Day 19: Rude Encounter with the Devil

My father sold me. That's right-like a used doll, not even a doll. More like a dirty rag.What did I do to make you so anger? The one answer I will never know. We've only butted heads on topics such as marriage. Surely, he didn't sell me only to throw me away.

He sold me-his only daughter and heir...

~Samantha

Strong rum burns her nose while merry music played throughout the hall. People, both men and women alike, sat around wooden tables, talking and laughing loud enough to almost match the same pitch of the music playing, if not louder. Random shouts of: "Where's the food?!" calls out to her from her position near the kitchen entrance.

The orders were prepared quickly. Samantha blew the curly, brown lock of hair, which had fallen into her sweat-covered face, from in front of my face. The lock only fallen back into her face, not even a second later.

Arms holding four -- no eight plates of food perfectly, yet shaky, she made her way through the oceans of bodies, with great difficulty. You see, she had to pass by the dance floor in order to reach her destination.

The dancers pushed against her like she wasn't even there. You may even have asked how she was still balancing eight plates? And the answer would be: she had to or meet another unfortunate encounter with him.

Laughter erupted the second she approached the table. One by one, she place each plate down in front of a body. With her last load deposited on the table. A hand wrapped around my wrist, preventing me from going anywhere and drawing her eyes to the very person she loathed.

The very person she wanted to slap that charming smile from his face.

"Why the rush, Princess?" His rough, masculine voice made her shrink further within herself, dread already forming in the pit of her stomach.

Tristan Bellman, the devil who owned her, rose from his chair. His hand still clenching her hip. The only difference was that she couldn't help, but notice the slight pressure he enforced with his hold as  their eyes drew together like two magnets.

Snickers of amusement floated around the small table from the mouths of six - no seven other men.

Obviously, she was the butt of some joke.

She averted her glance to keep her disguised look from revealing her thoughts of this man to him. Heavens knows, she've made those feelings clear on several occasions. "I was told to serve others." Her voice sounded so soft and weak, even to her own ears.

He leaned closer to hee petite self. She could feel his heated breath brushing across her cheek. "Now I'm telling you to serve me." The seductive notch in his voice had her cringing in disgusted. The scent of rum floated her nostrils. She couldn't hold back her dislike for this man. She tried to pull away from him. Only, she felt his rough hands around her waist, pulling. Instantly, she was pulled against his chest. She pushed him away all to no avoid. Pulling  her into his arms, he made her sit on his lap.

The laughter of amusement grew.

Now in his lap, she could smell the musky, woody stench he had after spending days out in the trees, stalking or ambushing unfortunate travelers. He reached for his half empty mug. She watched in utter horror as he gulped down the last of rum from his mug.

His face inched closer to  hers. His eyes shining with broad excitement and an amused smirk on his face. She immediately cringed when she smelled the strong liquor on his breath once more. "I bet you never been with a man like me before." He said with a slight slurred of his words. His breath fans across my face, making her lean away due to the unwanted closeness.

"Nor would I want to." She retorted, disgusted by the sheer idea. She pushed against his chest once more.

He leaned forward once more, seizing her eyes under his own. She felt  her breath catch at the bottom of her throat.

He's to close!

Her thoughts screamed at her to get as far away from this man as soon as possible. Hee hands weakly pushed against his chest.

"You will serve me." His tone was authoritarian, yet husky despite the heavy drinking, he indulge in occasionally. For a second, hee heart stopped beating against her chest at his words.

He leaned forward. She panicked more to a point where frustrated tears forming at the brim of her eyelids. Out the edge of her left eyes, she spotted something silver. A fork rested peacefully in front of her. It's only presence brought hope to her slowly deteriorating state of peace.

She turned her head to escape his fast approaching lips, only to have her chin seized between his rough fingers. Her face was yank to face his. His own steady advancing. In a moment of helplessness, hee hand wrapped around my weapon -- the fork. Before she knew anything, her hand was already in motion, bring the fork down onto the nearest flesh in sight.

"Ouch!" Something like a cuss followed.

Yet, she couldn't obey this one man...Not even if her life depended on her obedience to him.

Instead, she was more aroused by the display of anger he showed. She wanted him to be mad at her. To be mad at her, so that she could feel the satisfaction of rebelling against his law.

Stumbling back, in her one attempt to flee, she dropped onto the soft dirt beneath my feet onto my bottom.

The music ceased. The talk and laughter stopped.

Looming over hee, a tingle line of blood dropping from his right hand, was Tristan. Ominous and dangerous, he smirked. His gaze was one that was one that took whatever will she had left to fight away.

"That wasn't very nice." He said with a dark amused, yet disappointed voice to my ears. She swallowed down a lump of nothing. Her breathing increased steadily with Tristan slow, meaningful approached.

A gasp escaped her throat as he pulled her up by her arm. Into his arms, she was placed. This time, he held her tightly to prevent any movement from her.

Before she could utter a word, she felt his lips on hers.

Rough and hot. The kiss that left her lips burning for more. She was in a daze the second he released her. Her lips tingling with the slowly fading traces of his kiss. Tristan smiled before  her. In her high, she couldn't help feeling the desire to kiss him again.

It was her very first kiss from a man. And he took it! He took that one pleasure from her...

Like a bubble, her lustrous daze popped with the few events that followed.

She was thrust away as if I was the world most ugly baby in the world. Once again, she ended up on the ground. Her hands spread out in front of her to lessen the impact of her fall.

"Never fight your owner, girl." He sneered, his tone carried a hint of amusement.

Low laughter of amusement filled the nighty sky, similar to hyenas cries in the night. She pulled herself to her feet slowly. The many eyes that watched her burned holes against her skin.

Hurt, embarrassed, and mad, she made herself look straight into Tristan's eyes. She could feel the heat and tears rising behind her own. Her fists curled into balls at her side without my permission. Tristan's tongue flickered out to moist his lips briefly. The act momentarily drawing her gaze to his lip, but not enough to erase the anger she felt.

"I own you. Remember your place." Mockery coated his words as he said them, directly meeting my eyes. His own daring me to say otherwise. He turned his body to face her fully. Everything about his stand at that moment screamed power.

A thick cloud of tense hanging between them. No one said a word. It seemed as if he was waiting for something: her.

Realizing this only made her shifted her gaze from his to the floor beneath her swollen feet. She've never been one to have to fight. No. A princess was suppose to do what she was told. Nothing more, nothing less. But the longer she remain in Tristan Bellman's burning gaze, the more her body heated up in a frustrated arousal.

She broke the silence, however. She had too. All the emotions she was feeling right now -- anger, frustration, sorrow, confusion, and above all lust -- had her mind bundle up in a confusing turmoil. "You own me the day you make me say I'm yours." She saw Tristan expression changed from controlled and calm to astonishment.

Turning, she ran away from the celebration, the crowd of gawking faces, leaving behind a shocked leader and a room of laughter.