Beautiful Disaster

Beautiful Disaster Chapter 11

 Chapter 11

Ireland, (1800’s? Check date for later)

                I listen as the rain pours down in masses applauding in millions. Their ovation has been going on since the breaking light and here I am still listening with the moons’ company.  It’s orchestrated into high and low levels of sound converging into a mellifluous symphony.

                 It brings pleasure to the ear and relaxes my raw inflaming body.       

                It’s been a week since James brought me to the castle and I’m on a strict bed rest for my recovery from being poisoned. His bedchambers have become my home and prison; incarcerating me within its walls and trapping me with its boundaries. But it’s a place of extreme relaxation and sanitation providing me with a good recovery. 

                Maybe after that I can escape.

                In his bed I lay half nude, from overheating, letting my wings stretch to their full length. Due to the poison that had invested my body it has temporarily crippled them. Their white color still has the faintest bit of gray tainted in them. With the constant care I am receiving, I should be as good as new within the next few days.

                Probably then I’ll be escaping.

                Cianne, a royal vari healer amongst a few others, is taking the full responsibility of my care. With her serene presence, absurd sense-of-humor of the idea of men, and her incredible ability with healing remedies, I’ve have come to a liking of the young woman. James on the other hand, with his obnoxious optimism and carefree demeanor, is infuriatingly enough.

                On a few occasions in the past week he has this tendency to rudely interrupt or it just so happens appear at a time where I am never appropriate. He actually, at the given time, is a gentleman and casts his eyes away. But, men are men and all are highly prone to peek anyways. He’ll never admit it, however.

                James brings me breakfast, lunch, and dinner. After I have figured out the times schedule, I make sure to avoid the Irishman by going in and locking the bathroom door. Too bad these are his bedchambers and he has the keys to everything. Thank the vari he hasn’t caught me full nude. Hopefully not yet or even better, ever.

                  The moon ripens ticking away time into slow minutes. I lay here waiting for Cianne to come in for me to take her daily medication. A simple remedy juice crafted from a couple of rare plants and seeped with white magic. It’s bitter but it’s better than injection. She soothes out my wings and for an added plus massages my back.                          

                Admittedly I look forward to seeing her. Listening to her speak about how men are like commercials: sound good but you know its false advertisement. And gives good advice; never fall in love with a man who doesn’t love you. If I don’t know anything about men before, I sure do now.

                The door creeks open and expecting Cianne to glide right in, I hear a pair of boots pound on the flooring instead. I groan miserably as I quickly cover up my chest with my nightgown. It’s silk washing over my body like running water but in some way I still feel clustered and too warm.  

James, in all his masculinity, reminds me of a black jaguar at rest patiently waiting for the right moment to

attack. Those violet eyes lay fierce but holding within is a calm serenity. Black waves of hair are fastened back by a throng comfortably sitting in the nape of his neck. Dangling from his neckline is the golden locket with enticing tracings and beautiful gems carved within it. I often imagine where something so striking could have gotten to James himself.    
                He moves towards the large window as he sheds away his soaked shirt. Water drip-drops off every inch of him are forming a puddle at his base. Against his golden tone the water moistens his skin amplifying the tightened muscularity. It surges down his back beginning broadly and forming leaner hitting at his waistline.