Drawn To You (boyxboy)

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Peter

In school they'd taught us that the probability of an event occurring was always between zero, impossible, and one, certain. I could safely say that it was a likelihood of negative twenty that Christian Young had kissed me.

I lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Somewhere on the carpet at the foot of my bed, Wyvern lay purring softly. My eyes pulsed with the inexorable pain of fatigue. How many hours of sleep had I gotten? Two? Two and a half, maybe? It was hard to keep count while my mind was busy deliberating which mental disorder I'd developed, pseudohallucination or schizophrenia.

I wouldn't have been surprised if I had imagined it; a dramatic and passionate fantasy about what I had wanted so badly for the past month, made sense. I wrapped my arms around myself. The feeling of his hands all over me still lingered on my skin, the softness of his hair in my hands, and his pleasurable smell that fired every synapse in my brain. I could have chalked all that up to have been a wonderful daydream. But there was one fatal flaw to that theory.

With an unexpected difficulty, I heaved my body upright. I pushed the bunched-up comforter aside and swung my legs off the bed. As my feet touched the tiled floor, a chill spread across my soles. I winced and kicked around for a few moments, until I successfully placed my feet into my slippers. I got up and walked around the bed, stopping at the tall mirror beside my closet. I turned around and, looking over my shoulder, I pulled the back of my shirt up.

There towards the lower area on the pale bronze skin of my back, were ten deep welts, five on either side. Although they were a little wide apart, they were the basic shape and layout of two hands – just a lot larger than mine. I'd checked my back at least five times the night before, just to make sure they were still there.

It was right there in front of me, and I could see it with my own eyes. But it didn't make any sense at all. Undoubtedly, from his age and his stature, Christian was strong. But surely no-one could be strong enough to do something like that. So how on earth had he?

With a heaving sigh, I unlatched my fingers and let my shirt drop down. I opened my closet and grabbed the towel that was hanging behind the door. Shutting it, I stalked off and out of the room in the direction of the shower.

*

"You can't keep me locked up here forever. Griffin will come for me."

"That's what I'm counting on, beautiful," Raymond replied, a cocky smile on his face. He narrowed his steel blue eyes at Melina. "I know that he'll come running like a little lapdog, because my brother loves you with a blindness that, though amusing, is almost painful to watch."

She returned his glare, still struggling to move her arms against the black ropes that bound her to the chair. "How can you mock his love for me? Wasn't it just a few hours ago that you declared that you're in love with me?"

His expression faltered. It was for only a fraction for a second, but she'd seen it. He turned around and walked off to stand by the window. "Yes, I sure did. I put everything on the line, just to tell you how much I cared about you." He laughed a small, empty laugh. "And then you chose him."

Raymond turned away from the window, his shaggy, jet-black hair almost like a dark halo atop his head. He took two strides and was suddenly in front of Melina, kneeling down. "But I know how to detach myself. It's in my nature. And now, this situation just serves as a helpful reminder of something I learned long ago."

She glowered menacingly at him. Undeterred, he leaned forward, staring straight into her eyes with immeasurable certainty. "Love is weakness. Love invites danger. Love brings death."