The Price of Protection

Chapter 20~ Family Affairs

CÉLINE:

My brain wakes up so slowly, trying to fight the need to wake up with the comfort I'm experiencing. I slowly wiggle my fingers and toes before rolling my neck and shoulders and finally moving on to wiggle my legs and feet. My eyes flutter open still fighting the warmth and softness of the bed. A second...two seconds... my eyes shoot open and I bolt up to sitting. The bed. This perfect, soft, warm, luscious bed. It would be a wonderful thing to be experiencing except...except I hadn't fallen asleep in bed and I hadn't woken up to get into bed. I suppose I could've been so tired that I don't remember. Yeah, that makes sense.

I've been emotionally ravaged over the past week and it wouldn't be crazy for me to have short episodes like that. It was only a few feet to the bed from the window seat so, yeah, I decided while nodding my head, I made it to the bed when I was half asleep. I wouldn't allow myself to consider the fact that someone put me in bed. There was no one here that I would trust to have their hands on me and besides that, who here would be kind enough to even consider doing that?

I look around for the hidden cameras from my cross-legged seat on the bed and note that, at some point, I will try to find them and block them. If nothing else, it will be an irritation to them- though I doubt I'll be able to irritate myself out of this whole situation. My eyes roam slowly and carefully over different ridges and any knicks or objects that don't quite fit or look too perfectly set. I'll find them, but not at the moment.

Letting my head lean down in one direction, I roll my neck before repeating the motion on the other side and rubbing my sore neck from the time I spent on the window seat. The alcove seems safer and more secure than anywhere else I've been recently. I run my hand through the light beach waves that still reside in my hair from sleeping damp. The hair twirls gently between my fingers and I focus on the different blonds and browns that naturally highlight my dirty blonde hair.

I sigh, dropping my hands and twiddling my fingers. What am I supposed to do now? I don't have clothes for the day, I don't have a bell to ring for food, should I speak into the room and ask for some coffee? Do they drink coffee here or just the blood of their enemies? I snicker at my stupid sense of humor and then grimace. Something seriously has to be wrong in my head to be joking right now. Though it could just be my base defence mechanism. I need to watch that or I will end up looking manic. I can certainly imagine that I look like a lunatic over the video feed with the voices in my head feeding the different emotions on my expressive brows. I can't help it if my face has a mind of its own.

I'm about to flop back on the bed before the loud click sounds in the door mechanism and I jump to my feet unsure what I should be prepared to face. And I'll be honest, what I saw next was not something I could even have guessed at. The large door pressed inward into the room, and nothing happened. I moved from where I was standing a few steps at a time until I could see into the doorway. A man, but I didn't know him. Red flags were set off throughout my mind and body at the brief sight of him. I wanted to retreat but his eyes caught mine and his mouth slid into a serpentine smile. The very blood in my veins was willing every part of me to run and hide. My gut is rarely wrong, especially when it has to do with someone's character.

"Bonjour, Céline," His deep voice slid in a rumble over me and sent a sharp spike of nerves through me, "I have heard so much about you that I simply had to meet you for myself."

Something about him was familiar. His voice...I blink and squint as I try to recall.

"Nothing?" he inquires, his smile only dropping a hint. "Not much for manners then." He walks into the room with both hands behind his back as he strolls around to the sitting area as if it were his living room. He holds out a hand to the small couch for me to come sit as he places himself in front of one of the adjacent chairs. The pieces of furniture were separated by a glass coffee table with gold metal legs carved intricately into vines and flowers.
It was like moving cement blocks trying to get my feet to move closer to the breathing red flag that's suddenly imposed upon my room.
As I moved slowly, so slowly I could see the patience running out on his face. The black hair that ran thick over his head was combed straight back and his facial hair was shaped perfectly close to his face. It probably cost more for him to get his beard groomed than for my full cut, wash, and style at a nice salon.