Exchanging Vows: The Swapped Wife Is a Top Shaman novel Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Ivy’s Point of View

His eyes found me. For a split second, our gazes locked.

My heart stopped.

Then I let my eyelids flutter closed, let my body go completely slack. Dead weight. Just another piece of furniture shoved under the bed.

Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react.

"She’s still out," Bastian muttered, sounding relieved. "Just making noise in her sleep or something."

"See? I told you." Seraphina’s voice floated down from above, dripping with irritation. "The drug hasn’t worn off yet. Now get back up here and finish what you started."

But Bastian didn’t move. Instead, his foot connected with my ribs.

Hard.

Pain exploded through my side. It took everything in me not to gasp, not to curl into myself. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood.

Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.

Another kick. This one to my hip.

"Bastian, stop playing with her and come back to bed." Seraphina sounded bored now. Annoyed that her evening entertainment had been interrupted.

He kicked me again. Testing. Waiting for a reaction.

I gave him nothing.

My body screamed. My ribs throbbed. But I stayed limp, stayed lifeless, stayed dead to the world.

Finally, Bastian grunted. "She’s really out. Must have been one hell of a dose."

"Delia knows what she’s doing." Seraphina’s voice turned sharp. "Now hurry up and get her out of here. Take her to Dominic’s room. Let the two rejects keep each other company."

"Fine." Bastian reached down and grabbed my arm, yanking me out from under the bed like I weighed nothing. My head cracked against the floor as he dragged me across the wood. I bit back a whimper.

Then his arms were under me, lifting me up. He carried me like a sack of grain. No gentleness. No care. Just a burden to be disposed of.

The hallway was cold. I kept my eyes shut, my body slack, as Bastian’s footsteps echoed against the marble floors. Left turn. Right turn. Up a small flight of stairs. I memorized every movement, every sound, even as my heart hammered against my ribs.

A door creaked open.

The smell hit me first. Medicine. Herbs. Something sharp and clinical beneath the faint scent of sandalwood.

Bastian dumped me onto a bed without ceremony. The mattress was soft, at least. Softer than the floor I’d been lying on.

"There." His voice was cold, dismissive. "Two broken things in one room. Perfect."

I heard him turn, heard his footsteps retreat. The door slammed shut behind him.

Silence.

I waited. Counted to fifty in my head. Then counted again.

Only when I was certain he wasn’t coming back did I slowly open my eyes.

The room was dim. Moonlight filtered through heavy curtains, casting everything in shades of silver and shadow. Candles flickered on a bedside table, their flames dancing weakly.

And beside me, someone was breathing.

Slow. Steady. The rhythm of deep sleep. Or something close to it.

I turned my head.

Oh.

Dominic Ashford lay beside me, still as death. His chest rose and fell in that mechanical way of the unconscious. No movement behind his closed eyelids. No twitch of his fingers. Just a body going through the motions of living without actually being alive.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify