"Do not speak unless spoken to, wench." Gaara interrupted not caring to actually listen to what she was saying.
A bit disgruntled, Jez clenched her jaw fighting back the words she so desperately wanted to spit at him. She had morals though.. And she wanted to keep every part of her body un-bruised as long as possible.
Once in his room, which was quite obvious that it was his, he let go of her arm practically throwing her to the floor. Staring up at him, her hand clenched so tightly her knuckles were white, she expected him to say something, point out where she was supposed to go, or what she was supposed to do. Instead he just stood there staring down at her for a fraction of a second before he turned towards a closed door to the right of his huge bed.
Using a key from inside one of his pockets he unlocked the door and swung it open. The hinges sounded so old it squeaked loudly, until the door stopped opening. Lightning a candle, with still no word to Jez, Gaara stepped into the room and lit the solitary lantern on a small block of wood, which she later figured was a chair. The room was small, no windows and only one door. A small bed made of, ironically, straw and pieces of hay with an ugly quilted blanket thrown over it. There was a lumpy pillow at the end with a real blanket folded beside it.
Turning to Jez, Gaara finally spoke, "You now sleep there; if you leave without my permission there will be consequences'. Disobey me again and there will be consequences'. This is your only warning."
Jez stared at Gaara then to the room with a look on her face that clearly said he was crazy; not moving from where she landed on the floor she blinked slowly not speaking.
This silence seemed to anger the Prince for he grabbed a large clump of her hair yanking him closer to her. A yelp of pain escaped her lips as both of her hands flew to his one in her hair. Gripping his hand tightly she tried to pull his hand from her locks of onyx hair, only to make it even more painful for herself.
"L.. let go!" she whimpered softly, pain shooting down her spine.
"You are not in a position to tell me what to do." He replied clenching his hand further pulling back slightly on the thin fragile strands.
Jez cried out her fingernails digging into his skin; her eyes clamped shut, and she was up on her knees head slightly inclined backwards to relieve herself of the pain. It worked for a millisecond. Breathing through her clenched teeth she ignored the tears sliding down her face, clenching her left hand tighter so the metal around the jade stone in her hand pressed against his.
With narrowed eyes Gaara released her hair and she fell forward; her usually sleek hair pulled back into a ponytail, was now mussed and falling over her face like a curtain. Tears dripping from her cheeks fell onto her hands as she stared down at the stone in her palm.
"It couldn't have been you." She murmured softly.
"What?" Jade eyes stared down, no emotion reflected in the hateful hues.
"You were not the one who gave me this!" Jez nearly screamed waving the jade stone at him. "The one who gave me this was kind. You're an abusive monster!"
It seemed as if the last word she spat at him had an effect on him, when no other word could. Enraged that she called him a monster he backhanded her for the third time sending her crashing against his wooden floor. The necklace slipped from her fingers and rolled under his massive bed, but Jez did not move to get it back.
Her frail body lay motionless on the floor, the only indication of life was her chest moving ever so slightly with every breath she took. Resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to strangle the unconscious woman where she lay Gaara lifted her up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Even though he hated her, despised her, loathed her very existence, he couldn't help but notice how light her body was. How frail she really was in comparison to his strong sister, and to every other woman he'd encountered.
Grunting in dissatisfaction her dropped her on the bed made of straw and left her there not bothering to cover her up. Turning, he left the tiny room and closed the door locking it, leaving the key in it to remind himself that someone was actually in there.
——
"I hate him." Jez murmured softly to herself as she sat in the dank, tiny little room he'd locked her in. Yes, after she woke up some hours ago she'd tried to the door only to discover it was locked. The lantern had not much fuel to begin with so now it was flickering in and out, in and out. Over and over giving her brief periods of complete darkness.
It was not that she was afraid of the dark, it was the things in the dark that she could not see that she feared.
When she was a child, her first year in the care of her adopted father her elder brothers, Jerek and Archer, decided to have a little fun. Locking the poor five year old child in a closet, the boys ran off leaving her there, though they intended to go back and let her out. They had gotten distracted and forgot about her.
While there, locked in an old broom closet with no light to sooth her, Jez swore she had seen something, a spirit or something close to it.
Later that night they'd found her again, hearing her crying and screaming, banging on the door of the closet. Her hands had many splinters in them, and they were bloody, but after that Jez could not deal with the dark, or being alone in the dark.
Sitting there, now, on her little bed made of straw, she took a deep breath, and let it out slowly trying to fight the knot of anxiety building in her chest. Wrapping her arms around her legs she buried her face against her knees forcing herself to breathe, and think of other things than the darkness pressing in around her, suffocating her.
Oddly enough the only thing she could think about was Gaara. The way he looked, the way he smelt (which was an odd smell, metallic and musky with some other weird scent), the way his voice was smooth yet rough and demanding. He was definitely very masculine; she could feel his muscles through his thin white top, his broad shoulders and strong arms. Sexy.
Whoa. Hold up. She did not just think he was sexy...did she? Running over everything about him once again she realized that she not only thought he was sexy, but alluring. Extremely alluring more so to the point where it was an impossibility to be that wanted, and that sexy. There was either something very wrong with her, or very wrong with him.
She chose to think something was wrong with him.
"Aaah!"
The sudden sound jerked Jez from her thoughts and she sat up straight looking towards where she thought the wooden door was.
"Gaara-sama!" The voice was clearly female, and it had an edge to it. Something Jez couldn't place. "Nngh.. No! Aahnn.. Not there!!"
A blush spread over her cheeks when she realized what was going on in the room connected to hers and she placed her hands over her ears. She didn't want to hear that!
——
Hours passed before the sounds went away. The moaning and the grunts. It was disgusting, yet it made Jez feel lonely. She was seventeen years old, she should be married with at least two children of her own by now. God knows she wasn't going to live past 30. No one did.
Just as the depression was beginning to tear her apart from the inside out...the lock clicked. Turning her gaze upwards towards it she saw a tall masculine silhouette shroud the doorway.
"Get up." The gruff voice belonged to the man she grew to loathe from the deepest darkest depths of her soul.
Slowly, Jez unfolded herself stretching her legs out as she stood keeping her eyes downcast, not looking at him afraid of what she might see.
"Come." His tone of voice was one she recognized, it was the tone that commanded she obey, yet dared her to disobey. Three hits was enough for one day, so she, reluctantly, obeyed walking forward, shuffling her feet. "Now." Grabbing her roughly he pulled her to him, and not being on her feet in hours made her stumble.
Right into his bare chest.
Her cheeks flushed darkly and she flinched waiting for the hit to come, but it never came. Cracking open her eyes looking up at him she noticed the dark smirk cross his lips...he knew she was afraid of him, and that just made her blood being to boil.
Opening her mouth to snap at him, he rudely cut her off before she began. "It is time for you to wash my back."
Huh?
Jez just stared at him, numbly following him down the hallways to a room with a large tub in it already filled with almost scalding water. Dropping the towel Jez hadn't noticed him wearing he stepped into the water and she knelt down beside the tub a bar of soap and a sponge in her hand.
Naked men didn't bother her. Not in the least bit. When she was younger and the only female in the house it was her duty to wash her brothers backs, her father had always refused with a smile.
Now, she didn't even see anything but his bare back so it was no trouble for her. Wetting the soap and the sponge she leaned up on her knees and began to scrub his back, at first gently settling into a sort of calm daze.
That didn't last long.
Moments after she began rinsing the suds from his back he turned slightly and threw water at her. "Do it again. Your filthy hands have gotten me dirty again." His voice was cold, but not angry. He was taunting her!
Enraged Jez gritted her teeth and wet the sponge and soap again. "As you command, My Lord." She hissed.
This time she was not so gentle. She was rough, pressing hard against his skin, rubbing it raw. It was the not the best choice for her to make; she soon found herself in the tub with him her head held under the hot water. Moments later she came up sputtering and coughing pushing the hair from her eyes and wiping at her face.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" She growled angrily glaring at him, hardly noticing the position she was in.
"You'd make a terrible wife." He remarked ignoring her question.
Blinded now by a burning rage she slapped him, hard, across the face. While he sat there in the tub a look of barely noticeable shock on his face she stood and hopped out of the tub, her entire body sopping wet.
"I hope you choke and die you heartless bastard." Jez snarled glaring at him hatefully. She didn't show it but it hurt to hear him, a male, say that to her. Turning from him she stomped away, her face flushed with anger, her tears brimming with moisture.
Needless to say she didn't get very far. Gaara caught up to her rather quickly, a towel wrapped around his waist, a red mark outlined on his pale cheek in the shape of a small hand.
"You dare strike me, wretch?" He snarled his anger clear in his eyes, in his expression and tone of voice, even in the way he held himself exposed the level of his fury.
"Yes. I dare." She spoke with her head held high.
Roughly grabbing her chin Gaara turned her face to him so she was looking directly at him. "Lay on finger on me again, bitch, and you will never see the light of day again."