Welcome To My Personal Hell

Emilia's POV

Halfway down to my lips, he suddenly stopped. Heat rose from my belly as he leaned back, another smile lighting up his face again. I couldn't tell why, but every inch of me drummed in want for his kiss.

“I shouldn't dent your powders and stuff.” He said, cradling my face in his palms, so I had to gaze straight into his eyes. He brushed his thumb on my lips gently, his fingers warm and soothing. While I kept staring into his eyes, the silver sheen in them held me in place. “We could do that after our marriage vows.”

Marriage vows. The words rang through me like a charge, snapping my senses back to me. I pulled my gaze from his, and I shrugged myself from his arm.

He let go but grabbed onto my wrist almost immediately when my legs slipped on the edge of the stairs and I threatened to drop down again.

I stared down at the long, strong, and elegant fingers clasped around my wrist, tight and warm around me. “I am sorry, but I can't marry you,” I said.

“Why?” he demanded, his smile slipping off his face. He was curt, but his voice was a bit rough, as if he’d drawn the word from the depth of his lungs.

I lifted my head to his face again. But I refuse to look into his eyes. Instead, I traced the outlines of his jaw, his nose… anything but his eyes. I couldn't tell him I had gotten here via a book. That I wasn't of his world. That I had my family and my whole life waiting for me in my own world. Those just didn't seem like tales a duke would believe.

“I just don’t think we should do this.” I said. “I don't think I should—”

He pressed his thumb on my lips to shut me up. He brought his face lower to mine, his breath warm on my nose as he stared straight into my eyes. I drew back a bit, when it seemed like he was reaching deep for my soul with his eyes.

“Don't think, Emilia. Let's just do this.” He whispered, his voice back to being soft—softer. They soothed my ears, sending a flush of calm through the whole of me.

He took my hand gently from my side, raising it to the air—medieval style. He smiled again. “Don't think, Emilia. Let's just do this.” He said, pulling me carefully with him.

As if by magic, my thoughts froze in my head. My mind went blank—displaying nothing. All I heard was his voice, and all I saw were those pale green eyes brightening in a smile for me. My legs began to move—a foot, then another, and another. Gradually, he led me down the corridor. “Let's do this, Emilia. Don't think,” he kept saying and kept leading me away.

Still holding my hands and holding my eyes with his smile, he led me past the large, massive columns of the front entrance of a gigantic castle.

I kept staring into his pale green eyes, tracing the smooth planes of his face, and my legs kept moving at his lead—over the long crimson carpet that leads to the altar. I was either being hypnotized or was just plain stupid. Because I couldn't stop myself—couldn’t stop myself from walking into an obvious doom. Why? I didn't even know. My mind came up with nothing. It was a blank slate inside my head.

Towering stone columns lined the long aisle. Each wrapped in silk banners bearing a sigil—a black stag against a silver moon.

A low murmur rippled through the hall. Men and women dressed in silk, velvets, and brocades rose from high-backed chairs, their eyes flickering on us—watching us. The murmurs grew but were soon swallowed by a slow, majestic tune that resumed from the orchestra.

The scents of beeswax and rosewater hung in the air, like a curse. High arched windows on the walls filtered in beams of golden sunlight, reflecting on the marble floors.

We walked past the honor guards in their glimmering armors, stopping at the altar, where an aged man dressed as an archbishop presided.

The vows passed fast in a haze, while I kept staring into his eyes, a strange force keeping me glued to them. The next thing I knew, his hands cupped my face, and he leaned his head low for me. His lips pressed down on mine with a weight that pushed me back a bit. But then, his strong arm circled around my back, and he held me firm for his kiss.

His velvety lips brushed mine, hot and hungry as they pulled my lower lip and then upper lip, so his tongue could lick and tease me.

He withdrew from my lips, leaning towards my ear, his warm breath stinging my neck. “I am sorry, Emilia, for bringing you into my personal hell. But I had to do this. A duke always needs his duchess,” he whispered.

As soon as he spoke, he released his grip on my waist and slipped from me, striding into the crowd of well-wishers that began to crowd him.

I exhaled loudly, with a spasm that jerked me forward, and I emptied every bit of air stored up in my lungs. As if a veil had been lifted on my mind, my senses rolled back, and so did a barrage of thoughts. My eyes grew round, trailing slowly from the altar to the archbishop to the orchestra to the high stone walls of the cathedral. What have I just done?

I staggered back from the weight of realization. My legs shook terribly beneath me, teetering without balance on the marble stairs of the altar as cold tremors washed down the whole of me.

I collapsed into something solid—a person—just before I could hit the ground.

I turned—Gabby. But she wasn’t smiling. Her whole face was tightened in a snarl.

“Do you realize what you have just done, Emilia?” She snarled, her voice loud enough that it stung but low enough that it was swallowed by the loud murmur in the hall and the music from the orchestra.

“Gabby, I don't know what came over me. I didn't mean to—” I reached for her hands.

But she jumped back from me before I could reach her. Eyeing my hands and then the whole of me, like I was something from a bin basket rather than her childhood best friend.

Her eyes wandered to the whole of the cathedral before returning back to me, strung tighter against themselves. “You have just doomed us both, doomed us to this place. Now you can never escape again. I have heard about your husband,” her tone scathing as she lifted her upper lip, eyes tight, nudging her jaw in the Duke’s direction. “Everyone is gossiping about him. He is handsome and powerful, but they say he is also a madman, that he is crazy. That's why no one wants him. But why should I care? You walked into this yourself. Only you had to bring me into this mess with you. I shouldn't have followed you to the library. I shouldn't even have made you my friend.” Then she spun back, walking into the crowd.

My lips parted to speak—to stop her. But they closed shut without a word. My stomach hardened inside of me, growing heavy with each sway of her large legs into the crowd.

“Gabby, Gabby,” I finally screamed her name. But what came out of my mouth sounded lower than a whisper, a painful tightness folding my throat against itself. Tears stung my eyes, casting a blurry veil on my vision. Gabby wasn't wrong. I have gotten myself into a mess—a big mess. What have I done?

Strong fingers clasped around my arm from behind, and I was spun back, my shoes scratching the marble floor with a soft cry.

Three men stood around me, their big bodies blocking off the sunlight. My eyes snapped open on them, the tears staining my vision drying off quickly, as I peered at their faces—they were… I threw my hand to my mouth, blocking off the scream that threatened to ripple out of my throat. They were all my brothers—Aaron, Brian, and Nathan.

I swallowed back the scream, remembering Mother too. They weren't real—at least not the versions I left behind in the real world.

I looked down to Aaron’s fingers tightening around my arm and then back to their faces. The heat in their eyes at me sent prickling sensations crawling down my skin. My heart pounded hard against my chest.

“You are coming with us, Emilia.” Aaron growled, his gaze hardening. Not waiting for my response, he began dragging me across the marble floor of the altar and towards a secluded corner of the hall.

He threw me roughly into the corner. Brian and Nathan planted their bodies beside him, cutting off the view of the guest from me and me from them.

Aaron's voice then rose above the music from the orchestra and the loud murmurings in the hall. “I don't like the way you were staring at Duke Sebastian. First, you refused to marry a madman. Then you were looking at him like you loved him.” His deep tenor voice was stern.

“Yes.” Brian supported. “Don't forget the mission. You are to make the crazy bastard fall in love with you, not the other way around. Don't spoil this mission for the family.”

Nathan swept me with his eyes, his look colder. “If you do anything to spoil our plans,. We will forget you are our sister and treat you like a slave that you ought to be treated as."

Aaron glared down at me for another long, slow moment. Then he turned, Brian and Nathan following closely behind him.

I slumped against the wall. My chest tightening inside of me, squeezing against my lungs. I had to lean my nostrils to the air, opening my mouth wide for air. I pressed my fingers on my chest to keep back the pain, to keep back the nagging ache in my heart, as I watched their lean, straight backs disappear further and further from me. What have I really gotten myself into?

Then I remembered my request to the bookstore owner. A story with a very devastating, sad ending that can shake me to my core. But this should only be the beginning. Why does it hurt so much?