Born Out of Blood

Chapter One

'Where have you been, sweetheart?' the voice on the other side of the door was deep, a little raspy and slightly out of breath.

I didn't answer, I only slid open the hatch to slide in the metal tray and close it firmly. There were three short raps on the door, a deep exhale and then,

'I can smell you.'

I had worn the perfume every single day and not once had he made mention of it. I assumed he was toying with me.

I swallowed, not replying as I was strictly told to do.
I had to wait until he finished eating, I had to take the tray back so he wouldn't use it as a weapon. It made me wonder what he was capable of, what type of strength he had that he was locked up in a cell several floors below the basement of the Avengers Compound.

The word disgraceful was thrown around a lot by my supervisors when regarding the man in cell six. But I wasn't so dumb to believe even they knew who was in that cell, we were all bound by NDA's and none of us was willing to face the wrath of the higher-ups for the sake of some gossip.

I glanced at the large glass window to my right but it offered no view of the prisoner inside. Sometimes if a prisoner was being interrogated or had a visitor then with a press of a button the glass turned transparent.

They had never happened with the prisoner in cell six. He had no visitors. Not that I was aware of. I had been working at the Compound post-Blip after returning to a world that had continued to spin without me on it.

Originally I was part of a study on those who had been snapped. Technically we had died and been turned into ash for five years until Tony Stark and the Avengers saved us all. It had come with major consequences that the entire population of the earth was still trying to recover from.

Between my daily blood tests and DNA samples, I pretty much had to make the Compound my home. I had nothing to go back to and frankly, the outside world was horrifying, although all of earth's population had been returned it felt overwhelming the grief and anger that still brewed at its core. So, when I had been offered the meagre job of 'caretaker' I accepted. It was a job that had me keeping my head down, I was told what to do anywhere from making coffee runs for special agents to delivering lunch to concealed prisoners.

It kept a roof over my head, it kept me stable.

'You're staring at me.' he said, I tore my gaze from the glass and inspected my nails.

'I can't see you.' I told him and there was a deep chuckle. I restrained myself from looking back to that same blank space on the glass knowing he might have been standing right against it and staring right at me.

'All this time I've been waiting to hear that sweet voice.'

I flushed and offered no other words for him, slightly irritated he had caught me in my thoughts and slipping up and speaking to him. I bit into my tongue as if doing such a thing would have my words stopping from spilling out.

Who was he?

I waited a long while as he ate, or supposedly wait as I couldn't hear him or see him. Boredom and curiosity got the worst of me, I reached out to the dark glass and rapped my long nails on its surface,

'Whatever you're here for, it cant be good.'

The silence that followed my statement stretched on forever. I almost believed he was purposefully ignoring me, not glad that it had been me directing the conversation or snooping about his indiscretions and what highly illegal or evil thing he had done to end up in that cell.

'Do you hope I'm bad?'

'No.'

'Do you think you could save me?' he was so close to the glass, on his exhale the glass fogged slightly but still I couldn't see him.

I said nothing. What type of saving did he think I was capable of, breaking him out of there, opening his cell and letting him walk out? I had no key card or security pass high enough. I was basically a glorified errand girl.

Or had he meant save him, as in his soul? Would I be capable of such a thing, to save him from everything bad he had done, could I help him be forgiven for whatever crime he was imprisoned for, could I turn him good, make him someone worth loving?

My mind got away from me once more, I felt myself staring at where his breath had been, wishing that that glass was not there, that I could see his face or at least catch a glimpse at the size of him. His presence felt foreboding, strong, and powerful. He was someone to be feared.

And I feared him, it's why I couldn't answer him. It's why after a few days of the errand of delivering him his lunch I couldn't speak to him.

With no answer, he rapped on the door once again and I shifted forward to open the latch, my hands shook slightly as I opened it, the food was gone but sitting on the tray was a small white hand towel.

I didn't touch it, I could only stare at it suspiciously. There was no way this guy was giving me his dirty laundry. Finally, knowing no one else would come and do my job for me I took the tray.

'What is this?' I asked as I closed the latch and passed the window to where I knew he would be looking at me.

'A gift.' he said and I felt the pressure of his silence that followed, I knew he was prompting me, was anticipating my questions even if they were naive. I had a decent idea of what it was but still, I wanted to hear him tell me. I half-expected him to beat on the glass and start swearing at me.

'What am I meant to do with it?' I asked and looked back down to the tray, surely I couldn't dump it in the kitchens and I didn't want to risk going to the laundry should anyone else be there and ask me what I was doing. I'd have to throw it in the trash.

'Put it in your panties. Paint that pretty pussy with me.' his answer confirmed my thoughts, my eyes drawn back to the white towel. Though I couldn't see the cum I knew it was hidden between the folds of the towel. I bit my bottom lip to keep from blushing. I should have been more disgusted but with him being on that side of the glass and me on this side, I wasn't too worried. It could have been worse.

'I don't think so.' I said flatly, peering at the glass.

His voice was raspy as he spoke, 'Don't tell me the image doesn't make you blush.'

I laughed nervously, hoping to ease the tension settling in the air around me and the explicit image of me doing just so. Would he have wanted to just pull up my skirt there and shove it in my panties? Would he get off on that? Or was this simply a test, him just toying with me to see how stupid I was. The second thought turned my blush into a flush of anger, I swallowed and held the tray out farther from me.

'I don't know you.' as if that was enough of a reason not to do it.

'You would if you saw my face.'

'And would it make me like you?'

'Maybe, maybe not.' he laughed and my body shifted closer to the glass so I could only see my bronze hair reflected back at me and my wide blinking eyes, 'You'd sure as hell put me between your legs if you saw me.' he added and I could only frown at that and glance back at the towel on the tray before me. He was awfully confident in himself and it had only made me more curious, wanting to see him, a glimpse, even just a glimpse of his silhouette would be enough.

'That's bold of you.' I said, though it wasn't intended to sound condescending, the waver in my voice made it sound like it.

The glass shook as he slammed his palms against it, I didn't allow myself to step back, I didn't want him to think I was threatened by him. I didn't want him to see me as weak.

'You're deranged.' I hissed and backed up, heading back to the elevator, upstairs I could catch my breath and tell my supervisors I wasn't doing the job again, I would have rather cleaned toilets then listen to the rambling of a mad man. No matter how attractive he was - or thought he was.

'Oh honey, you've no idea.' he shouted after me as I hurriedly pressed the elevator button. I could feel his heated glare through the glass and peered over my shoulder to find he had fogged the glass with his breath, and in the fog he had drawn a love heart.