Strip or I will make you

~Nariya Patel~

The chime of the clock, combined with the aroma of vintage paper, created a perfect study atmosphere. My eyes remained fixated on the screen as I navigated through numerous theoretical documents. Earlier, after waking up from an afternoon nap, reinvigorated with newfound energy, I decided to utilize the library computer to channel this vitality into something productive. With exams just around the corner, it felt like the opportune time to revise and plan ahead. Yet, studies weren't the sole occupant of my thoughts. Finances were another matter that preoccupied much of my thinking.

I might have agreed to stay with this man—sorry, the Great Lord of the Manor, Sire Alexie I, the slayer of evil incarnations, savior of the princess, charmer of the King, he who is named by all ladies as the Ice Duke. His cold nature targeted towards all, but when he meets the princess, he melts, blossoming their love... A snicker left my lips at the absurdity. I need to stop and think about more important matters, much more important than this. I could find a part-time job; however, I was still not allowed to do an internship for one more semester. This pompous rule was what had put my brilliant talent to waste in a supermarket, counting pennies to make ends meet.

I heard a knock on the double door as the handle slowly opened his head now perfectly healed peeked in as he said "Nari, I brought you some hot chocolate."

My eyes widen as I remioneded myself, eye contact, nodding I said "Yes, thankyou" He came in to place it on my desk and proceed to go out, but I called out. "Um, Lord…." This made his brows jerk a bit as he turned around a bit baffled. I bit my laughter, I don't know how or why, even though every cell in my body screamed that was every way possible contrary to my target, yet, his face, the tightening of jaws, it made me want it more, want him more.

I continued "I was wondering that day.." I trailed off the understanding clear in his eyes which day I was referring to I continued "did you find my cell phone and luggage?"

Blinking, he looked at me. "I placed your luggage in the wardrobe..." I mouthed an "oh" at that; the day I saw the expensive wardrobe, I never bothered to venture much. "As for your phone, well, it was broken, so it's currently being repaired."

Relief washed over my features. I certainly was in no position to afford a new phone, and the option to get it from this man was out of the books; no way could I accept that. Most importantly, that phone consisted of many precious memories. I couldn't afford to lose them, no matter what. A smile bloomed on my lips at the thought, and I said, daring a bit more, "Thank you." I looked at him, my eyes hooded in poise, and added, "My lord."

I could tell he was biting the insides of his cheeks to control his demons. With a curt nod, he walked out. I licked my lips; I was not a flirting nymph, but the thought of melting the Ice Duke induced a hint of mischief in my mind.

Several hours had passed since I finished. As I stretched my taut muscles, back pain reminded me of reality. I wished for one of my injured parts to heal so I could resume my yoga routine. Hunger demanded my attention as I made my way out, finding Nyx meowing at my feet. I looked around; the Lord's presence was nowhere to be found. Heading towards the kitchen and fetching a glass of water, I noticed a note awaiting my arrival. As I read, it revealed:

"Nari, I am busy with some work; the dinner is in the fridge—reheat it before consuming. Also, can you feed Nyx one packet of wet food, placed in the lower compartment of the left side of the island. Thanks.

Your Lord."

My eyes widened as I spat the contents of my mouth onto the kitchen counter, startling Nyx as she jumped away in surprise. I laughed, the back of my throat hurting when I did so, and started coughing instead. Tears welled up in my eyes; it had been a very refreshing laugh after a very long time. After what seemed like an eternity, my breathing calmed down a bit. I glanced at the crockpot and opened its lid to reveal a beautiful, spicy Thupka awaiting me. I had only had it once before, a Tibetan dish made of spicy tangy broth with noodles in it. This time, I guessed Chef Lord had used buckwheat noodles, like many monasteries do in Tibetan and Northern regions of India.

I glanced at Nyx; this was a perfect dish, best enjoyed boiling hot, and it would complement the chilly winds blowing outside. I placed the pot on the stove while I went to my closet to prepare. If Ale—no, my Lord—was not eating with me, I thought this was a great chance to have an outdoor dinner. In my closet, I found my luggage tucked in a corner. After contemplating for a bit, I still opted for my own clothes rather than sullying the ones provided by him. I dressed up in a thick puffer jacket and a woolen skirt.

I glanced towards the stairs once as I made my way outside to the patio, placing my dishes and Nyx's food bowl side by side. Lighting a candle in the middle, I served us both. In newfound spirit, Nyx seemed excited as her tail twitched uncontrollably. As my dinner finished, I glanced up; the nightfall had summoned a twinkle in the stars. As I marveled, I realized someone's gaze on me. Looking around, I saw a finger in the dark on the first-floor window. Unsure of what to do, I decided to wave at him, urging him to join us. But before I could, he just moved away, and my hand dropped. What was wrong with me, I wondered; we were still strangers. Looking down, a pang in my heart made me sigh—not that I didn't enjoy having food with someone else; it had been some time after all. Sighing, I decided to put everything back in.

As I made my way back to the room, a sudden itch formed on my skin, and the urge to scratch it was so prominent that even my injured hand moved towards it. Then I remembered the ointment that I was supposed to put on my cuts every day. Dang it, the medicine high had totally made me forget all about it. Making my way to my room, I unscrewed the tube and started to apply it to the cuts on my back. However, there was just a small problem—scratch that—a kind of bigger problem: I can't reach my back. Now, I just tried to twiddle with my body in efforts to reach my back, but they all probably looked hilarious.

"What are you doing?" a confused voice asked from the hallway.

My eyes widened; in my frenzy, I had forgotten to close my door as I watched a concerned man walking towards me. Instantly, my reflexes went to hide the tube behind me. I didn't want him to see the disgraceful marks on my body, the ugly sight that would upset anyone. I didn't want him to see and think of me as trash. But even if he did, there was nothing I could do, for I am.

But his own strike was faster; in an instant, he grabbed the tube from me, his scrutinizing gaze never leaving me. Gulping, I wondered what excuse to make. "Um… it's... okay... I can..."

"Turn around; I'll put it on for you," he said, his voice calm and gentle.

But I just couldn't; something in me bubbled up as I looked down and said, "I… I don't want you to touch me…." What I said was a complete lie. I had felt his touch just this morning, those cold fingers pressed against my heating skin—they felt amazing, yet I couldn't let him see. The incident that night in the alleyway had caused not only those scars but also memories that I tried to suppress every day. It was not easy, but I knew this was not the most terrible thing that had happened to me. I have gone through worse. I was the worse, yet I didn't want him to think so. Why did his opinion matter, I wondered....

I looked up; his grey eyes had turned dark, the firm lips shut in a tight line before he took a ragged breath and spoke, "Strip."

Still in shock, I made myself look at him one more time. The air in the room had turned cold, and goosebumps formed on my arms. Then his voice strained again as he said, "Strip," and he turned around, adding in his deep accent, "Or I will make you!" With that, he darted out of the room.

I shivered. What was that? Who was that? It was all over again when I was attacked in the alleyway. The way his piercing gaze had instilled fear in me; I knew then that this man was mostly calm until he wasn't. The warning lingered in the air, and I knew it was no empty threat. So, I did what I was commanded. I turned around and pushed the fabric of my shirt over my head, using it to cover my chest. My heart beat fast, but I couldn't bring myself to look back.

The echo of his strides bounced in the empty halls as I anticipated his arrival in my room; the bed behind me dipped, and I instinctively shut my eyes. I didn't realize I was shivering when a soft voice cooed in my ear, "Hush, calm down moonpie; I will never hurt you."

Opening my lids, I breathed in and asked, "..promise?"

"On my soul," he replied, his words filled with solemn conviction.

His gentle fingers worked their way through the cuts, the cold ointment sending chills down my spine. His touch remained purely platonic, delicately brushing against the skin for a fleeting second, leaving a subtle warmth in its wake. Swiftly, he moved on to another section, his attention shifting seamlessly, as though each touch was calculated and purposeful in his meticulous approach. Just within a few minutes, he said, "Done," so I pushed my shirt over my head, the oversized fabric covering me in its warmth. Biting my lips, I looked back, watching him peel gloves off of his hands.

My eyes widened in surprise as I cautiously asked, "What is that?" His response was unexpected, informing me that he had detected my reluctance and refrained from touching me. Grateful, I thanked him for respecting my boundaries, and he nodded in acknowledgment. With a polite "Goodnight," he left the room, leaving me to contemplate the unusual encounter. The air seemed to carry a mix of relief and tension, and as the door closed, I couldn't help but ponder the complexities of our interactions and the unspoken nuances that lingered in the atmosphere.