A Blood Soaked Throne - Part Two

Six- Alayah

Time is up, and my patience is growing thin. Not to worry pet, I know the two of you didn't escape on your own. Someone in this castle knows where you are, and I won't hesitate to torture each and every one of them to find out. Are you really willing to let them all suffer for your selfishness?

Every word that Damien said is immediately silenced as Bastian's voice echoes in my head. My body feels like ice despite the thick blanket wrapped around me and worry crosses over Damien's face as my mood shifts. He jumps up from the couch and settles himself on the floor in front of me, holding out his hand for me to take if I need it. It instantly warms my chilled fingers and I squeeze harder than I mean to as I bite hard into my tongue.

More people are going to be hurt because of me, because I couldn't handle the life Bastian gave me. Am I willing to let that happen? I've been at the receiving end of his torture and I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

"Alayah what is it?" Damien's comforting voice breaks through my panic. I let him suffer to keep me out of Bastian's arms and now everyone that we left behind is going to pay that same price.

"He's going to torture them all, the entire staff, if I don't go back. Damien we can't let him do that, they don't deserve that pain. This is my fault, I should be the one he punishes." My silent tears turn into sobs as I think of all the agony he inflicted on me being directed at someone else.

"They were prepared for the consequences. They knew what they were getting into when I asked them to help. Every single one of them wanted you to get out Alayah. It's an impossible situation, but if you go back now then their sacrifice would be for nothing. He's going to hurt them anyway, don't let him manipulate you into thinking he won't." He pleads with me, and on some level I know that he's right. But manipulation is something Bastian excels at, and the facts don't nullify the guilt eating away at me. I swallow the lump in my throat and try to stifle my sobs. My body feels drained from just hearing his voice.

"I need to sleep," I say. My words barely reach his ears but he nods and helps me stand from the chair. I'm helpless to stop him without turning myself over to his mercy once again, and even then Damien is right. He'll torture them anyway.

It hurts to think about going back, and it hurts to think about anyone else strapped to the center of the torture room stage. I climb into the bed, wrapping myself even tighter in the comforter as Damien glances at me from his familiar spot in the doorframe. My eyes are tired from crying, and it doesn't take long for the welcoming sleep to pull me in.

A few days pass without word from Bastian. Damien and I move through the hours in blissful quiet, exchanging looks that somehow always bring a rise of heat to my cheeks. I read, more focused on the detailed images that line the pages than the words themselves. Damien draws, keeping the sketchbook close to his chest so I can't see the unfinished sketches that hide within. Our stomachs grow hungrier as we stretch out the supply of food and each night I go to bed with a pit in my stomach. Bastian's silence brings with it more nightmares. My head fills with images of him torturing those we left behind and memories of all I've faced during my time here. Until one night the terrors become too much.

I bolt upright in the bed with Reese's face following me from my nightmares. The sound of water dripping around me and splattering against the windows puts me right back on that rooftop. I climb out from underneath the covers, my shaking legs struggling to keep me upright. The comforter drags behind me as I push open the sliding door that separates me from Damien.

My discomfort quickly subsides as I look at the perfectly outlined features of his sleeping face in the moonlight. One of his long legs extends over the arm of the couch with the other tucked at an angle underneath. The dagger he brought rests on the ground with his right arm instinctively dangling from the cushion to be near it. On his chest is the book he's kept so carefully hidden from my gaze.

I shuffle closer to him and pick it up, a shock running through my body as I take in the image on the page. It's almost an exact copy of me, but more beautiful than any reflection I've ever seen in the mirror. He's drawn the outline of the room and furniture, shading it in to create depth. But the majority of his work is focused on me. The blanket kept the soft curves of my body hidden, resulting in gorgeous detail on the upper half of my body. He's sketched out the way my curls were falling over my exposed shoulder. The gentle way my fingers were holding the book. The light streaking through the smudged windows onto my face. I look happy.

Is this how he sees me? My heart swells at the thought. I want to be the person he sees in me, to be worthy of the love he's shown me. Slowly he's pulling me from the depths I've been trapped in.

I close the cover and place it beside the blade as I settle onto the floor beside him. I rest my head against his shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling me back to sleep.

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I'm pulled from a blissfully dreamless sleep by the sunlight reflecting off of raindrops. The couch cushions sink under my weight as I stretch my weary muscles. The sound of water reaches my ears, but the downpour that strengthened my nightmares has passed. Damien is nowhere to be seen, meaning that at some point he vacated his spot on the couch and placed me into it. I sit up, the chilly morning air hitting my shoulder as the blanket slips off of it. The sound of the water sputters and then turns silent before I hear the sliding door of the bathroom squeak open on rusty railings.

Damien steps through, a cloud of steam rushing behind him to escape the space. A pair of gray sweatpants hangs loosely around his waist, accentuating the deep v shape that curves in from his torso. Water glistens in the sunlight on his chest and stomach. He runs a towel through his messy hair and it falls messily into his crimson eyes. The toned muscles in his biceps tense up as he pulls a long sleeved black shirt over his head. The fabric does nothing to conceal the sculpted outline of his body, and I find myself grateful for it.

It's not until he turns around and his eyes meet mine that I realize my mouth is hanging wide open. Heat immediately rushes to my cheeks and I turn away from the amused look I see taking over his face. He steps out of the bedroom and I can't pull my eyes from the floor, embarrassment turning my cheeks an unnatural shade of red.

I stand from the couch, allowing the blankets to topple onto the hardwood. I can't shake the flustered feeling that has taken over me.

"I'm going to take a shower," I say, needing a few minutes away from him to compose myself.

My entire body feels like it's on fire, but not in a bad way. The heat rises through me and I can't help the lustful thoughts that reach my mind. With them comes the guilt, that these are the same feelings I felt for Bastian not that long ago. But it's different right? I only felt that way because I craved any touch that wasn't excruciating, right? I bite hard into my lip and step into the bathroom, hoping that the scalding water will ease my conflicting emotions.