Thank you guys for taking the time to review! I'm really excited for you to read this next chapter. Just so you know, you'll see a phonetic translation that applies to Felicity. I used several Arabic translation sites to try and make it as accurate as possible, since this isn't a language I'm familiar with. Hopefully, it's right. You never know sometimes with those things. You'll learn what it means soon, but bonus points if you guys can figure it out before then. Happy reading!

Chapter 2: The Union

The trek to the sanctuary on the other side of the compound (or was it a castle since it was made of stone?) seemed far too short. It didn't help that her wedding attire also felt so heavy. Felicity had almost tripped a few times already in an effort to keep herself balanced. Nyssa led the way with Sara bringing up the rear. Two more guards walked along the side of Felicity, successfully boxing her in. Talia, thankfully, was nowhere in sight.

Felicity didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed that they were taking such security precautions. It's not like she would last two seconds against one of these warriors. Or perhaps it was to prevent anyone else from hurting her. Maybe Talia wasn't the only one who objected to this union and wanted Felicity dead. Her fear spiked again. How was she supposed to survive here on her own? Would there be men following her everywhere she went? If not them, would Al Sah-him keep her under lock and key?

Her chest tightened when they reached the sanctuary doors. The faint sound of music could be heard on the other side, along with low chatter. Felicity kept her hands folded in front of her, careful not to tilt her sleeve too downward. The cold metal against her wrist was a stark contrast to the rest of her overheated body.

Nyssa turned to address her. "I will let them know you are ready but first, is there anything else you require?"

"I'm assuming a map out of this place and a plane ticket would be too much to ask," the blonde drawled.

The brunette's expression remained passive as she looked to Sara. With a nod, she then turned to enter the sanctuary. The doors quickly shut behind her.

"The ceremony will be conducted in both English and Arabic by the priestess," Sara informed her while straightening out Felicity's train and veil. "When she addresses you as Abad-eshams, you will respond accordingly."

Felicity stared back at her in confusion. "What does that even mean?"

"We all get a new name when we join the League. This is yours."

"And who decided that?"

"Al Sah-him."

"Of course he did," Felicity muttered. His control over her life was already starting. "Do I even want to know what it means?" It was probably some loose translation of Ball and Chain, she thought.

"You should ask him," Sara said before the doors started to open. "That's your cue." She gave her a push forward. "If it's any consolation, you look beautiful."

Felicity didn't respond. She merely swallowed the lump in her throat and stared straight ahead. The sanctuary had more torches to light the room. It was almost as plain as the throne room except for the columns covered in red, embroidered cloth. It was filled with dozens of masked warriors. They were lined on either side of the red carpet going down the center of the room. The instrumental music began; it sounded soft and ethereal. The warriors drew their swords and raised them high, creating an arch for her to walk under.

For a moment, Felicity hesitated in disbelief. This couldn't be happening right now. This couldn't be her life. Any minute she'd wake up. Sara's discrete jab at her spine proved otherwise, and so her living nightmare began. Felicity, lifting her head high, started to walk down the aisle.

About halfway down, she finally caught sight of her husband to be. He was no longer wearing his armor. Instead, he had on a formal, button-up black patterned tunic. A black and gold velvet sash was thrown over his right shoulder with a gold pin at the top. Felicity was loathed to admit that he looked tall, regal, and handsome—practically a Disney prince. The only problem was that this fairytale wouldn't have a happily ever after. There were too many villains to count. Ra's al Ghul stood off to the side of Al Sah-him with his hands behind his back—like he didn't have a care in the world. Her own father was standing to the right. Felicity glowered at him, but it had little effect. He was getting what he wanted, after all.

Finally, she reached Al Sah-him. His features looked even more defined up close, and she could tell that he'd shaved off most of his scruff for the occasion. It made him appear much younger and less threatening than earlier. He had to be in his mid to late twenties. Al Sah-him was looking back at her. His piercing blue eyes studied her face, and Felicity noticed them linger on her hair. She waited to see his reaction to her not obeying his order to leave it down, but it never came. He gazed back at her intently, a mixture of inquisitiveness and, dare she say, admiration. She remembered Sara's promise to work her magic so that Al Sah-him wouldn't be able to take his eyes off of her. Wherever she was in the room, Felicity could picture her watching with a satisfied smirk that she'd delivered on that.

"Let us begin," said the priestess, interrupting their silent exchange.

Al Sah-him held out his hand to lead her forward. Felicity glanced at it but made no move to accept. The last time he'd touched her she'd gotten a brand to the back. Her wound instinctively throbbed at the memory, and she turned to the priestess without a second glance at him. When he was also facing the priestess, the swords behind them were lowered. They could be heard swishing through the air.

The priestess held up her hands, and the sound of boots turning in unison echoed in the room. "There is no vow more sacred, nor covenant more holy, than the one between man and woman," she proclaimed. "Your souls are bound together, forever joined. You will never be free."

Felicity couldn't help but look down as the anger bubbled up inside of her. Any hesitation she might have felt about what she was about to do was gone. Freedom was all she'd ever wanted. It was bad enough that she was standing there marrying a perfect stranger, but even the damn vows had to be oppressive. Somehow, she could feel Al Sah-him's eyes on her. Felicity twitched her arm ever so slightly, allowing the metal to slip lower.

"You will always be held captive by your love for each other," the priestess continued.

Having heard enough, Felicity moved quickly. She gripped the dagger in her right hand fully and lunged for Al Sah-him. Faster than she could blink, his hand came up to block her assault. He was like a rock, hard and unmoving. When she realized there was absolutely no way she could fight his strength, Felicity dropped the dagger. They glared at each other fiercely before Felicity finally looked away. She shot a glance to her father. He seemed positively livid. Oddly enough, she took comfort in having angered him.

"Continue," Al Sah-him said after a moment.

The priestess nodded. "And in this shared life, we offer blessings." She bowed her head and switched to Arabic. Al Sah-him and the others followed along while Felicity stared at a spot on the wall, saying her own prayer that it would be over soon. She couldn't stand the fakeness and strange eyes on her, judging her.

"Al Sah-him." The woman held her hand out, and he placed his on top. She turned to Felicity. "Abad-eshams."

As Sara had said, that was Felicity's cue. She begrudgingly put out her own hand and let the woman place it over Al Sah-him's. The priestess covered their joined hands before reciting more Arabic. She then announced, "The union is sealed. You may kiss your bride."

Felicity reeled back and tensed at that. Did they seriously expected them to kiss? Then again, who was she kidding? They were now married, and they'd never even had a full conversation with each other. A kiss would be nothing. She cautiously looked at Al Sah-him. He watched her, probably wondering if she had any other weapons on her, before leaning in.

"If your lips come anywhere near mine, you're going to wish I'd stabbed you," she threatened under her breath.

Al Sah-him hesitated for the tiniest second. His lips then briefly connected with her cheek. With him so close, Felicity breathed in the spicy musk of his cologne. To her annoyance, it actually smelled amazing and she unknowingly leaned more into him. Her cheek was tingling even after he pulled away, which caused her to feel both warm and disturbed. Applause broke out in the room. In her peripheral vision, Felicity saw at least one person not joining in. Talia stood next to her sister, ramrod straight and scowling. If looks could kill, Felicity would be ash where she stood.

The banquet that followed was almost as torturous as the ceremony. The long rows of tables had been set up in a hall that looked as dark and undecorated as almost every other room she'd been in since arriving. Felicity was seated next to her new husband at the main table, with her father on her right. On Al Sah-him's other side sat Ra's and his daughters. Sara was at a nearby table laughing with some other League members. Everyone had finally taken off their masks, and it surprised Felicity how normal they all looked and interacted in a less formal setting.

Felicity remained quiet while everyone else talked around her. With her fork, she turned her food around in her plate. She hadn't been given a knife, for obvious reasons. Every so often she felt Al Sah-him's stare. She refused to look up. Him being her husband now didn't change anything. She still wanted nothing to do with him.

"You're not eating," he eventually commented. His voice was deep and raspy, but there was a softer quality to it than she'd heard earlier.

She mumbled, "I'm not hungry."

"You should eat. You've had a long day. It'll catch up with you quickly."

Her grip tightened on her fork. No shit she had a long day. She'd had the worst day ever and certainly didn't need him to point that out. "I can't eat it," Felicity declared.

"It was very generous of Ra's to throw this banquet in honor of your union," her father cut in. "Eat your dinner, Felicity."

Being scolded like a petulant child did nothing to improve her mood. She faced her father, her expression hard. "There are nuts in this dish. I'm allergic. Or have you forgotten?" she challenged. It wouldn't be the first time he'd overlooked an important detail of her life. He really was vying for that Father of the Year Award—especially after the crap he pulled tonight.

"I'll have them bring you something else," Al Sah-him interjected, reclaiming her attention.

"I don't want anything from you," she snapped.

He kept talking as if she hadn't just insulted him. "What do you like?"

"My freedom." To Felicity's satisfaction, she saw the muscle in his jaw tick ever so slightly. She found it odd that her glib comment elicited more of a reaction than her trying to stab him earlier. It was even more proof that these people really weren't normal.

Her father slammed his utensils on the table, though not loud enough for anyone else not seated next to him to hear. "You are a spoiled, ungrateful brat," he said under his breath. "You shame me."

His words stung, but she kept a straight face. "Then we're even, because I've been ashamed of you for years now. And I'm sure Mom would agree."

Anger flashed in his eyes at the mention of her mother, and he lifted his hand. In that moment, Felicity actually thought he might hit her. It was Al Sah-him that interrupted. "Don't," he ordered.

"She's my daughter," Damien retorted, obviously not liking being told what to do—especially from a former enemy that had to be half his age.

"In the eyes of the League, this woman is now my wife. You don't get to touch her without my permission," Al Sah-him asserted. "And I'm not giving it." His tone left no room for argument.

Felicity's eyes widened in shock as she glanced between the two men facing off. She couldn't remember a time that anyone stood up to her father without facing some kind of punishment. Al Sah-him, showing no sign of fear, wasn't backing down an inch.

"Come now," Ra's finally spoke up. "This is a celebration. Let us drink more wine to honor the alliance." It was a subtle reminder of what was at stake. He lifted his goblet.

Her father seemed to remember himself and followed suit. "An excellent idea."

Ra's tipped his goblet to him. "Women are complicated creatures. Be thankful your daughter is no longer a burden you have to bear," he jested. The two men laughed.

Felicity sneaked a peek at Al Sah-him. He was watching her again, and she wondered if he saw the flash of hurt that had crossed her face. Felicity, un-amused by the joke at her expense, briefly contemplated if either her father or Ra's would be quick enough to dodge a flying fork. It was probably useless, since Ra's had trained Al Sah-him and he had caught that dagger in a second.

"I understand you have two daughters yourself," Damien said.

"Yes. Nyssa and Talia were brought up in the League. They've earned their places—though one tends to be a little more enthusiastic about her duties than the other."

Although the two women had to have heard, neither reacted to their father's comment. They were as still as the stone that surrounded them. Felicity was suddenly grateful she never had any siblings. Her relationship with her father was strained enough. If he'd had another child to compare her to or pit her against, it would've been so much worse. Felicity would assume Ra's favored Nyssa, since she was older and seemed to have more composure. But Talia's earlier dig at her sister led her to believe that the younger sibling had the upper hand.

"Warith, pardon the intrusion." An Asian man of medium height appeared at Al Sah-him's side. "You wanted to know if our guest awoke."

"Is he talking?"

"He seems more agreeable today."

Al Sah-him looked to Ra's, who nodded in return. "I'll speak with him." He turned to Felicity. "I'll return shortly."

Oh, goodie, Felicity thought. She chose to keep her mouth shut, following the old adage that if she didn't have anything nice to say then she shouldn't say anything at all. What grated on her even more was the nervousness of being left alone with her father and Ra's. The only reason she'd gotten away with some of her jabs was because of Al Sah-him. She hated that a part of her was frightened of what they'd do if she angered them without him around—not that she trusted her new husband all that much either. No one who rose as Heir to the Demon did so by being a saint.

After Al Sah-him excused himself, Felicity was quiet the rest of the meal. A different plate was brought out to her, which she barely touched. Her lack of hunger wasn't totally because of her stubbornness. She was relieved the banquet ended rather quickly afterward. When it was time for her father to leave, he made a show of saying good-bye. He said that he would come and visit in a few months. Felicity didn't expect him to keep his promise. As furious as she was with him, however, the fear and panic overwhelmed her as soon as he walked out the door. Loneliness set in, and she truly felt like a lamb in the lion's den.

"I'll take you to your quarters," Sara informed her. Apparently, the woman was her unofficial handler. It didn't bother Felicity. Despite the circumstances, Sara was the only person she felt comfortable around. She was relieved when it was just the two of them and not more guards trailing them. They traveled down another set of corridors, where the clanging of metal and weapons echoed in the halls. The farther they walked, the quieter it became.

"This wing is for the Demon and his kin." They passed a young, beautiful brunette standing in a doorway. Her gown was simple yet elegant, and her neck was dripping in jewels. The woman scrutinized them as they walked by.

"She's the Demon's mistress—or one of them I should say."

"Charming," Felicity muttered. A thought occurred to her. "Does Al Sah-him have one, as well?" If he did, then maybe he would leave her alone. On the other hand, Felicity didn't need another jealous lover who'd want her dead.

"No. He's never taken one formally," Sara answered.

Felicity was both irked and strangely pleased by that information. They eventually stopped in front of an elaborate wooden door with various carvings of symbols and creatures she didn't recognize.

"These are Al Sah-him's quarters."

Her attention was diverted from the design, and she whipped her head toward Sara. "What?"

"Now that you're married, you'll be sleeping with him."

"I'm not sleeping with anyone," Felicity was swift to object. "I barely know him. You can't honestly expect me to feel comfortable with this. Besides, you've got like a thousand rooms in this place. You must have one that's vacant."

"Abad-eshams—"

"Felicity," she corrected.

"I wasn't implying that you two would do the deed. That is between you and your new husband. All I was told is that you're to stay with him." She added, "I've also made sure there are no spare daggers lying around in case you get any more bad ideas."

"Sara, please," Felicity desperately begged. "Don't leave me here." It wasn't like Felicity didn't expect them to have a wedding night but now that she was standing outside of his bedroom, the reality of what she was about to face hit her full force.

The blonde's expression softened around the edges. "You don't need to fear him," Sara calmly assured her. "He may be the Heir to the Demon, but he's not a monster." She proceeded to open the door and motioned for Felicity to enter.

Felicity stalled as long as she could before cautiously stepping inside. Expecting more bare walls and darkness, she was astonished to see the room decorated in red tones and fabrics. There was a four-poster canopy bed against the wall covered by a deep red and gold comforter with a pile of matching pillows. Across from the bed was a seating area with couches, surrounding a built-in fire pit. It was lit and had a cover to keep the flames at bay. The heat wasn't stifling, since the doors to the balcony were open. There was also a couple of dressers with a long mirror over them. In addition to the torch lamps, numerous candles were spread throughout the room.

Felicity was so busy taking it all in that she completely forgot about Sara until she heard the squeak of the door closing behind her. The key in the lock followed, and she knew for sure that she was trapped. She took a couple of deep breaths to keep calm. At least Al Sah-him hadn't been waiting for her, and she'd have a few minutes to get ahold of herself.

She saw another door in the corner near the bed and went to investigate. It was a bathroom, and she sighed in relief that there was indoor plumbing. A tub was carved into the stone with a curtain-less shower next to it. Felicity was tempted to take off her clothes and wash up properly but didn't trust that she wouldn't be interrupted. Felicity checked the balcony next. Her hope of escaping that way was shot when she saw how high up they were. True to Sara's word, there didn't appear to be any kind of sharp object that Felicity could defend herself with. There wasn't even a poker for the fire pit.

Groaning in frustration, Felicity sunk down on the bed. It was then that she noticed the beige silk and lace nightgown laid out on the bed. There was a matching robe, as well. Felicity stood up and backed away from it. If he thought she was going to wear that, he had another thing—she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her heavy makeup was still intact but not as neat. The wedding gown and veil were disheveled and made her shoulders sag. Felicity was once again bombarded by the feeling that she wasn't herself.

She reached for the veil and yanked it off. The pins in her hair were removed, and it fell in wavy locks over her shoulders. The jewelry was next. Staring at the gown a second time, Felicity huffed in annoyance. She hated it, and the thick fabric was making her sweat in the already toasty room. Her body felt stifled and icky. After a few more minutes of turning her options over in her mind, Felicity begrudgingly grabbed the nightgown and headed for the bathroom. Locking the door, she undressed and found some clean towels and soap to wash with in the sink. She left the bandage on her shoulder, not wanting to touch it until she took a look. When she was finished, she at least felt refreshed. The nightgown also felt cool and comfortable against her irritated skin. Before leaving the bathroom, Felicity tied the bathrobe over it.

Felicity left her wedding dress in a pile in the corner of the bathroom before returning to the bedroom. She looked around, unsure what to do with herself. The League bordered on archaic, since there was absolutely no working piece of technology she could find. For someone who loved technology—she'd been building computers since she was seven years old—being stuck in Nanda Parbat without any connection to the modern world was only adding to her stress.

She looked to the balcony and figured some fresh air would do her good. It was her only glimpse of the outside world at the moment. The temperature was comfortable, and the cool breeze felt nice. The full moon shone big and bright in the night sky. Felicity wasn't sure if she was facing the front or back of the compound, but what she could see from the silvery glow was a giant wall in the distance. It was yet another obstacle to her freedom, and she felt her chest tighten. She leaned on the railing, feeling another jolt of pain. Whatever remedy they'd given her earlier for her wound must be wearing off, because her shoulder started to throb. She really should take a look at it.

Felicity turned to head back into the bedroom and let out a small shriek of surprise when she saw Al Sah-him standing in the doorway. She hadn't even heard him come in. "Don't you knock?" she snapped, placing a hand over her hammering heart.

"It is my room," he pointed out. He was still dressed in his wedding attire, and she was once again struck by how damn handsome he looked—the bastard.

"Don't you mean our room?" Felicity sarcastically replied.

His eyes traveled the length of her, and Felicity folded her arms in an effort not to fidget. "Point taken," he acknowledged with a nod. "Were you coming in?"

"I'll come in when I'm ready to come in," she stubbornly answered. Felicity wasn't sure because of the darkness, but she thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement.

"Suit yourself." Al Sah-him barely spared her another glance before walking into the bedroom. He opened one of the dresser drawers, grabbed some clothes, and headed for the bathroom.

Felicity let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Considering how barbaric the League was, she half expected him to pounce on her as soon as he came through the door. The night was still young, though, and she wouldn't be so quick to let down her guard—no matter what Sara said.

Walking back inside, Felicity heard the shower turn on in the bathroom. Now was probably as good a time as any to check out her wound, considering she'd have to remove some of her clothing to do it. She undid the bathrobe, leaving it on the couch, and walked over to the dresser with the mirror. Positioning herself so her right side faced the mirror, Felicity reached back to remove the bandage. The movement tugged at her raw skin, causing her to hiss in pain. Undeterred, Felicity gently removed the bandage and gasped.

The entire area of skin was red and inflamed but what was really jarring was the symbol. It covered the majority of her right shoulder blade and was shaped like some kind of arrow. The brand was deep and would most definitely leave a scar on her formerly smooth and unmarred back when it healed. Felicity took a shaky breath, fighting back tears. It was hideous.

The bathroom door opened suddenly. Al Sah-him walked out and paused as they both took the other in. He was shirtless and wearing nothing but a pair of loose black pants. If she thought he was good-looking before, he was on a whole different level now. Felicity had to blink a few times to believe it. His torso was all hard, defined muscle that practically rippled with the tiniest movement. He stood tall with is broad shoulders apart and his sculpted arms by his sides. There was a tattoo on his left pectoral muscle—it looked like some ancient symbol—and Arabic writing that went sideways down the right side of his abs. Abs that were sporting an eight-pack instead of the usual six.

Once she got past the fact that he was ripped, Felicity was able to focus on the scars that marred his skin. There were various burns and slashes going up and down his torso, as well as his arms. She suspected his back looked similar. Felicity could barely stand the branding she'd suffered tonight and couldn't imagine the years of hurt and abuse his scars boasted. For the briefest moment, she actually felt sorry for him.

Al Sah-him was the first to look away and walked over to the nightstand by the bed. He grabbed a small ceramic pot before returning to the bathroom. He came out seconds later with a wet cloth and approached her. "That needs to be cleaned and treated again or else it'll get infected."

Finally snapping out of her stupor, Felicity replied, "I can do it myself." With a nod, he placed the items on the dresser for her. She reached for the cloth first and attempted to pat down the area. Not only was it difficult to reach the entire area, but the straining along with the contact of the cloth made her flinch in pain and exhale sharply.

Al Sah-him hadn't stopped watching her. "Do you need some help?"

"No," she gritted out and made her second attempt. The throbbing increased. She leaned her hands on the dresser, shutting her eyes and trying to get a grip. She could do this. She would not show weakness. Felicity felt his looming presence behind her and whipped around. "What are you doing?"

"Let me do it."

"Don't you dare touch me. You've done enough," she accused.

Al Sah-him remained unfazed. "We all get branded when we join the League. It's part of the initiation."

"An initiation I didn't ask to be a part of," Felicity bit back. She let the anger fuel her. If she let the sadness and hopelessness in, she'd lose it. The last thing she needed was to let this man see her cry.

He smirked wryly. "I'm well aware of that. Getting married to the daughter of my enemy wasn't exactly on my bucket list either."

"Yet you agreed."

"I'm Warith al Ghul, Heir to the Demon. I did what was best for the League."

"Let's drop the pretenses. You bought me from my father and are holding me captive."

"Your father didn't tell us you were so unwilling," he countered.

"That didn't stop you barbarians, did it though?"

"We're not as crude as you make us out to be. As my wife, you'll want for nothing. In modern-day terms, you'll be something of a princess. You'll be respected and cared for. After what I witnessed between you and your father tonight, I'd say it's a step up from anything H.I.V.E. has offered you."

She bristled at that. "Contrary to popular belief, not all girls grow up wanting to be a princess. I'm sure my father left out quite a few things when he was making his pitch to you and Ra's. For instance, did you know that I graduated from MIT. In case you don't know, MIT is—"

"I know what it is," Al Sah-him interjected. "Just because I live in a remote location doesn't mean I'm ignorant to the outside world."

"Fine, whatever. But I graduated from MIT when I was nineteen years old with both my bachelor's and master's degrees in IT and Cyber Security. I've gotten the opportunity to work for some of the best tech companies in the world, who would've hired me full time if my father hadn't intervened at every turn. I was finally just starting to make friends and have a life when I was snatched from my home, thrown into the back of a van, and drugged and dragged here so I could be used as a pawn in your negotiations," she ranted, holding nothing back. Felicity might not have been able to say it to her father, but her new husband had earned an earful. "As if that's not humiliating enough, you people come at me with a burning hot poker and decide to permanently mark me. As if you selfish sons of bitches actually own me. Now I'm married to a complete stranger, who's delusional enough not to see how wrong this all is and actually thinks I can be bought off with a fake title and the illusion of luxury."

"What do you want then?" he challenged before swiftly adding, "Other than to be released, because what's done is done. The union is already sealed and binding."

She met his gaze head on. "What I want is to be given a choice."

Al Sah-him scrutinized her closely. It was difficult to read him with that stoic expression on his face. "Contrary to what you believe, I didn't particularly enjoy watching you get branded," he replied, his tone subdued. "But you do have a choice. You can either let me help you take care of this wound so it heals properly, or you can try to do it yourself and hope that you've done a good enough job to not get infected."

Felicity was unsure what to make of his admission. It wasn't an actual apology, but it wasn't completely without remorse. "If I let you touch me, it doesn't give you free reign. This may be our wedding night, but I am neither your blushing nor willing bride." She wanted to make that clear.

"I've never had to force a woman to be with me, and I'm not about to start now," he shot back, sounding almost offended.

Somewhat placated, Felicity promptly turned around and handed him the cloth. She watched in the mirror as he closed the distance between them. Now that she was out of her heels, he towered over her. Standing so close together showed how small she really was compared to him. Felicity was a fraction of his size and could feel the heat emanating from his body. He was all hard lines and muscle, his strength clearly on display. The realization that she wouldn't stand a chance against him if he did decide he wanted to consummate their union was unsettling.

Al Sah-him, unaware of her inner turmoil, set upon on his task. He swiped her hair aside to get a better look at the wound. The feeling of his rough fingers against her sensitive skin sent an unexpected shock to her system, and Felicity suppressed a shiver. He pressed the cloth gently to her raw skin. Felicity's nose scrunched since it wasn't completely painless, but he was careful not to exacerbate it.

"How badly does it hurt?" he questioned, softening his voice. "On a scale of one to five, five being the worst, what is it?"

Felicity met his eyes in the mirror and cleared her throat lightly. "Almost a four."

He reached for the small pot. "This salve should help with that. You'll need to put this on three times a day until it's fully healed." He murmured and waited, "I need to lower your strap."

Felicity, not trusting her voice at the moment, nodded in assent and lifted her hand to keep her top in place. Al Sah-him carefully slid it over her shoulder. He opened the pot and dipped his fingers inside. The first swipe of the ointment made her tense, and she bit back a groan. Within seconds, it felt cool against the raw burn.

"You know, of the two of us, I'm probably the one who should be nervous to be alone with you," he casually stated. "You were pretty crafty with that dagger. I thought you said you weren't a killer."

She was thrown for a moment by the change in subject, recognizing his attempt to divert her attention from the pain and ease the awkward tension. She smartly replied, "I wasn't trying to kill you. Just maybe maim you enough to get you to change your mind…" She shrugged, which wasn't the best thing for her sore shoulder. "You're lucky I didn't have my glasses."

"You wear glasses normally?" He sounded surprised.

"Yes. Although I have no clue where the hell they are now. They fell off at some point when I was trying to fight off my father's goons."

"Is it difficult to see without them?"

"I'm not blind, but not everything is in focus. And forget trying to read," she lamented. "I'll probably wake up with one hell of a headache tomorrow from straining."

Al Sah-him absently nodded as he continued to massage the ointment into her skin. "Where did you get the dagger?"

Regardless of his mundane tone, it was a loaded question. Felicity didn't hesitate to tell him the truth. "Talia dropped it after she almost stabbed me." He paused in his ministrations to look at her. Was that genuine concern on his face? "Obviously, Nyssa stopped her before she could do any damage."

His eyes hardened and jaw clenched for a few seconds before his expression was neutral once more. "You should stay away from her. She's more dangerous than she looks."

"Yeah, I kinda already figured that out," Felicity quipped.

He finished rubbing in the last of the ointment. "Are you always so sarcastic?"

"Yes. It's clearly part of my charm."

He was fighting a smile which, oddly enough, brought a small one to her own face. Felicity was quick to catch herself. What the heck was wrong with her? He said a few nice words and suddenly all was forgiven? She schooled her features and said with a little too much force, "Are you almost done?"

Him being so close was messing with her head. They were straddling the line of awkwardness and intimacy, and the sight of their reflection in the mirror wasn't helping. It looked like bare skin on skin as he tended to her wound. Even more embarrassing was the way her nightgown showcased her hardened nipples through the thin material. His touch had unexpectedly radiated throughout her body, and it was reacting.

"You need a new bandage. Hold on."

On his way into the bathroom, Felicity finally got a look at his back. There were a bunch more scars, as predicted, and another tattoo shaped like a dragon. But his own brand was what piqued her curiosity. Al Sah-him returned with a small first-aid kit. He placed it on the dresser and searched for a gauze pad and some tape.

"Why do I have the same symbol as you? Is it the same for everyone?" she spoke up when he was almost finished. "It's an arrow, right?"

"It's my special symbol. Al Sah-him means The Arrow."

"Can I see it?"

Al Sah-him watched her for a moment before obliging. Up close, the raised skin where the brand had marked him was more apparent. She also saw that his was much bigger than hers. "Why are you called The Arrow?" Before Felicity even realized what she was doing, her hand reached out to touch it. He tensed up for a second and then relaxed as her fingers traced the outline. His skin was softer than she expected.

"Tomorrow I'll show you." His voice had lowered. Al Sah-him turned and caught her hand before she could pull it back. "No free reign, remember?" he recited her earlier words, though it was more of a tease than a threat. Felicity stared back at him in shock and automatically flushed. "No blushing bride either."

"I'm not blushing," she denied and yanked her hand away.

Al Sah-him didn't look like he believed her. He took a step forward, which instantly made her retreat into the dresser. She was suddenly boxed in by him. He was so close she could smell the tangy soap he'd used. See the dark blue flecks in his otherwise bright eyes. Feel the heat from his large, strong body. "I meant what I said, Felicity." The husky timber of her name on his lips formed goose bumps on her skin. "I won't force you into anything. But if you do want something from me, all you need to do is ask."

He stepped back just as suddenly and motioned to the left. "You can have the bed. Better get some sleep. I'll give you the grand tour tomorrow."

Felicity stared at his retreating back and took a labored breath. She felt as exhilarated as she did shaken. She was practically in a daze when she got into the king-sized bed. It was much softer than the one she'd been on earlier. Meanwhile, Al Sah-him was putting out most of the candles so there was nothing more than a faint glow in the room. He took the largest couch, which wasn't exactly long enough to support his entire frame. Felicity pulled the covers all the way up to her chin and laid there, tense. Only one thought was on a loop in her mind. What in the hell had just happened?