A Blood Soaked Throne - Part Two

Fourteen - Alayah

My stomach turns as I relieve the memories of that night on the rooftop. It was more painful than I expected it to be, sharing that part of my trauma with him. I look up at him, my chest aching from the sobs that escaped. There's still more that he doesn't know, and it might be enough to push him away.

His arms are wrapped tightly around me as he offers me a small and reassuring smile. I want to believe what he said, that he will love every part of me no matter what, but how could he love someone that once felt something for the man he despises more than anyone? I can't deny that there were moments when I felt safe with Bastian, when I felt like he actually cared about me. Moments when I found myself caring about him. Damien deserves to know, to decide whether I'm worth risking his life for.

"There's something else," I mumble as I fight to keep my eyes from pulling away. "Damien, I..." I realize I don't quite know the right words. How do I describe the feelings I had for him? "There were times when I wasn't scared of Bastian, when he was the only one I felt safe with. I tried to fight the feelings that grew when he touched me, but I was so desperate to feel anything that wasn't pain." I pause, trying to read the expression that falls over his face. I pull myself further away from him, sure that he feels the same disgust for me that I do. "Afterwards I knew what I did was wrong. I knew that I was doing exactly what he wanted me to. I'm so sorry Damien, I should've told you sooner."

I can see how tense his body has become as he sits motionless on the stool in front of me. His silence stabs painfully at my chest. I move to stand, certain that he can't stand to look at me now that he knows what I've done. His hand reaches out and grabs mine, pulling me gently into his chest once again. His heart is pounding against my ear as his muscles relax around me.

"Alayah you shouldn't feel bad about anything you did or felt to survive. It takes incredible strength to keep even the smallest fragments of yourself when my father is doing everything he can to destroy them." He kisses the top of my head as my tears seep into his shirt. I can feel his arms trembling against my back. "I love you," he says as his voice cracks.

I don't have to look up at him to know that I'm not the only one crying. I can barely breathe as his words reach my ears. I expected him to be disgusted, to leave, not to hold me and feel the pain just as intensely as I feel it. Every scar that I have, every wound that he's healed from my body, he's felt them all too.

Cyrus clearing his throat in the doorway startles the two of us apart. Damien rubs both of his hands along his cheeks and avoids meeting his eyes. He stands across the bar with two plates in his hands, sitting them in front of us with an awkward smile.

"Thank you Cyrus," I say as I rub the tears from my own cheeks.

He nods his head and steps back into the kitchen for a moment before coming out with a plate of his own. I try to hide the surprise on my face when he sits down beside Damien, a look of understanding passing over him. I focus my attention on the meal in front of me. Cyrus has prepared a grilled chicken sandwich with a variety of spices. The bread that holds it has grill marks seared into it and some sort of pale orange sauce. Some sort of spinach or kale peeks out from underneath the bread and beside it is a pile of what looks to be homemade chips.

I pick up the sandwich and bite into it, momentarily stunned by how delicious it is. The three of us eat in silence as the memories I shared dig at the back of my brain. I haven't even swallowed the last bite when a harsh knock on the front door forces me from my seat. Damien moves protectively in front of me, both of us instinctively ready to run. Cyrus holds his hands up and steps closer to the door. His eyes find the clock above the bar and he lets out a sigh.