Vivyka picked up Matt's cigarette from the floor and put it out in the ashtray on the bedside table. She tied him up as quickly as she could, straining to move his large body so that he was sitting on the hardwood floor against the bed, with his hands tied behind his back to one of the built-in bedposts. Then she took out the bolt and wrapped his leg with bandages she found in the bathroom. She assumed the healing kit came with the apartment—he had too much of an ego to ever think he might need anything like that.

Finally, she stood back and stared at him for a few minutes, taking in the sight of him. He was even more beautiful than she remembered, and that old longing stirred in her. She inwardly groaned at herself as she pushed the stupid feelings away and focused on her hatred for him instead. She took a deep breath, then walked over and slapped him as hard as she could across the face.

He woke up, glanced at her, and then looked down at his wounded leg.

“Yeah, unfortunate, but I did warn you. And…” She pulled a small dagger out of her boot and caressed his thickly muscled chest with its tip. She struggled with desire for a moment. “You were a bad boy,” she told him, keeping her voice hard, “so I don’t have to keep my promise. But we’ll get to that later.”

She took a step back and put the blade away. “What’s so funny?” she asked when he suddenly chuckled.

“It’s just ironic,” he mused. “I’ve fought my share of monsters and skilled fighters in my life, but it’s a woman bent on revenge that has me beat—and you, of all people.” He laughed again. “It’s a bit funny.”

“Go me,” she said flatly.

He nodded once. “So, you’ve got me tied up. What now?” he asked nonchalantly. He had always had an air about him, as if he owned the place and everyone in it, no matter where he was. Even now, while he was at her mercy, he still looked like he was in control, like everything was going according to his plan. It really irritated her.

She looked at him for a moment, contemplating what to do. What would really get to him? What would wipe the smug expression off his face?

She smiled a little as she thought of something.

Kneeling beside him, she started running her hand over his body and shook her head. “You know, it’s really a shame that something so gorgeous on the outside has to be so vile on the inside.”

Her other hand moved into his hair. She grabbed a fistful and jerked his head back, then kissed him, hard and angry. He immediately opened to her, matching her passion. An electric thrill went through her at the feel of him, his taste, the memory of how much she had enjoyed his touch… at least this kind.

The hand she had on his chest moved down and undid his pants. Slipping inside, she grabbed a handful of him, feeling the proof of his desire. She bit his bottom lip and tugged it before pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. “Guess you still want me,” she said as she stroked him.

“No shit,” he murmured.

She smirked and licked his lips, then trailed her tongue along his throat, where she paused to bite him. He sighed, liking it as he always had. She kissed her way down his chest and licked his stomach. Then her mouth moved lower until it replaced her hand, and he gave a low groan.

Then, just a minute later, she abruptly stopped, stood up, and walked away.

He pulled on the rope that bound his wrists, but it didn’t budge. “Viv,” he growled.

She turned around and cocked a dark brow. “Wanting something?”

His blue eyes were smoldering and intense. He hesitated, obviously not wanting to say the words, but she knew he wanted her touch too much to hold out. In truth, she felt the same, but she wouldn’t show him that.

“Say it,” she demanded.

He held her gaze and said the words quietly, but very clearly. “I want you.”

She came to crouch over him and leaned close. “Enough to beg?” she purred. Her tongue flicked his earlobe, and she tugged it gently with her teeth.

“You want me, too,” he coaxed.

She had forgotten how silky and seductive his voice could be. She really wanted to give in, to give them both what they wanted. Why not? she thought. She would kill him anyway—why not make use of him first? She wanted him, longed for him just as she always had. And yet she wanted so much to just cause him pain. Damn him and his affect on her, always pulling her in two directions.

He leaned his head forward to kiss and nip at her neck. She closed her eyes, her will swaying. “What would it hurt?” he whispered, speaking her thoughts. “Take what you want, Viv.”

No, she couldn’t. If she gave into him she would just lose herself, she had always gotten lost in him. With serious effort, she kept control of herself and moved until her lips were just an inch from his. When he tried to kiss her she leaned her head back and met his heated gaze. “Still such an arrogant bastard. But yes, I do want you, Mathias,” she said as she redid his pants and smiled. “I want you to suffer.”

His growl was low and fierce.

She laughed at him as she went to the dresser, turning her back on him and pushing her own desire away the best she could before he saw too much in her eyes. She made herself think about how horrible he had been to her, about how horrible he would be to Sera and she felt the hate rise up again. She grabbed a cigarette from his silver case, then turned and asked, “Do you want one?”

He glared at her.

“Of course you do.” She lit a second cigarette and walked back to him. “Where do you want it?” she asked with mock sweetness. She took a drag. “How about here?” She put the burning end against his chest. He made no sound and kept his face neutral as he stared menacingly at her, not showing the pain it caused. “Beautiful and tough.” She smirked, then put the other end of the cigarette between his lips and walked away. She took a drag of her own and exhaled slowly. “So… now that we know how loyal you are.”

“I have no one to be loyal to,” he ground out.

“Sera loves you, and you don’t care about her at all.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t that sound familiar? Can you think of who I mean?”

He didn’t answer.

“Let me tell you—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he cut in, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

She took his cigarette, then backhanded him as hard as she could. “You’ll look at me when I’m talking to you. And this time, Mathias, you’re gonna shut up and listen. Because this time, you are the one who isn’t allowed to leave.”

__________

January 29, 1299

Seaport

Mathias would just take off sometimes—just leave without telling her, without even hinting at it. Sometimes he would be gone for a week, and she would start wondering if he was coming back at all. Today was he fifth day of his latest disappearance, and Vivyka sighed as she woke up to find his empty pillow.

Sometimes she would be sad and miss him. Sometimes she would be angry and hate him, promising herself that she was telling him to go to hell when he got back. Today, it was the latter. She had dealt with his shit for seven months now. Enough was enough.

Why had she even stayed for so long? She knew she was just his pet, there for him to play with or cast aside depending on his mood. Well, she wasn’t going to be his toy anymore. This time she was really leaving him. It was over.

In a sudden fit of rage, she picked up his pillow and threw it at the wall. He was supposed to be here, damn it! He was supposed to care, to love her like she loved him. And yet she hated him. But more than that, she hated herself. She hated her own weakness for him. She hated that no matter what he did, or how mad she got, she would still melt at the sight of him. But no more—this time she would be strong.

With that thought, she got up, put his pillow back, and dressed. Then she walked across town to a man who lived by the docks. There was a storage shed behind his house that he had made into a small apartment. She had noticed the for rent sign a few days ago. The docks were seedy and dirty, and they were where the most crime happened, but it was better than staying with Mathias.

She met with the landlord, and it went well until he asked that one question: “Wait, aren’t you Mathias’s girl?”

She sighed. “Not anymore.”

“He let you go?”

She swallowed. “Yes,” she lied. Well, maybe it wasn’t a lie—maybe he really wouldn’t come back this time.

“I don’t know,” the man said. “People say it’s best not to mess with him. I’ve heard some stories.”

“You can’t believe gossip,” she told him lightly. When he still looked hesitant, she added, “Come on, please, I just… he doesn’t want me anymore.” He didn’t look convinced, so she tried another tactic. “The only way he’s gonna be upset with you is if he comes home and I’m still living in his apartment. Then I’d have to tell him that you’re the reason I couldn’t get out of his hair.”

He studied her for a moment, considering. Finally, he sighed. “Okay, but he better not come down on me if he doesn’t like it.”

She smiled. “Even if he didn’t like it, it’d be my fault, not yours, so you’re fine.”

He nodded. “Okay. Here’s the key.” He pulled it out of his pocket.

“Thanks,” she said brightly, and traded him a week’s rent money for it.

There was no time to check out her new home though since she was already late for work, so she thanked the man again and headed for Seaside Tavern with a smile, feeling proud of herself.

But after a few hours, a knot of fear began to form in her stomach, making her feel nauseated. She was used to the feeling, especially when things were going well, because she knew the bubble would burst eventually. She never knew when it would happen—when she would mess up somehow and make Mathias mad—and when she made him mad, he made sure she hurt for it. She always thought that if she could just manage to be better, if she could just stop messing up, things would be perfect, because most of the time he was in a good mood and everything was wonderful. But that didn’t matter anymore.

The knot grew tighter, and her breathing grew shallow as she climbed the stairs to his apartment after work. Even tighter when she gathered her things and shoved them into a bag. She moved as quickly as possible, growing more terrified by the minute that he would suddenly appear in the doorway and see her trying to leave. She reasoned that maybe if he came home to an empty place with all her things gone, she would be out of sight and out of mind. He wouldn’t come after her. Surely she wouldn’t be worth the effort.

Still, she didn’t feel any relief as she stepped outside with her bag slung over her shoulder. She didn’t feel any as she walked down the street, her pace hurried, continuously looking back. It wasn’t until she got inside her shack and locked the door that she felt some reprieve from her fear.

But she was too wound up to sleep, so she changed for bed, lit a cigarette, grabbed the book she was currently reading, and lay down on the hard bed. It was a romance novel, as always.

Every one she read was basically the same story. They were about a big strong man who was aggressive and fierce. The woman would usually be captured by him, often put in chains and treated horribly. But then he would fall in love with her, usually after he almost lost her. He would realize that she meant the world to him, that he couldn’t stand to be away from her. Then he would hold her face in his hands and kiss her gently. He would adore her and treat her with tender affection. And, of course, they would live happily ever after.

At some point, just after the hero in her story fell in love with the heroine, Vivyka fell asleep and dreamt of those people being her and Mathias. She dreamt of him looking at her with love in his eyes and saying sweet things, telling her how she meant everything to him and how he couldn’t live without her. It was a dream she had often.

__________

She woke up when the sun peeked through the worn brown curtains of the one small window. She stared up at the plank ceiling for a moment, sighing at the remnants of her dream and let a particularly nice part play through her mind. She tried to ignore the ache in her back. She was used to the best things now, including a soft, comfortable bed—the opposite of this one.

Suddenly she saw something out of the corner of her eye and bolted upright with a gasp. Her heart started pounding in terror as she found Mathias near the front door, leaning back against the wall, smoking a cigarette.

He tossed a key onto the floor. The landlord must have given it to him, she thought, but then she noticed the small amount of blood on his hand as well as on the key. She felt horrible as she thought of the poor guy, of how she had promised it would be fine.

Mathias wiped his hand on the curtian, then took the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled some smoke. “My place suddenly not good enough for you, Viv?” he asked, his voice deadly calm.

She only managed to shake her head.

“Trying to leave me?”

She didn’t answer.

“Come here,” he ordered quietly.

She didn’t hesitate—that would just get her into more trouble. She went to him, her thin red nightgown falling to her knees as she took a few steps across the room and stopped in front of him. She shivered and reminded herself to breathe.

He grabbed her chin between his thumb and finger and lifted her face up, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t want to be with me anymore?”

“I do,” she answered in a whisper. “I just…” She thought quickly. “It’s just that you’ve been leaving a lot lately and I thought that maybe you’d like some space. I didn’t wanna always be there, bothering you. This way you don’t have to be around me unless you wanna be.” She was happy with how convincing she sounded.

He just looked at her for a moment as he took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly. She forced herself to keep breathing; if she held her breath it would give away her lie. She tried to look innocent and was pretty sure she pulled it off.

He finally leaned his head down and kissed her. It was hard and rough, but that was normal. She slid her hands up and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving back eagerly. He believed her. She could have cried in relief, but instead she put her passion into her ever-constant desire for him.

He let go of her chin and grabbed her waist, pulling her more firmly against his body. But a second later she broke the kiss and cried out as the hot end of his cigarette burnt through her nightgown and into the skin of her lower back. He put it out on her and then dropped it. He grabbed her throat in one hand and squeezed. “What do I really hate, Viv?” he asked fiercely, his eyes now hard and cold.

She fought against tears, from the stinging in her back and from the fear of what was coming. “Lying to you,” she answered in a small voice when his hand loosened so she could get the words out.

“You know how much that pisses me off, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“So is that what you want? You want to make me mad? You want me to hurt you?”

“No, I’m sorry. Please, I didn’t mean—”

He shoved her back a step as he let her go, then swung. The back of his fist hit her cheek and she fell with the force of it. He didn’t wait for her to get back up—he grabbed her hair, dragged her to her feet, and hit her again.

Finally, when he was through, when the last blow knocked her to the floor, she stayed down. She knew it was over because he lit a cigarette. She couldn’t stop her tears, but she made sure she was silent and hid her face against the hardwood floor, under her messy hair.

When he was done smoking, he flicked his cigarette at her. It singed a little of her hair before she got it off and put it out. “Get up,” he demanded. She did, drying her wet cheeks before facing him. “So, are you coming home?”

“Yes,” she answered quietly.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

He grabbed her arm, but didn’t squeeze; he just pulled her closer. She looked up into his blue eyes. They weren’t icy now—they were heated, as they always were afterwards. “What do you want, Viv?” he asked, his voice warm and smooth now.

She put her hands on his chest and caressed him. “You.”

“Say it.”

“I want you,” she breathed.

“Good.” He grabbed two handfuls of her nightgown and tore it all the way down the middle. She shrugged out of it and let it fall to the floor, then undid his pants with hands that were still shaking. He didn’t bother with the small bed; instead he picked her up and turned with her, shoving her against the wall.

Afterwards, he kept his head buried in her neck and just stayed there for a minute. She always cherished that minute and kept her arms tightly around him, resting her head against his and closing her eyes. It was the only time she was ever able to hold him.

When he pushed on her, she got down, but before letting him go completely she stole another kiss. He gave her bottom a smack, but it wasn’t hard. His anger was gone now—easy come, easy go. His moods were always like that, changing faster than the wind.

He redid his pants, then lit two cigarettes and handed her one. “Get dressed,” he said. While she did as she was told, he looked around casually. “What’s this?”

“A book.”

“Obviously,” he replied as he picked it up and studied the picture on the first page. It was a drawing of a couple, half-dressed and in a very sexual pose. “Why read about stuff you have for real?”

“I don’t,” she mumbled before she could catch herself.

He glanced over at her and raised a brow. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you get plenty of this,” he said, turning the picture to show her.

She sat down and started pulling on her boots. She couldn’t help smiling a little. “It’s not just about sex,” she told him around the cigarette between her lips. “It’s a love story.”

“Okay,” he said dismissively as he tossed the book aside.

She took the cigarette out of her mouth and grabbed her bag as she stood. “Have you…” She knew she probably shouldn’t ask, but she wanted to know. She just hoped the question wouldn’t upset him. “Have you ever been in love?”

He scoffed. “I’m not weak.”

She nodded, stupidly feeling disappointment. What had she expected him to say—Yes, I’m madly in love with you, Viv? She sighed unconsciously.

“What?”

She shook her head as she picked up her book. “Nothing.”

He grabbed it out of her hand and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and fell behind an old wobbly dresser. “You don’t need that shit,” he told her.

She nodded.

“You know, sometimes I don’t get you. I give you my time and attention, I buy you any damn thing you want, I give you my protection, I let you live in my apartment instead of some disgusting dump like this…” He shook his head. “But somehow that’s just not good enough for you.”

“Yes, it is,” she said quickly. She set her bag down, then put out her cigarette and went to him. She put her hands on his bare stomach, under his open jacket, and kissed his exposed chest. “All I want is you, I swear.”

“So much that you were leaving me?”

She sighed and leaned her forehead against him. “I was mad at you. You keep leaving, and I hate it when you go away. I hate not knowing if you’re coming back,” she said softly. “I… I miss you.”

He grabbed her chin and made her look up at him. To her relief, he looked amused. “If I wasn’t planning on returning, I would have taken you with me,” he told her matter-of-factly. “So next time, you better be there when I get back.”

She smiled up at him, happy that she meant that much to him. “I will,” she promised, and reached up to kiss him.

He held her to him and kissed her deeply for a long moment. When he pulled back, she felt a little dizzy. She sighed. This man had the most ridiculous effect on her—especially when he would say something unexpectedly nice and smile, showing his dimples, and give her that look, the one that said she was his—as he did now. Every time her heart fluttered and swelled, and everything else was forgotten.