Chapter 7 Arranged Marriages

Herman's POV

The partition rose with a soft whirr, sealing us off from Todd's watchful eyes. Maeve sat rigidly beside me, her hands folded tightly in her lap, the gentle waves of her light brown hair falling forward to shield her face.

"Another two mistakes you've made today," I said, thumb tracing the edge of the seat's heating control. The car glided smoothly onto the main road, carrying us away from the mansion.

Maeve's throat worked silently before she spoke. "I... I shouldn't have spoken so carelessly in front of Maria." Her voice frayed at the edges, like parchment pulled too taut. "And at breakfast, I shouldn't have provoked Kayla."

I studied her profile — the small mole on her left cheek quivering with each uneven breath, the nervous way she tucked her hair behind her ear. There was something off about her demeanor today, more than the usual undercurrent of tension. Her shoulders were drawn too tight, her lips pressed into a thin line that spoke of more than just regret over her morning outburst.

"You seem to have more on you mind." I observed.

She shook her head quickly, still not meeting my eyes. The morning light filtering through the tinted windows cast shadows across her face, highlighting the minute tremor in her jaw. I recognized that look — the same one she wore whenever Kayla received special treatment from Mother, whenever the household twisted itself into knots to accommodate my sister's every whim.

I sighed, loosening my tie slightly. A part of me wanted to reach out, to smooth away that wounded expression she was trying so hard to hide. But I steeled myself, hardening my voice instead. "I believe you have heard about Kayla's pregnancy. Her situation is... delicate. The doctors are concerned about her stability." I watched her reaction carefully, noting how her fingers twisted together at the mention of my sister. "If anything were to happen because of stress or agitation, you understand the position that would put you in."

Her amber eyes finally flickered up to meet mine, widening slightly. "I didn't know about that."

"Mother brought in a specialist from Groveport for Kayla." I paused, choosing my next words deliberately. "While he's here, he could look at your issue. Run some tests, maybe try a new treatment approach. The blocked tubes might be fixable with the right surgical intervention."

"No." The word came out sharp and immediate. Maeve's hands clenched tighter in her lap. "I mean... there's no need. We both know I can't..." She trailed off, her amber eyes flicking to the partition—checking its seal—before dropping again. "Isn't it better this way? You don't have to worry about... consequences."

My fingers twitched at her words, a visceral memory of the raw intimacy we once shared rising unbidden. The freedom of taking her without barriers had been intoxicating, but the bitter tang of what Mother was scheming turned that pleasure sour. Maeve had no inkling of how her perceived flaw would be dissected and judged by others.

A muscle jerked involuntarily in my jaw.

"Mother will start looking for suitable matches for us after Kayla's wedding." I said, striving for a nonchalant tone, though every syllable felt like shards of glass. "Your... condition... could be an issue."

The color drained from Maeve's face. Her lips parted slightly, and for a heartbeat, I caught something in her expression that made my blood run cold — a flash of desperate hope, swiftly masked but undeniable.

My chest constricted painfully as I read the truth in that fleeting look. Of course. Of course she would see an arranged marriage as her salvation, a chance to finally slip through my fingers. How long had she been secretly praying for something like this? A legitimate reason to sever our bond, to build a life where she would no longer have to endure my touch, my possession, my love...

The rage that surged through me was blinding. Before she could utter a word, I seized her chin, forcing her to face me. Her amber eyes went wide with fear as I crashed my lips against hers, punishing, claiming. She tried to pull back, but my other hand found its way around her neck, fingers exerting a force, holding her in place.

I kissed her like I wanted to devour her, to brand myself into her very being until she forgot any notion of escape. Her hands feebly pushed at my chest, but I only tightened my grip, forcing her to accept the brutal possession of my mouth. When she gasped, I deepened the kiss, swallowing her soft whimper of protest.

When I finally pulled back, she was trembling, her lips bruised from my assault, her breathing ragged. A strand of hair had come loose from behind her ear, curling against her flushed cheek. The sight of her like this—marked, conquered—fed the possessive beast that roared within my chest.

I leaned in close, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Let me make something very clear, sweetheart." My tongue flicked out to taste the sensitive skin just below her earlobe, feeling her shudder against me.

"Marriage is just paperwork. Two names on a document. Whoever they choose for you, whatever life they try to build for you..." I pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her pulse point, feeling her frantic heartbeat against my lips. "You'll still come to my bed. You'll still be mine. FOREVER."