Because You Love to Hate Me(53)
She knew what this meant.
The thick brocaded curtains were stripped from her carriage, and sunshine pierced through, stinging her eyes. She turned her head from the brightness as the door crashed open, torn from its hinges. A dark shadow filled the doorway, blotting out the sunlight. Mei Feng’s chest seized in terror.
Without a word, Hai Xin yanked her into his powerful arms. They felt like flesh, but his hold was as strong as stone, immovable like a mountain. He glided low across the wild grasses into the fields, flying, and she was carried like a rag doll against his chest.
She could hear no heartbeat there.
“The emperor will have to find some other girl,” Hai Xin said. “I have my own plans for you.”
He set her down on her feet in the field, but she clung to him, too weak from shock and fear to stand. Hai Xin took this as an invitation and bent over to kiss her, capturing her lips and her breath. She knew for certain now what he wanted. He had whispered cajolingly about children and wedded bliss, but it was clear what Hai Xin was truly after—what his aim had been from the start.
Mei Feng shoved away from him and stumbled back. “No,” she said.
“No?” His black eyebrows lifted, and an amused smile curved his mouth.
She turned from him and ran. But the golden grasses were tall here, growing above her knees, and she was disoriented and frightened; a strange stupor like spilled ink spread across her mind. Mei Feng tripped and crashed to her knees. Hai Xin pinned her to the ground before she could blink.
“No!” she shouted at him, the declaration reverberating powerfully, ricocheting through the empty countryside.
“I am Hai Xin,” he said, and the words filled her whole being so her body tremored with them. “God of the Sea.”
Mei Feng forced herself to look into his face, stared into his eyes. Light spilled forth from his gaze, but darkness, too, swirled within. It was like falling into the sun—like drowning in a star-filled sky. Then she was tossed on tumultuous waves, tasting brine in her mouth, her vision blinded by rough sands and the swirl of the sea.
“You cannot say no to me,” Hai Xin said, and his voice swelled, thunderous as an ocean storm. “I take what I want.”
After it was over, Hai Xin disappeared.
His weight was heavy upon her, and then it was gone.
Mei Feng lay on the ground for some time, unable to move. The tall grasses swayed beside her, whispering—a consolation. Finally, she forced herself onto her feet and somehow managed to stand. Her legs shook, knocking against each other, as she tried to straighten her silk skirt. A sleeve had been ripped at the shoulder, and several peach panels torn from the tunic. She attempted to re-tie the embroidered belt around her waist, but her fingers trembled too much. Instead, she smoothed her hair, tucking loose strands behind her ears, and picked a few rough stalks of grass from her locks.
Her heart felt constricted, and she could not take a full breath.
Suddenly the air before her shimmered, and her body went rigid, terrified it was Hai Xin again.
But it was a woman instead, tall and regal, clad in a flowing white dress. Her black hair was arranged in high, elaborate loops, woven with emeralds, and a silver crown rested against her brow. She was more beautiful than any woman Mei Feng had ever seen, with perfect features, reminding her of the statues hewn of gods. She realized then who this woman was and fell to her knees.
“Goddess of Purity,” she said, barely above a whisper.
Mei Feng had prayed to her for guidance, and the goddess had come to comfort her. She had witnessed this cruel act, this terrible misdeed by another god; the goddess had come to make things right.
“How dare you utter my name?” The Goddess of Purity spoke in a clear voice, as cold and cutting as glass.
Mei Feng’s head jerked up, confused.
“I pulled the strings of fate, chose you myself to be delivered to the emperor as a new bride,” the goddess said. “And you let yourself be defiled instead. Who will want you now?”
Mei Feng leaped to her feet, arms thrust forward, palms open in supplication. “Goddess, no. I didn’t want this. I tried to fight—”
“Did you say no?”
“I did,” Mei Feng replied with vehemence. “I tried to push him off.” The tears finally came, hot against her cheeks, and a sob tore through her sore, battered body. “But I didn’t have enough strength.”
“Did you refuse him during his first visit?” The goddess arched one black brow. “Did you say no during his second?”
Mei Feng stared at the Goddess of Purity, suddenly understanding. “It is not my fault.” She dashed her tears away in an angry gesture. “You cannot blame me for this.”
“Oh?” The goddess raised her arms in a graceful arc, expanding, growing to twice her size. She towered over Mei Feng. “How dare you, pathetic mortal girl, presume to look upon a god, much less consort with one? You were blessed with beauty and used it to lure an immortal’s attention.”
Mei Feng shook her head, unable to speak. Unable to believe what she was hearing.
“You will be punished for reaching so high, girl—for letting a god spill his seed in you.” She pointed a finger at Mei Feng.
Her body stiffened, and pain arced through it; agony racked her mind and her soul, her flesh. Mei Feng’s blood boiled, and she fell facedown into the dirt, burning pain radiating from her legs. She cried out, but no sound came. Pushing herself onto her hands, she tried to rise. She watched in horror as the flesh of her arms turned green, the color of mold, and her skin blistered with pockmarks and warts. “What is happening?” she growled. Her voice had turned thick and gravelly, monstrous.