The Dragon Prince's Bride
Chapter 162. Hold me.

Chapter 162: 162. Hold me.

"Do not provoke me tonight, Neriah. Leave me be." He warned for the last time as he shoved her to the side albeit with much gentleness. And before she could run after him, he walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. She heard the bolts being put in place.

"He is really angry, yet he still treats me so gently." She muttered to herself and buried her face inside her palm.

Neriah had no idea how long he spent inside that bathroom, but when he finally came out, he was freshly bathed and in a robe. He was not too wet, but he was also not completely dry. Tiny droplets of water clung to the strings of his hair, dripping down his neck and trailing a line down into the open V at his chest as he cleaned his head with a cloth.

He tossed the cloth unto the head of a chair and with his hair still slightly wet, he made his way toward the bed, completely ignoring Neriah who still sat in the chair near the hearth.

He climbed into the bed and lay himself down without saying a single word to her.

He was wicked. He was a really wicked man. Neriah thought. She could not begin to wonder how she had lost hate for this man. She was trying to hate him for his current actions, but she couldn’t call what she was feeling hate. Far from it.

It was all her fault, she thought to herself.

Again, her feet touched the ground and with steps that were made to notify him of her movements, she walked to the bed and climbed her side too.

Instantly going under the covers hoping it would take away the chill from her bones. But it was useless. The bedcover felt even more cold. She turned her head to look at him and saw that his broad back was turned to her, and just the sight of it made tears well up in her eyes.

With a fierce heart hellbent on not crying, she turned her head and body to face the other side too. Turning her back to him too, but as she turned, the tears fell.

She wiped them with the back of her hands like a little child, but they kept on coming nonstop. She tried to muffle her sniffling, she didn’t want him to know that she was crying, yet she could not.

The cold in her bones was just too harsh. She placed a hand on her belly as she cried, as the thought of her baby crossed her mind again.

She had almost died! She wanted him to hold her. She wanted to be in his warm arms. Nowhere was as warm as her husband’s arms. She had learnt that over the months they’d spent together. Not even the bed covers were enough.

Her tears continued and so did her sniffling. ’He’ll hold me. He’ll pull me close like he always does.’ She kept repeating those words in her head, but minutes rolled by and she remained alone and cold.

And she couldn’t take it anymore. She turned, there was no other way. She could not hold it in any longer. She was throwing her pride out the window. Closer and closer she shifted and curled up close to him. Again and again she shifted till her head and hands were pressed upon his back and her legs curled up as though she was trying to merge herself to him.

She needed him. There was a time when she hated him for talking to her, but now, she hated that he wasn’t talking to her. She wanted him to call her name not in anger, but in that sweet manner which he always called her when they were alone in bed.

All she wanted was to be buried in his strong arms. She wished he would turn around and wrap his big arms around her. Wished he would lean close to her and take her lips in any manner he wanted to. Rough or tender.

She wanted him to tenderly take her in his arms and whisper sweet nothings to her. All she wanted was to seek his forgiveness and go back to being the way they were just before she ruined it with her stubbornness.

Her desire was that he would forgive her and then make hate to her... No... She did not want hate.

Silently choking on her sobs, Neriah pressed her head on his back even more. Just being so close to him and she could already feel the warmth creeping up her body. But it wasn’t enough.

She needed more of him. But he was not touching her. He was not even moving. He remained as still as a statue. And it made her tears flow even more, wetting the back of his robe.

Her fingers grabbed at his robe, pinching the fabric and drawing circles that only she could see. She did not know how to say it. She did not want to have to say it... That she needed him.

Her hand that drew circles moved up to his arm and held his sleeve, then she held his arm using that to pull herself even closer, not minding the fact that there was not even any more space between them.

Gently, she kissed his back. Where her tears had soaked his robe, she kissed him and when he still did not respond to her, she put on her entire armor of courage and opened her mouth...

"Barak." His name left her mouth in such a sweet and sad whisper. A very low whisper that if it had been daytime when people were going about their business, it would have not been heard. But it was night, so her whisper reached him but he did not move.

"Barak, please..." She begged. It was taking everything from her to open up like this. To say the words she was about to say with tears in her eyes. Her voice trembled as she spoke for she had never done this before, nor had she pictured ever doing this. Let alone with and toward Barak.

But she opened her mouth again and closed her eyes, "Please hold me... Hold your wife."