My Super Depressing Story About How I Became The First One

Chapter Thirty-one

I woke to the throbbing pain that racked through my head. The softness of my pillows and blankets sang their siren call to me, lulling me back to sleep. If it wasn't for my tenacious personality, I probably would have let them seduce me. But the events of the night stung as bad as the solid lump at the back of my head. I don't even know how I got to my bed.

I braced myself as I slowly peeled back my eyelids. The first thing to greet me was darkness. Shit! I'm blind! Panic hit me in the stomach until I started to notice things were starting to form shapes. Even in the darkness that saturated the room, I could tell it wasn't in fact my room. I could make out the outline of the grand elegant bed. It was almost as impressive as Cain's lavish.

Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the lack of lighting and I could take in my surrounds, or lack of. The room housed no windows and only two doors. That was it. Aside from the massive bed that I was sitting up in, there was absolutely nothing else in the room. Where the fuck am I?

I tentatively moved back the covers and placed my bare feet on the floor. The warm solid floor came to a pleasant surprise. Wherever I was, it was fancy enough for floor heating. After feeling around the walls, I finally came upon the light switch. The sudden assault of light flooded the room and I winced as my sensitive eyes protested.

The colour palette of the room made my head swim. It can't be. Oh, please tell me I am wrong. White upon white upon more shades of white. Malicai.

As if to answer my deepest fears, the cold that usually followed the King flowed through my veins, turning me to ice. I heard what sounded like a bolt slide behind the door. The door opened silently, and I was greeted by the most astonishing sight. Malicai stood in the doorway, dressed to impress in the most amazing tailored suit I have ever set my eyes on. Black strips of perfection hugged his masculine body with not a wrinkle in sight. My breath caught its self in my throat as I scanned over the eerie magnificence of a man that he was. I hated myself for even thinking about his beauty. But deathly beautiful he was.

He moved in, balancing a silver tray carrying what smelt like heaven, a tall glass of what I assumed would be the juice of oranges squeeze by angles or something ridiculous like that and a small vase holding one single blood red rose.

"Miss Jacobs," he said, his voice so seductive that I had to pinch my arms to remind me to keep it real. "I am glad to see that you are doing well. I do apologize about the hit to the head."

"Fuck Malicai you creep, if you wanted an audience with me you only had to ask." Yup that's me, king or not, you were going to hear about it if you kidnap me.

A small smile appeared on his porcelain face. Was he amused? "Miss Jacobs, I do not wish to have an audience with you."

"Well then, I guess that means I can go. Right?"

"No that will not be possible Miss Jacobs," he said, placing the tray at the foot of the bed.

"OK, so what the do you want?"

"Well it is very simple, I want you."

My body stilled with paralyzing terror. "Whoa. What? I think I miss heard that."

"No Miss Jacobs, I believe you heard me correctly. I want you, in fact, I wish to own you."

"This has to be a joke. There is no way in hell you can be serious. You can't own someone!" Even when I said it, I didn't believe my own words.

"I am dead serious Varnie."

Even in live or die situations such as this one, I still couldn't miss a good pun. He was dead serious, that was for sure.