Chapter 5
I woke up to an aching body, sore in places I didn't know could hurt, like I'd been trampled by a raging truck. The air was thick with the scent of enigma pheromones, almost suffocating. And then the flashbacks came—last night, the darkness, the weight of him, my helplessness.
My heart slammed in my chest.
The bed beside me was empty. Good. I wasn't ready to see his face. I reached for my clothes with trembling hands, trying to move quietly, like prey tiptoeing past a sleeping predator. But the moment I tried to stand—
I collapsed.
My legs gave out completely. A sharp, unbearable ache throbbed between my thighs, my back was stiff, and my arms felt bruised. I looked down at myself in disbelief. The legs that were once smooth, fair, and long were now covered in red, swollen bite marks and dark hickeys.
"Who said enigmas were saints?" I whispered bitterly. "That man's a beast… a reincarnated devil."
"Where do you think the married lady is off to?"
His voice struck me like lightning.
That deep, hoarse tone—the same one from last night—spilled from the doorway. I froze, too ashamed, too scared to face him. I couldn't even lift my eyes. He walked toward me, his footsteps unhurried, confident.
Before I could scramble away, he bent down and picked me up like I weighed nothing then laid me in the bed.
His arms were warm and strong, but all I could hear was that one word he said.
Married?
"Hazel Vernon," he said in that commanding voice. "Your new name is Hazel Earnhardt."
I blinked up at him, stunned, only to be greeted by the face of a man who looked like a demigod. He was stunning. The kind of beauty that didn't feel real—his hair tousled perfectly, his cold eyes burning with possessiveness, his upper body bare, revealing a sculpted chest, chiseled abs, and toned arms that made him look like sin incarnate.
I turned my gaze away quickly, heart pounding.
"What… what do you mean?" I asked, breathless.
He nodded toward a small table nearby.
I followed his gaze—and nearly passed out.
A marriage certificate.
Val Earnhardt and Hazel Vernon. My name. His. Together. And at the bottom, my signature and a thumbprint I didn't remember giving.
"What… when did I… sign this?"
My mind went blank. I wanted to scream, cry, deny it—but I couldn't. And the way he was looking at me…
His gaze was filled with lust and obsession, like I was something he'd hunted and finally claimed. My skin crawled, but strangely… I didn't hate it. And that terrified me more than anything.
"Wifey," he said, voice dropping a dangerous octave, "if you stay naked in front of me, I won't mind going for another round. I'm still in rut, after all."
He smirked.
Not playfully—but like he meant every damn word.
I looked down—and felt my soul leave my body.
I was nearly naked. Covered in angry red marks, bruises, hickeys… my chest, especially, was swollen and sore. I scrambled to cover myself with the nearest sheet, cheeks burning in shame.
"This man is insane," I muttered under my breath.
Trying to ignore the heat in the room, I mumbled, "I'll bathe first," and attempted to get out of bed.
Big mistake.
My legs buckled again. I crashed into the sheets like a doll with broken joints. I couldn't even move without wincing. So this is what it felt like…? Back in my past life, I used to dream about how I'd make love to my future wife, how I'm gonna toss her around. I never once imagined how she'd feel after.
Karma really is real.
Before I could even finish that thought, Val swept me up into his arms again, bridal style. His touch made my body tense up instantly, but I dared not look at his face—it was too perfect, too dangerous.
And I could feel it.
He was turned on again. The air around him buzzed with restraint, but he was holding back.
Please keep holding back for the rest of your life, I prayed in my mind.
I was relieved when he didn't say anything. Instead, he walked us to the massive bathroom and began filling the tub with warm water.
The moment I saw the bathtub, I shivered—not from cold, but from memory.
We'd been here last night too.
He'd intended to clean me… but ended up losing control again. It happened right here. In this tub. Just remembering it made my heart drop. I didn't even want to be near the water anymore.
When it was full, he gently lowered me inside.
I hoped—prayed—he'd leave. But he didn't.
He undressed slowly and stepped into the tub.
I wanted to scream, "GET OUT!", but I couldn't. My body was too weak, my heart too afraid. I just sat still, tense, avoiding his eyes, trying not to see how bare he was… how perfectly built he was.
He swam closer, picked up the soap, and began to wash me.
Quietly.
No teasing. No aggression.
Just… care.
Even though the water was warm, I couldn't stop shivering. He didn't speak. Just gently scrubbed my arms, my back, even my legs. And when he was done, he climbed out first and wrapped a towel around his waist.
Then he wrapped me too.
His touch was almost tender now, and it confused me.
You don't get to defile someone and then act like a loving husband the next morning.
But when I returned to the bedroom, I found a beautiful, soft gown laid out for me. New. Untouched. I realized he must've ordered it just for me. My gown from yesterday had been torn apart… by him.
I glanced at him, then frowned.
This man… made no sense.
Soon, I was sitting at a table filled with dishes. It was quiet. Too quiet. I looked around. No maids, no chefs.
Did he… cook all this?
I was still gathering the courage to ask when I took a bite—and my eyes widened.
It was delicious.
Like… insanely delicious. My foodie heart fluttered a little. I ate quietly, not daring to speak. I was still trying to come up with an excuse to escape—but I had nothing.
Halfway through the meal, I looked up—and froze.
Another man stood beside Val.
I didn't know him.
He was well-dressed, tall, unfamiliar, and his gaze was fixed on me. Intense. Unblinking.
I instinctively clutched my robe tighter.
Val hadn't touched a single bite of his food. Meanwhile, my plate was almost empty. I felt embarrassed.
Did I look like a glutton?
The stranger kept staring.
I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable.
"Am I being sold off?"
The question lingered in my head.