Color Me Crimson | 𝘙𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘝𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦

1͓4͢

Soft, chilled fingers wake me, wrapping a new bandage around my arm. The touch is so light I wouldn't have even noticed if it weren't for the pain radiating from my wounds.

Levi fastens surgical tape around the strip of clean white gauze covering my arm. Black hair falls into his face, hiding all but his narrow nose and hard jaw line, the rest of his form outlined by the same black jacket. He doesn't acknowledge my return to consciousness, only sets down my right arm and begins to unwrap the other.

His face doesn't hold creases of concern or disgust, just impassive focus. I find that impressive, considering the ugly state of what lies under the bandage.

When the bandage comes off my left arm, I'm reminded of the damage inflicted. Not just from the jagged red lines, marked in deep crimson, but by the collection of old white scars I severed along the path of the new cut. Most people would want to look away. Part of me does, too, but I don't. I never have. It's like reliving my worst memories, and for some reason I can't let them go.

I study the thin stitches inching up my arm, neat and orderly—so unlike the wound they hold together. The sight of the thread and gauze does something weird to my insides. My heart reacts as if it, too, was wounded. This is the first time my self-imposed injuries have gotten proper care. The first time someone's gotten to them before they turned into scars.

Running my fingers over the dark thread, I trace the rough ridges where they dive into my skin. Levi sets the gauze down on my lap and looks at me with a neutral expression. His eyes are dull, the worn but not aged. The red of his irises has faded further, enough so that his eyes appear more onyx than crimson.

"It could still scar, but those will help." His tone carries no indication of his intent, but it seems he's more interested in healing than hurting.

I wonder how he can be so void of pity or condemnation. He has all reason to, even more so since he's seen me at what has arguably been my worst. Maybe he really doesn't care about anything outside of the supernatural games I've been thrown into.

"Thank you," I finally say in response.

He hums and picks up my arm, winding white cloth around and once again hiding the ugly marks. "Are you hungry?"

I nod. "Yes."

I'm not sure what time it is, but I feel as if I haven't eaten in over a day.

Levi rises from the side of the bed and walks out of the room, leaving the door open so I can see a little ways down the hallway. More wood-paneled walls are highlighted in gold from horizontal sun rays. Is it evening already?

Aside from the bed and wooden chair, there's a wardrobe and a few shelves, housing a small collection of books and trinkets. Not a speck of dust in sight, meaning this isn't some abandoned shack. But it still could be used for the purpose of kidnapping and torturing victims.

I want to believe that Levi is telling the truth, and he isn't on Lucien's side, but I can't trust that he's on my side, either. For all I know I'm merely a pawn in a supernatural game of chess.

I shimmy up the bed until my back rests against the headboard, pulling the thick blanket up to cover my still underdressed chest. That's one thing that needs to be taken care of, but my concerns about the clothing situation are surpassed by hunger. With my returning strength, it feels like a gaping hole has opened in my stomach.

Soon a drool-worthy aroma drifts into the room, and I feel like using all the energy I can muster just to find the source. My eyes drift wantonly down the hallway.

Within a few minutes, soft footsteps precede Levi carrying a food tray. At the least, I'm grateful to not be in a hospital right now. I think saliva is literally about to leak out of my mouth as I lay my eyes on garlic-buttered salmon next to a side of seasoned veggies. For the first time, a semblance of a smile lifts the corners of Levi's mouth and he places the tray on my lap and my stomach rumbles in gratitude. "Sounds like I chose the right meal."

A tall glass of water accompanies the feast and another loud growl rumbles from my stomach. The pathetic groceries I usually manage to buy, between stocking up on dry goods from the food pantry, are tasteless compared to this. And it's even better than most of the dishes I've gotten to taste from the restaurants I've worked at.

"Mmn," I emphasize, already stuffing my mouth despite the protest from my arms. Then I remember to swallow before I speak. "This is amazing."

"Glad you like it." He takes his usual seat in the wooden chair and starts on a plate of his own. My unstoppable eating spree slows as I watch him lift a forkful of salmon to his mouth and take a bite.

If he is a vampire, the taste of garlic doesn't bother him. Figured.

I narrow my eyes. Since when did I accept that he was actually a vampire?

"Something the matter?"

I hurry to fix my face. "No, thanks again for the meal."

I return to my plate. In between brief glances, I notice Levi gave himself a glass of water as well, which I find much more consoling than any liquid of the red variety.

One thing is certain, even though he knows who Lucien is, and saved my life, I'm not about to call him out on being some supernatural phenomenon. If he plays ignorant, then so can I.

But I still have questions. I savor the last bite on my plate and turn to him. "I do need a few answers."

He looks up, intent.

"How do you know Lucien? And how did you find me? Why save me and bring me here?" I hesitate, but tack on at the end, "Will you let me leave?"

Levi swallows his bite, then sighs as he stands up. "Shall I answer as you eat seconds, or are you finished?'

I look down at my plate, mostly to check if there's more, which there isn't, and also to hide the pout on my face. I'm not a child who needs to be served and cleaned up after. If I wasn't so worn out, I'd happily offer to do dishes, but in my current state all I can do is accept his kindness. "I don't expect charity for nothing, and if you really don't mean to give me up to Lucien or keep me to yourself, I promise I'll repay you."

"I see." He sets his plate on top of mine and lifts the tray from my lap. "Perhaps seconds can come after we talk." Before turning to leave, he hesitates and glances down at me. "You should know, I'm the one who's repaying you."

Cliff hangers, do you love or hate 'em?

❤️‍🩹 Siberia