Black Keys (The Colorblind Trilogy #1) - Rose B. Mashal Page 0,18

to move it away from me, but he was so much stronger than me that I was barely able to move his hand.

I was just about to scream, when he placed his other hand over my mouth. I stumbled and fell to the bed, forcing him down with me.

Tears were pouring out of my eyes as I screamed into his hand and begged with my heart for God to make him let go of me. I didn’t want to die.

My heart almost stopped as he brought the knife near my face, and I was about to bite his hand when I saw that the knife didn’t stop when it was near me. Instead, it kept moving up until it was on the shoulder of the hand that was over my mouth.

My kicks stilled and my screams stopped, and my fear was replaced by confusion and shock as I watched him placing the blade on his shoulder, his eyes never leaving mine. He didn’t hiss or even flinch when the blade broke the skin where he pressed on it, blood escaping his freshly-cut wound.

With hate and venom lacing his voice he told me, “Don’t you even, for a split second, think that I’m interested in a filthy American who spreads her legs for the first man who takes her out for dinner.”

I wasn’t sure if the shock that was filling me had anything to do with the fact that he said he wasn’t interested in me in any way, that he had called me a filthy American, or the fact that he accused me of sleeping with the first guy who’d offer me dinner. I only knew that I was too shocked to move at all. I was like a limp noodle; I didn’t react with any objection when he pulled me up to my feet.

I think I was just grateful that I wasn’t dead. Yet.

Red rosebuds flew everywhere and all over the bed, as he yanked the bed sheets up and fisted them in his hand. He then brought them up to his shoulder and patted his wound a few times until he was satisfied with the smudge of blood that had now formed on the white sheets, and walked back to the door – but not before shooting me a disgusted look.

He opened the door just a little and gave the sheets to whom I assumed to be Mona, making sure that his wound was hidden behind the door as he stood by it.

I was beyond confused by the act. Why would he cut his arm that way to put blood on the sheets? Why was he asked to give over a sheet that had blood on it, anyway?

Then Joseph’s words came to my mind: ‘Blood for blood.’

It was virgin blood that was supposed to be on those sheets. He wanted to make them believe that the blood was just that. He had hurt himself to make them believe it was my virginity!

But, why? Why didn’t he just tell them the truth? Why would he want to cover up what really happened by lying to his family?

Lots of questions roamed around inside my head, but my thoughts were interrupted by the prince going into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him.

I glanced back at the door to the room, the thought of opening it and just running seemed so sweet in my mind, but I knew someone could be out there. I didn’t want to risk being caught without even beginning to really escape.

The prince came out of the bathroom, his wound now covered with a white bandage, his wife-beater gone. I had no idea why I looked at his chest, his tight muscles and perfect eight-pack abs. I swallowed thickly as I watched him moving around the room, a strange sensation going through me. Again, I wanted to believe it was fear, but I knew I couldn’t lie to myself about it for too long. It was a new feeling I wasn’t familiar with, and I had no idea if I really wanted to know what it was or not.

He put his thawb on and left the room without even glancing my way, the head thing in his hand.

I hadn’t noticed that I had been holding my breath, but when I heard the door being shut after him, I let out a big amount of air in a sigh of … relief, maybe.

Not a minute later, and before I could move an inch from my spot,