RAFAELO BROUGHT his hand to his head, tracing the ridges of his injury and recalling the exact moment her expression had shifted from one of awe, to one of scorn. He replayed the events in his mind and he could not find an explanation for what had occurred, other than the fact that she must have felt offended by his direct stare and thus had decided to teach him a lesson—put him in his place, where he belonged.
How could someone so beautiful be so vile?
He was shocked by his own reaction to her.
He’d never in his life reacted to a woman so instantly, so potently. It was like her eyes had spoken to his very soul.
He’d seen beautiful women in his life. But he’d never felt drawn to another as he’d felt to her, his being oriented to her in such a foreign way as if her presence was a balm to his soul.
In one isolated moment, so fleeting yet so infinite, she’d provoked such contradicting emotions within him.
His essence had felt at peace, while his body had hummed with excitement.
As he laid in his bunk bed at night, exhausted and sore, he couldn’t help but wonder, why her?
Why had his interest awoken in someone who was clearly all wrong for him—not only due to their current circumstances, but also their inclinations?
She was the master’s wife. And if he were to believe the rumors he’d heard since, she was even worse than el señor, her mercurial moods infamous among the slaves and all the workers.
Yet for one moment, time had stood still.
He’d looked at her. She’d looked back. And a current of awareness had passed through them.
He stared at the darkness surrounding him, as he tried to mute the sounds of people snoring around him, the noises weighing heavily on him as his mind transformed them into a multitude of sensations—all uncomfortable for they spoke of the hopelessness of his situation.
But even as he felt trapped in this hell, his rebellious mind flew for him, still in search of her.
It grasped onto that moment, studying it from all angles as if he could glean more information from it—about her, about himself, about everything that he felt and could not stop feeling.
All his life, his interest in the opposite sex had laid dormant, only to be awoken like this, savagely and against his will, towards someone he was meant to despise for everything she represented.
He supposed half of his anger came from the fact that he’d been so repressed before, both of his own doing and because of his circumstances.
After his feud with his brother, he’d simply stopped caring about the outside world, and to an extent, about himself.
He’d shut himself away from society, going through life like a ghost of his former self.
Rafaelo supposed his guilt had played a big part in that though, and subsequently his depression and mental health issues had taken a toll on his will to interact with the outside world.
For a time, he’d simply been content living in his own head, all by himself.
There had been people who’d made his life better—or tried to.
His mother, though he still had not forgiven her, had stuck by his side even in his darkest hours. She’d taken his diagnosis in stride and had resolved to help him through it despite the fact that it had been a blow, both to her heart and her reputation. To his greatest surprise, she hadn’t minded either as she’d patiently waited for him to let her in.
And he hadn’t.
There had also been his steadfast friend—curiouscat. The woman he’d been talking to for years, who’d become his confidante. He still had questions about her and what had happened on that fateful day when she’d stood him up, especially since she’d disappeared without a trace afterwards.
Despite never meeting her in person, he had to admit to himself that she’d been his refuge in his battle with himself—the only person with whom he could be real with. Maybe that was why he still could not get over the betrayal.
Then there’d also been Sisi, someone he’d met unexpectedly but with whom he’d forged a precious friendship.
Yet in all his twenty-three years of life, he’d never once experienced such an all-encompassing feeling of awe at meeting someone. It had been something stronger than lust, though he’d found her to be the most attractive woman he’d ever seen.
No, it had been something ineffable that had consumed him in the span of one-second more than he’d ever experienced in his entire life.
And then she’d struck him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, as he pushed against the feeling of disappointment that suffused him.
It wasn’t normal to feel this way about someone he didn’t know, someone he’d never even spoken to. But he found he couldn’t control himself.
Shifting in bed, he did his best to go to sleep, knowing the following day would bring more harrowing work. After all, why should he waste precious time thinking of someone who thought him little more than dirt on her shoes?
Hugging the light blanket he’d been given to his chest, he tried to block all thoughts as he sought the relief only sleep would offer.
Yet it was all… in vain.
His dreams proved to be more treacherous than his waking moments as he found himself back with Armand—back to being degraded and made to feel less than a human. Back to being… abused.
Rafaelo had a few recollections of the rapes he’d been subjugated to—a small mercy—but those snippets of his past were enough to clamor in his mind, driving him crazy with a special type of inner pain for which there was simply no cure. He remembered the breeze as it had brushed against his skin. Armand’s icy fingers as they dug into his flesh… Everything was cold. So, so very cold.
And at the end of it all, there was her arctic stare.
Rafaelo wished for warmth.
As he struggled with his nightmares, all he wished for was a little warmth to soothe his cold, cold soul. A warm embrace. A place to lay his head and simply… be.
He didn’t know if he managed to get a few hours of decent sleep when it was time to wake up the following day. Still trapped in his head, he walked slowly as everyone made a queue to the showers before they were sent off to work at the temple.
“You. You’re working in the back today,” a guard told him in Spanish, grabbing him and a few other men, ushering them to the back of the temple where some of the facade had fallen off. There were scaffolds already in place and two men were working on restoring the shape of the building.
Rafaelo didn’t protest, simply doing as he was told. He wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation when he was still warring with himself.
In total, about twenty people were ordered to work on the outer side of the temple, and they soon found a rhythm as they coordinated their movements.
“I’m Jackson,” a man around his age told him as he came by his side.
“Rafaelo.” He nodded in reply.
“I haven’t seen you around here.”
“I came a few days ago.”
“Lucky,” the man whistled. “I’ve been here for a month,” he sighed.
They both went about preparing the clay to repair the facade, making small talk in the meanwhile.
Rafaelo learned that Jackson was from a poor family in Texas and he’d borrowed a lot of money from a cartel. When he’d been unable to pay, he’d been forced to work at the hacienda until his debt was paid in full.
“And how long is that?”
“A decade. If I’m lucky,” he said, and pursed his lips.
That promptly ended their discussion as the man turned taciturn.
Rafaelo could understand where he was coming from. At the same time, he knew he was not about to waste his life at the hacienda. One way or another, he had to find a way out.
But first, he needed to study his surroundings and get as much information as possible. More than anything, he needed to be on his best behavior, so to not arouse suspicion from the guards.
Whereas, with Armand he’d been too drugged to function normally most of the time, at least now he was at full mental capacity. He was still weak, and the drugs still held a certain grip on him, but he could think clearly for the first time in too long.
As such, he knew he needed to take it slow, so he could recover first while planning his escape. And getting more friendly with the other slaves was one of the first items on his list, since they had the information he required.
He’d already gotten a summary about how the hacienda operated and the fact that el señor was more or less a saintly authority. His wife was as feared as she was admired by people. He hadn’t been able to figure out yet how they had such sway over people. But all things in due time.
According to his calculations, he was somewhere close to the coast in the northeastern part of Mexico. That meant the closest border was with Texas.
The sun was scorching, sweat beaded over his forehead as he continued to work. He wasn’t the only one affected by the heat, and water was rationed for everyone.
When he’d wished for heat, he certainly hadn’t meant that.
Even his thoughts became foggy as he strained to withstand the dehydration.
Luckily, the lunch break was soon announced, and everyone made a quick queue to where food and drink were being served.
Rafaelo was enraptured by the sandwich in front of him and the bottle of water that he tried to ration as best as he could. He found a corner that was safe from the battering sun and sat down, making himself comfortable. He barely noted the flash of silk that appeared in his field of view. But as he did a double take, his eyes widened in shock as he spotted her.
She was wearing a purple silky dress that flowed down her body, her hair bound atop her head as a few curls slipped down her beautiful face. Her sun-kissed skin glowed, her light freckles more evident in natural lighting than they’d been in the enclosed space of the banquet room the other day.
And just like that, Rafaelo realized it hadn’t been his erroneous perception at the time.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. So much so, even the word beautiful could do her no justice.
Just like he stared in awe at her, so did everyone else. All the men seemed to be in her thrall as they ate her up with their eyes.
But of course they would, Rafaelo thought as a scowl pulled at his lips. The slaves were eighty percent males, and he could bet that none of them had been with a woman in a long time.
The female slaves he’d seen around had been few, and they were segregated from the men. What had Charles said? That all the women belonged to the master so no one could touch them.
To see someone so elegant, so beautiful, was probably the highlight of these men’s days.
She walked almost as if she floated on the ground, her steps as graceful as the rest of her. Another girl trailed behind her, her head lowered to the ground as if she didn’t even dare look around.
They both seemed similar in age—no older than twenty.
But there was a mountain of difference in their countenances. Whereas, the mistress of the hacienda was overflowing with confidence—her spine straight, her head held high—the other girl seemed like a timid mouse, trying to blend into the background.
What was more surprising than anything, was that she stopped in front of Jackson, offering him a bag of extra food and water.
She was talking. Her lips were moving, tipping up as she smiled down at the young man.
Rafaelo stared at the display, trying to make sense of what was happening.
Why was she…?
Out of nowhere, her hand reached out and touched Jackson’s cheek, lingering there for a moment as she leaned in to whisper something into his ear.
Rafaelo swallowed hard, the sight opening a chasm in his heart that he could not explain, nor understand. He could only stare at their proximity, his blood rushing to his head, as foreign pain assailed him.
His mouth set in a grim line, he wrenched his gaze away from them.
What did he care about her anyway? She could show favor to whoever she wanted. It wasn’t as if he knew her or had any connection to her aside from that one unfortunate encounter, when she’d thrown the plate at him.
Taking a bite off his sandwich, he munched slowly, annoyed to find the food tasteless. The water, too, allayed none of his thirst, so his mood continued to plummet.
He spent a few moments simply looking at the ground, before curiosity got the best of him and he half-turned his head, so that he could catch another glimpse.
She was still there, chatting with Jackson and laughing at something he’d said.
Rafaelo gritted his teeth.
Why was she even here? What business did she have with her husband’s slaves? Surely, going by the way she’d behaved towards him, she seemed to abhor those lower than her. So why the hell was she making sweet eyes at Jackson?
He took a bit off his sandwich, his eyes still on the duo as he chewed with disgust.
He couldn’t hear anything of what they were saying, but he could imagine how the young man was trying to impress her, not only because she was the mistress of this place, but also because she was a stunning woman.
She spoke again, and Rafaelo watched helplessly how her lips moved with each word.
He wondered what her voice would sound like.
He liked to believe it would be screechy and annoying, the opposite of her appearance—anything to lessen this morbid interest he’d seemed to develop of her.
Narrowing his eyes, he was ashamed to admit that he was trying to read her lips to see what she was saying, yet he failed miserably as his brain was trying to mislead him with the most absurd scenarios.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
It wasn’t the first time he asked himself that, but it sure as hell was the first time he truly meant it.
She’s the enemy, he told himself. He couldn’t fall for a pretty face when he’d experienced her cruelty first hand.
For God’s sake, he’s gone through life without once noticing a woman—not like that anyway—and here he was, enslaved and with a growing obsession towards a viper.
He needed to get a grip on himself.
She spent a few more minutes chatting with Jackson before she turned her attention to the other slaves, walking around and looking at them with disgust.
And there it was—her true face.
Rafaelo shook his head in something akin to disappointment.
Not worth it, he nodded to himself as he turned his attention once more to his sandwich. But he could still spot movement from the corner of his eye.
The light-haired woman she’d come with went to the supply table, speaking with a guard and persuading him to bring more water. The mistress, however, was walking alongside the temple a good distance away, seemingly focused on studying its features.
A loud sound cracked in the air, and Rafaelo’s head whipped to the side in time to see one of the beams supporting the scaffolding wobble. The nets holding it together were loose, and for a moment it simply wavered in the air.
His eyes widened as he looked between the beam and her. She was so close to it, she would undoubtedly be hit if it fell.
Another snap and one of the nets broke away.
Rafaelo didn’t even think. He just acted.
Dumping his food to the ground, he dashed in her direction, his mind freezing on him as he realized the precariousness of the situation.
“Watch out,” he shouted.
She hadn’t even realized what was happening, still gazing upon the pyramid with an inscrutable expression on her face.
It was only when shouts erupted in the air, drowned out by the thumping of his feet, that she turned around, her pretty mouth forming an o as her eyes connected with his.
She was surprised to see him, but she was even more surprised when he tackled her to the ground, putting as much distance between them and the scaffold as a deafening sound pierced the air.
The beam fell, dust simmering in the atmosphere from the force of its impact.
They barely made it out of its radius.
Both were breathing hard and Rafaelo realized he was pining her to the ground, his entire weight on her. His face was in the crook of her shoulder, his body tantalizingly close to hers. So close he could feel her heartbeat, the speed of her pulse, a consequence of her narrow escape with death.
Adrenaline surged through his veins as he attempted to control himself.
He felt the contours of her body under his, the softness of her flesh and the way her breasts brushed against his chest. And then there was her scent.
Fuck, but her smell intoxicated him as he took a deep breath.
Not even the residue of dust that assailed his airways could make him ignore the sweetness emanating from her—sweetness that belied everything he knew of her.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he leaned back to watch her.
Her eyes fluttered open, widening as she stared at him.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t say one word as she blinked repeatedly, almost as if she couldn’t believe he was on top of her, touching her.
“Are you hurt?” he repeated, this time bringing his hand to her face to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Slowly, she shook her head, her lips trembling.
Her eyes were wide with wonder, watching him.
He swallowed hard as he returned her stare.
God, but up close she was even more beautiful.
He noted her freckles and the way they spattered across her face, lined up like a constellation. Yet it was her eyes that held him captive. The day before, he’d thought them brown. Now, they were a hazel shade that bordered on green, one lighter than the other.
Just like the day before, one moment stretched across an eternity, the same thread of electricity wounding around them and pulling them tighter together.
His heart was beating something wild in his chest, adrenaline be damned. It was an abnormal beat that scared him just as it excited him, their proximity fueling his most ludicrous dreams.
And there he was again, caught in a trance as he looked at her almost as if he could not get his fill of her. He devoured her with his gaze, and he could swear she devoured him back.
She tentatively reached out with her hand, her palm curving along his jaw as she licked her lips, her eyes glistening—with unshed tears?
Rafaelo frowned.
Yet he had no time to ponder about it, when strong arms wrenched him off of her, pulling him back.
Everyone was suddenly at her side, fussing over her as he was being dragged by the guards back to the barracks.
He kept staring at her as the blonde girl jumped in her arms, dusting her dress and demanding to know if she was alright.
He kept staring even as more people came, the guards barking orders and declaring whoever had set the scaffolding would be punished.
He just kept… staring.
All in the hopes that she would turn his way, give him at least a thank you if not a nod of acknowledgement. He wanted at least something, damn it!
So even as he was being forcibly removed from the premises, even as the distance between them grew, he kept staring.
But never once did she look his way.
