers. By the time I'm done, I've already started to sober. Preparing the letter is a whole different creature. I give up before ever jotting down a word and take my chances with the flowers.

The knock on her door goes unanswered. Minutes pass and I try again. When I don't get a response, I open it a crack, peeking inside.

"Rosa?"

The room is empty. I go back downstairs and check the dining hall. She's not in there either. When I finally Hunt down Bertie, she tells me she hasn't seen her leave her room. After searching the grounds, I circle back around and don't see a sign of her. A deep panic begins to creep in. I check her room once more and that's when I see it. I must have missed it before. A small note on her pillow that reads FUCK YOU in bold capital letters signed Dayzues...