Prologue~

*Before reading, please be aware that mentions of past trauma and abuse will be mentioned and depicted*

Solitude was a cherished gift to some, a horrid reality to others and to a few it was a mix of relief and angst all at once, Abir fell into the category of the few, he enjoyed his moments alone, for the most part, at least. He spent his time in ice baths that would sting his body with pain that refreshed his skin but cut old wounds with a biting sharpness, other times he’d sit on the window sill with a warm cup of cocoa between his hands yearning for the warmth of company he had long left behind.

He supposed that was why he’d agreed to the marriage his Grandfather begged him for without much of a fight. All he knew of the woman was that her own Grandfather had passed a month after her husband, his dying wish was to see her safe and protected by none other than his best friend’s Grandson, though he didn’t pretend to understand why anyone would see him fit for the role, he had accepted, signed his name on a dotted line and pictured her doing the same.

At first, he wasn’t too happy about the prospect of living with a woman he’d never met before, he was away from civilisation, guarded by the fiercest animals and the only way out was a boat that had seen better days, and if her personality didn’t fit with his their days together would be agonising purely because there wasn’t much else to distract themselves by. A week later he’d settled into the idea a little better, forewarned himself not to judge a book by its cover- especially as he hadn’t even seen this book’s cover- and tried to bask in the luxury that would soon warm the empty space beside him, love was not his agenda, but friendship was, at the very least they could work towards that.

For the first ten years, he had lived with his own reflection, taught himself the tricks of the trade and hunted for food to keep himself ready for when the winter in the Swiss Alps got too much to surpass, now he didn’t really worry about the months of bad snow and heavy hail, he embraced it. Eighteen months previous he lost his footing and tangled his leg in a bear trap, he’d led there for almost a day, sure he was going to die when out of nowhere came a howl that awoke him from the pneumonia consuming him and pushed him to try again to be free, when he got home and sorted out his injuries he decided never to trek the mountains alone and invested in a dog to walk by his side. Life became a little easier after that, he hoped after the arrival of his unseen wife that she would offer him a different form of companionship that would mask the lonely nights as his dog had masked his lonely days.

With his gun hung up in the cupboard and Oatie asleep by the fire, he blinked through the haze of snowdrops and waited by the window for her arrival, truth be told he had imagined her to look a million different ways, but when he saw her he knew his imagination had never done her the justice she so desperately deserved.

For she was far more beautiful than he’d imagined, her soft eyes held an angelic serenity that deposited itself around her. The flakes of snow waved around her, encapsulating themselves in her sooty hair only to fall atop her long lashes causing her to shiver out a foggy breath. It was like even the snow caressed her, hoping to feel her innocence rather than take it away, for they too were made of purity and virtue, blessing all those that witnessed their descent from the sheet of blue above.

She turned then, lifted a shaking foot from the boat and wrapped a gloved hand around the post for leverage, held her chin over her shoulder and smiled “Thank you”. Her heart had stopped its steady beat, now rapidly thumping against her ribcage at the prospect of meeting someone new.

Her politeness was a welcomed change from what he had been accustomed to, her presence in itself was a welcomed change from the normality of loneliness and coldness that had seeped into his skin and took a hold of his beating heart. With a cheshire grin, he held his hand out for her to take “You must be my wife” he joked, eyes crinkling at his own humour.

Her hand traced his palm while resting within it “Mishti” she murmured, eyes on the ground and her knees ever so slightly bent as if she was bowing. She knew not what he expected her position to be in his life, but whatever it was, she wouldn’t argue against it, her past had made it very clear that she should stay in her station and never dream for equality, she was built for blood, bruises and ownership that nearly cost her, her own life.

“Abir” his brows met at her stance “No need to fall at my feet” he assured, warm hands on her thin shoulders to pull her up to her full height as he injected a hint of wit into his tone, “You are already short enough”.

At his unsolicited touch, Mishti jumped back, eyes shuttering against the onslaught of memories brought on by his hands.

It didn’t seem to matter that the second his hand raised she expected the hit to come, once his hand finally bounced across her cheek she always felt surprised when her body fell back against the table, glass shattering beneath her spine and coiling into her cracked ribs. His hand was like an electric shock, stunning and strong, enough to discredit her mournful sobs at the man she was losing alongside the incredible loss of herself, enough to yank her to her knees and tip her head forth in a meet and greet that left red pouring from between her lips and staining her bare chest.

His bruised knuckles radiated heat against her scalp, protruding against bones and skin till she was knocked into submission and unconsciousness, then his belt dropped and with it his trousers and her will to survive. “Better the Devil you know” he’d scrape against her ear.

It was then that it hit her like a faithful companion to remind her forever that although he was dead, he would always live on within her- Abir was a Devil she didn’t know, therefore she had no idea what to expect or how to please him so that when he lashed out he would do so with a pinch of mercy rather than salt to sting her limbs.

Abir slogged his feet backwards “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” the worried frown etched into his skin refused to fall at the shake of her head, people were similar to animals, they had an instinct to survive and when they felt fear it was always for a reason, like a stab in the gut that their time could soon be up.

A rush of flecked brown and white fur came running toward her, hitting her knees with a brutal force that ended in yaps for acknowledgement as the dog rose his two front paws up onto her stomach and hung his tongue out.

“Sorry” he pulled him down immediately. “This is Oatie, my roommate” kneeling beside him, he wrapped an arm under his neck and sunk his hand into his fur lovingly. “Oatie, this is Mishti, she’s our new guest, so you have to be nice” he cooed.

Treading back a little, she gulped, flinching at the large animal who could very easily take her out if it wanted to. Danger often followed her everywhere she went, leaving behind a trail of devastation that hung over her like a shadow. Before she had stepped off the boat she’d begun the journey of acceptance- she would die here and that too by his hands, but she was far too drained to want to do anything about it, she’d been lucky enough to survive her husband, there was no way she’d be just as lucky and survive him too.

“He’ll protect you out here” he looked up, “We have a lot of wild animals here, so don’t go out without him”.

Mishti wrung her hands at his words, she’d never been protected in her life and didn’t expect him or his dog to even try, she’d learnt a long time ago that she really only had herself in this world, but she was no longer sure if she was enough to keep herself safe against a man as toned as him and his dog. Peering over at them from the corner of her eye, she took in his shaggy hair that was now drenched in wet snow making the black turn to an even darker shade, his stubble was well trimmed, framing his face with maturity that brought out his chocolate orbs. When he stood back up she could see the muscular fitness of his body against the navy knitted jumper, to survive in a place like this he had to be fit and by the looks of it, he often spent his spare time working out to be just that- a survivor, it was something she could relate to, but something she would never be. She had died a long time ago, when exactly she wasn’t sure, she estimated the third time her husband’s hand choked her voice box and strangled her breaths before they reached mid-air.

Abir gestured to the wooden door “Shall we go inside? My Grandfather would never forgive me if I allowed you to catch a cold on the very first day”.

She nodded slightly, bending to take her case only for her hand to brush against his when he tried to do the same, pulling it back as if stung, she cradled it to her chest “S-sorry”.

Lifting her belongings, he shrugged it off “Nothing to be sorry for” he promised.

But she was a woman with many things to be sorry for and she always would be, she’d been educated well enough before to know that sorry itself was just a word with no meaning and he too was likely to apologise when he finally lost his patience with her, but by then it truly would be too late to find a deeper meaning behind the five-letter word that could hold so much and yet so little.