Chapter seven

Janelle’s POV

The dead don’t hunt the living - the living hunt the living. Fun fact, a hunter can always turn prey. But speaking of prey… What if I just got married to a predator?

I come out of the massive bathroom, big enough to fit in a queen-sized bed with a towel wrapped around my head. I look at the large room in front of me and I almost feel intimidated. My room is large with cream-coloured high walls and bright silver chandeliers hanging gracefully from the intimidating ceiling.

Truce had it furnished with everything I need. From heels and dresses to undies. I had barely needed to pack anything from home except myself, some old books, and some necessaries I wanted to hang on to.

I head for the walk-in closet. I stand for a minute or two thinking of what to wear, cause at the moment, making a choice might be impossible. The wardrobe is furnished with really pretty dresses, and they just have to all be my style! How did he know?

I laugh at my stupidity and pick a short purple dress and black boots.

I get dressed quickly and start to style my hair. I want to leave it with just a little curls, since I have a few appointments with patients at the hospital today, but for now, I need to meet Truce first.

I need to know what next. First I think this whole marriage thing is insane, and I need to know why it happened in the first place. I had been too desperate earlier to ask questions, but now I can.

I finish curling my hair and start to apply my make-up. When I’m doing my make-up, I appy just a little. Just some mascara, lip gloss and a bit of concealer.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Satisfied with my look, I grab a black Zara purse and head out of the room. It’s only yesterday since I got married but it seems like a year already.

I open my door and peek outside. The house is huge and I’m rest assured that I won’t be able to find my way around for a few days, without assistant.

I want to meet Truce, who I haven’t seen since after our wedding, but no one is in sight, and I don’t have the slightest idea where his room is.

I step out of my room and shut the door behind me. It’s an automatic door, so the locks gets activated immediately. One of the maid had given me the passcode yesterday when I was taken to the room. I’m bad at remembering numbers and I hope I don’t forget the code.

I start to walk down the large hallway with several doors, looking for an elevator or stairs at least.

I see the elevator at the end of the hallway and I smile triumphantly. I type in the first floor and get in. When the elevator door reopens minutes later, I step out and I’m in for another round of admiration. This house is so fucken unique and beautiful. I should give Truce a thumbs up. Was he trying to replicate Villa Leopolda or something?

I walk past the large cream-coloured sitting room with dark-chocolate couches, arranged in a semi-circle. Two huge silver chandeliers hang from the ceiling and a unique looking glass table sits in the centre of the couches. Dark-chocolate curtains cover the huge windows and everywhere looks clean, homey, and perfect.

I shake my head in awe and make to turn towards a door I guess should lead to the kitchen, but instead, I bump into someone hard. I let out a low scream as my boots give way and I fall backwards.

A strong hand wraps around my waist and tugs with a force that steals the breath from my lungs.

My hair flies behind me in a symphony of chaos, but my vision still zeros in on one person holding me effortlessly with one hand, like I weigh less than a piece of paper.

Truce.

People’s eyes are usually bright with emotions, any type. Even grief makes them shine with tears, unsaid words, and irrevocable regrets.

Truce’s however, are dim as a dark green quiet and eerie forest. If I wasn’t staring straight at him, I’d think he’s a creature of the wilderness.

A predator.

A monster, maybe.

His face is sharp, angular - the type that demands undivided attention, as if he were created for the purpose of luring people into a careful-crafted trap with his beauty.

There’s this masculine quality to his physique that can’t be hidden by the black baggy and white sleveless top he’s wearing. His dark-brown hair is packed in a low bun, defining his features more.

I feel my heart racing and I can barely take in proper air. Relax, Jane! He’s just a man. Maybe not an ordinary one, hahaha.

Truce’s arm muscles bulge from the material of my dress with no hint of discomfort, as if he was born with cold blood. The arm he’s currently holding my waist with and stopping my fall is taut, but there’s no sign of exertion whatsoever.

Effortless. That’s the word to be used for him.

His whole demenor drips with utter ease. It’s too cool… too blank, so he appears statue-like and a bit bored even.

He pulls me up. “You should be more careful.” His deep voice sounds laced with honey, but it’s actually fogged with black smoke.

It has to do with how the words vibrate from his vocal cords before rippling in the space between us with the lethality of poison.

Also, I love, love his British accent.

I take a deep breath and look away. Be careful. He was literally standing behind me? I mean this room is big enough to fit in a hundred.

When I turn to him again, he’s staring and our gaze lock, he’s has a deadly confidence that locks my shaking muscles. For some reason, it feels as if I shouldn’t breathe the wrong way or else I’d get punished.

The little light I had seen in his eyes at the wedding yesterday, is fully gone, not even a glimpse stayed. At the moment, all I can see is a shadowy version from earlier. Muted, dull, and absolutely lifeless.

I take in a deep breath. Spending five years with this man might not be as easy as I had thought.

“Follow me,” he orders and turns towards the door I had been heading for earlier.

For some strange reason, I don’t feel the will to resist.