Captive Of The Count

50

Well, with the last chapter, a lot of brows were raised even after I spelt out the trigger warnings in the beginning and middle of this story. I had to re-edit chap 49 to add a trigger warning and the readers that thought it was a new update, I am so sorry🥺I was just editing to add the warning.

Please read the trigger warnings again in my Author's note and if you find any theme that you wouldn't be comfortable with, that's fine.

No need to bash the book❤️

Orian's pov

There was only one thing on my mind as I took a scalding hot shower, wincing as water met with the unhealed scars on my back.

Amara's safety.

I wasn't comfortable leaving her here unprotected while getting out of the castle grounds and even with the extra security measures I would have to take, I will still be concerned about her getting harmed while I was away.

I know she can fight but in this situation, it was different. She's a deep sleeper and I fear she might react too late if danger was to come, giving the enemy the upper hand, hopefully, her wolf would be more alert than she is and protect her human.

I got out of the bathroom naked with my towel hung around my neck and hair dripping wet. I didn't mind the cold air that kissed my bare skin which would cause any other person to shiver but I was immune to it.

I passed by the broken mirror at the dressing table, not once glancing at it so I wouldn't catch a reflection of myself even in its broken state.

I hate mirrors, I can't stand them.

I share the same distaste I have for mirrors, for pictures.

Anytime I caught a reflection of myself, my skin crawls with irritation remembering the little boy on his birthday that betrayed his own first best friend by eating her. I remember seven-year-old me hiding under the bed to avoid my father's cruelty and whips, my mother touching me inappropriately and selling me off to her friends for tiny pouches of cocaine because they all took interest in bedding a pretty underaged boy like me and she saw more way to make money plus the abundance of drugs and beer. I remember thirteen-year-old me being excited about a new life and fifteen-year-old me having his happiness snatched away from him and thrown in prison where I met with other tragic happenings.

And then when I looked again of recent, I saw a man, an unfortunate man.

I always termed myself as unfortunate, anything that gives me a flicker of happiness gets snatched away with me being helpless and having nothing to do about it. Hence, my apprehension towards my feelings for Amara. No one would understand too well, only Nexus would because the situation was deeper than it seemed.

I see a broken beyond repair man who is undeserving of love. I see a man who Hector harmless joked about at every meeting, either talking about how I hardly get laid or I still have nightmares for my age.

They would laugh at his jokes and I would laugh and when I showed the slightest discomfort, I came across as the man who can't take a joke
But now I know the people who care about you wouldn't make a mockery of you in public with your trauma.

I see a man trapped with all versions of himself, From the kid-like version to the adult because he never got to live them with fulfillment.

I wore my belt while sniffing at myself to make sure that I didn't smell like Amara, if Hector should perceive her scent on me, he would try to talk about it and distract me from my reason of visit. I finished dressing up, armed myself, and went to my table where most of my books were kept. I had kept Amara's teddy bear, fluffy, on the table and next to it was a box that had something very special.