Basilisk (Dark Ominis Gaunt x OC gothic romance)

Chapter 7: Promise

My inner emo has never been more proud of herself because this story is currently #5 in 'gothic' out of over 1500! Thank you everyone!

——————————

Never part of any crowd...

~~Ominis~~

Ominis was sore everywhere. He was even more sore than after he'd helped Damien fight off all those damn inferi.

He sat up in bed with a soft groan, but felt something silky running against his hand as he did so. He reached out for it again and felt it, taking his hand away quickly when he realized it was hair. What- who-

Someone shifted against his leg, and he hissed softly in alarm and reached out gently, his touch feather light as he felt an elbow nudging against his thigh. Soft skin, silky hair...

He reached out again and felt a familiar silk cloth of a sleeve. He'd felt that same sleeve earlier when he'd gripped it while she'd been carrying him through the street. Ariadne! But why was she here? Why was she laying against the bed like this?

He listened carefully and heard even breaths, and he realized in shock that she was asleep. How long had she been here with him?

He brought a hand up to his chest where he'd been cut,

If... if I heal you it will probably leave a scar.

She'd been so worried about that, the trepidation obvious in her voice. She'd said her spells were weak... which would explain why she wasn't able to fend off those men at all, even when some of them hadn't even had magic.

His finger traced the line of the new scar thoughtfully, the feel of it different from the other scars that marred his skin. Somehow he liked that it was different. He'd gotten this scar protecting someone. It was a battle scar, rather than from torture.

He frowned as he heard her whimper softly in her sleep, her hand clutching at the sheets so it shifted next to him. Was she having a bad dream? Should he wake her? Would she be upset if he did?

He reached a hand out, thinking he should, but then remembered how he'd treated her before she'd left. He'd been terrible... he wouldn't blame her one bit if she didn't want him touching her at all right now. Perhaps ever. He took his hand back, resting it against his side again and lowering his head in frustration as he continued to listen to the soft whimpers and shuddering breaths she made.

He'd done this to her. He felt like he had somehow corrupted her with the venom that surrounded his life. She'd been innocent when she'd first met him, and because of his mistrust and anger she'd suffered terribly these last few days. What kind of husband was he? What kind of man was he, to do this to a woman? Especially one that seemed so strangely delicate despite her attitude.

He remembered the rush of air in front of him as she'd screamed in anger, the shock that she would attack the man who had hurt him driving him forward through the rest of the fight despite his injury. She had protected him. But... why?

Because you're my husband.

That had been her answer before, but it made little sense to him. Why would she help the same man who had terrified her just moments before? Why would she protect him at the risk of her own safety, when he had screamed at her in such rage?

He set his hand down on the bed again, but felt silken strands beneath his palm. He let out a soft sound, and couldn't help but run his fingers along her hair.

So soft... he'd had so little softness in his life. During his school it had been constant battles thanks to Sebastian and Damien, and then at home constant torture thanks to his brother. But here...