blood orange sky (bwwm horror)

safe and sound

Calliope stirred, her body heavy with exhaustion, every muscle aching from a sleepless night. The sound of Lucas's footsteps echoed in the hallway—slow, deliberate. The tension between them, thick from the day before, clung to the air like a storm waiting to break.

She knew Lucas was waiting for her, and the thought sent a ripple of dread through her. But she forced herself up, each movement stiff with anxiety, because not going to him wasn't an option.

When she entered the kitchen, Lucas was already there, seated at the table, his eyes fixed on her like a predator watching prey. His gaze was cold, and possessive, making her feel smaller with each second that passed. He didn't speak at first, just watched her move, his silence as oppressive as the space between them.

Finally, his voice cut through the quiet, flat and demanding. "Make breakfast. And make it good."

Calliope swallowed the lump of fear rising in her throat and nodded, turning to the stove. Her hands shook as she reached for the eggs, the simple act of cooking suddenly feeling like a monumental task. She was so tired—physically, mentally—but she didn't dare argue. Not when she could see that dark, calculating look in his eyes. The one that told her how dangerous he could be if provoked.

The sizzle of bacon in the pan did nothing to drown out the weight of his gaze, burning into her back like a brand. He didn't move, didn't speak, just sat there, watching her with an intensity that made her skin crawl.

The silence stretched, suffocating, until finally, Lucas leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. "You know," he said, voice casual but laced with something darker, "you're not bad at this. Cooking. I've always liked a woman who knows her way around the kitchen."

She said nothing, her throat tight. His words felt more like a test than a compliment. The air between them buzzed with tension, a feeling she couldn't shake—the sensation that something worse was coming, creeping just beneath the surface.

She reached for the toast, but his voice broke the fragile calm again, sharp and sudden.

"Are you a virgin, Calliope?"

The question hit her like a slap. Her hands faltered, nearly dropping the plate. She turned slightly, heart hammering in her chest, unable to believe what she'd just heard. His eyes were still locked on her, but there was something different now—an unsettling hunger that sent ice through her veins.

Her mouth went dry. She knew this wasn't an innocent question. There was no curiosity in his tone—just control, the kind that made her feel trapped. He was playing with her, testing how far he could push.

"No," she lied, voice barely above a whisper. She forced herself to sound steady, but inside, her pulse raced. "I'm not."

For a brief moment, his expression flickered—satisfaction, perhaps, or something worse. But he said nothing more about it, just leaned back, watching her with a small, twisted smile that sent every instinct in her body screaming for her to run.

But there was nowhere to go.

As she finished cooking, the knot of dread in her stomach tightened, knowing there was no easy way out. Lucas had her pinned, and even if she wanted to fight, wanted to flee, she knew it wasn't safe. Not with the way his eyes kept lingering on her like she was a prize he'd already claimed.

"You act like you've never experienced a man's touch. You know you're beautiful and we already share a bed," he said, attempting to coax her. "You should be thankful I'd even consider a girl like you."

She set the plate in front of him, her fingers trembling as she tried to keep her voice steady. The weight of his earlier question still hung in the air, making her skin feel too tight, too raw. She was tired—tired of being treated like she was less than human, tired of the way he toyed with her like she was his to manipulate. And for once, she couldn't hold back the words.