Blood Red | Bellamy Blake (1)

Chapter 4

Day 3

The sun was high in the sky when Cheyenne woke up the next day. Clumps of her dirty dark hair were draped over her face and her left hand was numb from where she'd been sleeping on it. Sitting up, she pressed the covers to her chest and looked around the tent. The disorientation faded, reminding her where she was and why. Bellamy was nowhere to be found in the tent, but she had expected that once she realized that it was already afternoon. As if her thoughts had summoned him, the tent flap was pushed open and he was there, brown eyes drinking in the sight of her still naked in his bed. He crouched next to her and brushed some of the hair back from her face, ignoring the flinch brought on by his hand moving too quickly.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked. A cup of water in his other hand was given to her. Her nod made a smile tug at his lips, one that made his eyes squint. "Me too; I was going to wake you up this morning, but you looked like you needed the sleep."

The half full cup of water was set aside and her now free hand brushed against the side of his face. Red streaked across his skin from her fingers, but didn't stay. "I'm sorry I overslept."

This brought a chuckle out of his throat. "You can sleep as long as you want. You can do whatever you want. There are no rules here." The tone in his voice was mocking but not at her. His thoughts drifted back to what he'd done to Atom the night before.

"There are always rules, Bellamy." Her head leaned forward to rest on his shoulder. "Even if you don't know them yet, they're still there."

Day 5

Cheyenne stepped carefully up the ladder of the dropship with one arm wrapped around a basket of berries. Octavia had made the basket and given it to Cheyenne so she could collect edible plants while wandering the forest during the day. Finally finding Clarke, she pushed the basket away from the edge and hauled herself the rest of the way up the ladder. Wells, Finn, and Monty were watching as Clarke heated a knife in the small fire. The three males were already holding Jasper down, waiting for Clarke to make a move.

"Annie, come here, and hold his head still, please," Clarke said, breaking the surprised stupor. Though she had phrased it like a request, the was no room to tell her no. The nickname surprised her, too. No one had ever given her a nickname before.

"I brought you something to feed him. The berries can be crushed up like past for him to swallow," Cheyenne said quietly, doing as Clarke said. She shed her sweatshirt before moving her arms to cradle the top of Jasper's head against her chest. There was a silent moment before she glanced up and realized everyone was staring at her. "What?" she barely breathed, immediately uncomfortable with being the center of attention.

It was Finn that responded first. "Is someone hurting you?" he asked plainly. His eyes raked down her throat and the top of her chest where her tank top hung, horror affecting his features. Old and fading bruises had been replaced with new darker ones from the nights she spent with Bellamy.

Cheyenne shook her head in the negative, dropping her eyes back down to look at Jasper's pale and sweating face.

"Are you sure? That looks pretty rough." Wells moved around Jasper to reach for her wrist, which was also bruised, but recoiled when she flinched away. "Cheyenne, you didn't have these marks our first night here."

"I'm fine, really. No one is hurting me," she whispered. Her eyes met Clarke's across the injured body before them. "I would tell you, Clarke."

Clarke nodded, eyeing her up again before resuming her earlier actions. "Alright, Wells, get over here and hold him."