Текст книги "Shards of Us"

Автор книги: K Caverly

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter Seven

Sebastian doesn’t return until dinnertime. I'd think he's pouting if I didn't know better, but I heard his car leave the house for a few hours, so I assume he's off to see if the men are coming.

While he's gone, I spend my day looking for escape routes. Unfortunately, there are none. At all. The tiny window in the bathroom is blocked by prison bars, and the thick marble walls are so sturdy that even hitting them with a metal chair does nothing. I try the door, too, but it's also marble and totally solid, and without a wire of some sort I can't pick the lock. There is no way to break through the ceiling, and the solid marble floor is too hard to dig through.

There is absolutely no way out, I realize to my absolute horror. The only way is unlocking the door with Sebastian's keys.

Defeated, I slump back into my seat at the end of the table and eat the lunch he left me, feeling sick to my stomach the whole time.

I wonder what my parents would say if they saw me now. Me. Their idiot daughter who fell for a man she didn’t even know, and is now here: locked up in someone else's safe house and possibly going to be killed or tortured herself.

I am pathetic.

No, I'm worse than pathetic. I wanted to love Sebastian so badly, wanted him to love me back, wanted to find happiness for once in my life that I just became too trusting, and then bam. This happened. And now I hate myself for it. I hate the world for not even giving me a little bit of happiness. I hate that the second I see a shred of goodness in my life, whenever I reach for it, I just fall deeper into this never-ending hole.

My parents would be so disappointed. They were so successful when they were alive, loved by everyone as such great sports agents, and look at me. I'm nobody. I can't even get a real job. I can't even have a real friend without it going bad. And now I'm paying for it. Without knowing what to do, I reach for the plate on the table and hurl it against the wall. It shatters into a million pieces, a few of which return to cut at my arm. When I see the blood, my legs go weak, and I just crumple up and cry some more.

I feel so pathetic.

So. fucking. pathetic.

Sebastian returns a few hours later, after I've showered and cleaned myself up and covered up the dried tears. I sweep up the plate, fix my bed, and lie there for a while, looking up at the ceiling filled with various Ancient Greek-esque paintings, wondering if I'll ever get out of here.

I'm still thinking that when I hear a click at the safe house door, and Sebastian steps inside. I sit up, watching him carefully, making sure he doesn't pull anything. The room is dark, but I can see the tired look in his eyes even from here, the way the dark circles are carved beneath him. He's been worrying, I realize. Worrying, for me.

"Angel," he says. He's still wearing his dark suit and bowtie, and his dark hair is cropped back and freshly cleaned, like he just came from sort of business meeting or something.

I don't respond as he approaches. Don't say hello or anything. I only glare at him, hoping he'll leave, but he doesn't. He walks all the way up to me, his blue eyes softer than ever, focused on me. He stops when he reaches my bed, breathing slowly in and out, looking down at me. I can feel his warmth wrapping me up, can feel his body right in front of mine. "How are you?" he says quietly after a few minutes.

My muscles tense up.

That's it. That's all he says. He stands over me in bed, his breath by my lips, asking me how I am. I open my mouth to laugh at him, but his voice sounds so genuine, so full of concern, that I don't have the heart to do it.

I don't understand why he cares, but curiosity gets the best of me, so I decide to answer him. "Not well," I say, looking at my hands, and it's the truth.

He shifts closer to me, resting his body on the edge of the bed. His eyes are still focused on mine, so warm and caring and worried it makes my heart hurt. His side is now inches from my face, the heat from his body pulsing through the air. I sit up and edge away from him, just to be safe.

"I wish it didn't have to be like this, you know," Sebastian breathes, watching me sadly, as if he hates himself for making me distrust him so much. "I wish this wasn't my only choice."

I don't say anything at that. I only look at him, searching his eyes to see if he's lying. Strangely, it doesn't feel like he is. I hate myself immediately for thinking it, though. I mean, he's just trying to trick me, right? He's just trying to gain my trust so he can screw me over later, isn't he? And as much as I want to believe that's the case, I know, deep down, that it isn't. I know Sebastian well enough to tell he is telling the truth.

Sebastian reaches out a hand then, still looking at me, his fingers dangling by my hair. I flinch immediately, and he sighs. "May I, angel?" he asks softly, his voice filled with concern. I start to tell him no, to tell him to get the hell out of here, but the words refuse to come. My throat is too choked up, my voice too hurt from my screaming. So, I take a breath, and I nod.

Sebastian looks at me knowing, then hesitates as he moves his fingers throughout my long hair, expertly touching me, guiding his way across my skin. Something about the way he rubs my hair is so calming, and it makes me want nothing more than to close my eyes and fall asleep to it, to him touching me.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask at last. My voice is so quiet, so strained, it's like it isn't even there. "If you really are just trying to protect me from those men, why do you have to lock me up? Why don't you trust me enough to stay by your side?"

He sighs at my question, but doesn't say anything. He just continues to run his fingers through my hair, with his breath on my lips, his side touching mine. I listen to the hum of the heater around me, to the distant chirping of birds just outside this safe house. I let myself relax with Sebastian this close to me, let myself breathe slowly, in and out, in and out. I know I shouldn't feel safe with him. I know I shouldn't trust him. But for whatever reason, I… I do. Or at least, I don't have the energy to fight him off right now.

"I wish I knew the answer to that," Sebastian says at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I've learned that trust has nothing to do with it. People you love get hurt all the time, no matter what you do, no matter how much you plan. And I've lost so many people, angel. I've lost so much that I'm fucking sick and tired of seeing those I care about get hurt. I don't want that to happen to you too," he whispers. "So I'm just trying to keep you safe, through the only way I have left."

There's a pause as soon as he says it, and I listen to the beat of my heart, to the longing in his voice. Sebastian doesn't move any closer to me, doesn't try to pull anything, which takes me off guard. He isn't even looking at me anymore. His eyes are focused on the door to the safe house, like they're the gateway into another dimension only he knows about. He just keeps running his hand through my hair, giving me my distance, sighing sadly. "I'll let you out as soon as you're safe, angel," he says after a while. "I promise you that much."

Then he opens and closes his eyes and starts to stand up. The bed groans from the shift in weight, as Sebastian pulls off of it. He stands up and starts to brush his suit off, looking at me the whole time with those sad blue eyes of his. "I'm sorry," he whispers, shifting his jaw so he's looking directly at me. "I hope you know that I'm sorry."

* * *

Sebastian leaves again the next day, this time for almost twelve hours. I don't do anything all day but lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling, replaying our last conversation again and again in my head. As much as I wish it weren't true, a part of me is starting to believe Sebastian. A part of me realizes that he really does care about me, that in the end, he's just a broken man in love, a man who wants to protect me, wants to love me, but doesn't know how to show it. He's been hurt before; he's been hurt so much, that he doesn't want to take any chances on my safety.

And I know I can't ever really be with him, can't ever really like him after he locked me up like this, but I still find myself feeling for him. I still find myself understanding him, or at least trying to, as much as I wish I wouldn't.

I lie in bed all day, just thinking, just hoping, just longing for a way out.

I don't move when I hear Sebastian's car pull up a few hours later. Or when the door flings open. Or when I hear his angry cursing. I don't move when he races right up to me, his eyes filled with need and hunger. I don't move as he wraps his arms around me and lifts me out of bed, then places me gently onto the ground beside him.

Immediately, I step back. My body starts shaking. I know full well not to trust him. I keep my back pressed to the bed, ready to run in case he tries anything. "What are you doing?" I whisper cautiously, waiting for his reaction.

Sebastian's eyes stay on mine as he whispers, "Something I should have done long ago." His voice is filled with need.

I stop.

Need… for me.

He takes a step closer, not looking away. Heat radiates from his body and wraps around me, like I'm engulfed by flames, and as much as I should want to back away, to get the hell out of here, I can't. I just stand there, looking into his eyes, not knowing what to say. I'm rooted in the spot. Rooted… and a part of me would rather be nowhere else.

"I need you to do something for me," he says in a low voice, his eyes searching mine, and in my mind I'm back in the hotel room, with his lips by my ear as he whispers his stories to me. "Do you think you can do that?"

"What do you want?" I say quietly. I know fighting him is no use. I know I'm his prisoner, I know he's controlling me, and I know protests will help nothing.

He takes a deep breath, not once taking his eyes off of mine. "I need you to dance for me, angel."

I freeze. My eyes focus on his to see if he's lying. "Huh?"

"Dance for me," he repeats, not hesitating for a second.

I start protest. The doctors said I could never dance again, not without risking hurting my leg for good, and I'm sure as hell not dancing for Sebastian of all people. "No, I can't–"

"I know you used to dance," he says. His voice is urgent, demanding. "And so I'm asking you, to dance for me just this once."

I open my mouth to argue some more, but then I see the need in Sebastian's face and I know I can't say no. "Okay," I say softly. I hate myself so much for agreeing to it, but somehow, I don't want to fight this. I want to dance–I want to find a way to escape this place, even if it's only for a few seconds.

"Good," he says, then holds up a CD player. "Which song?"

"Swan Lake." I don't take my eyes off of his as his hands move to turn on the song. There's a click, and then the quiet melody fills the air.

"Dance for me, my angel," Sebastian whispers again, and I look into his eyes, and I feel the tears glistening in mine, but I do, I do, I do. I move into the middle of the dark room under Sebastian's watchful gaze, and I dance. The song is slow and gradual, full of longing and need for escape, and I suspend my right hand over my head, close my eyes, and let everything else fade away. My legs arch forward, then swing in a circle, and then I'm spinning, feeling nothing but the air wrapping around my body and the beautiful, beautiful peace of it all. I lean my head back, then drift forward to Sebastian, my movements graceful and easy. Everything hums as I dance, and all of the pain and the fear and the tears from before seem to fade away.

The tempo picks up, growing deeper and darker, and I find myself dancing faster, faster, faster. My body follows such simple movements, my legs propelling me forward and making me spin in a circle, my arms arched on either side of my body. I feel so relaxed when I'm dancing, and even in the dark room under Sebastian's watchful gaze, dancing frees me. Dancing makes me whole again.

Finally, in between a spin, I look up to meet Sebastian's stare–just for a second. His blue eyes are filled with something deep and broken, trained on me, and suddenly all I want is to be near him again.

I can't explain it.

I can't even begin to make sense of it.

Sebastian has made me his prisoner, and yet, I still feel drawn to him, I still want him and I don't even know why.

"Dance with me, Sebastian," I whisper as the music speeds up. I hold out my trembling hand.

He takes it without hesitation. It feels weird to touch him again, and I almost want to pull back, to stop this before anything happens, because I know wholeheartedly that I can't trust him. But still, I find myself… wanting to. Wanting to do this.

But it's too late, because then he is dancing with me, and we spin across the room, our bodies moving with each other effortlessly, like they're bound together by some invisible yarn. Everything about Sebastian is fiery, a light burning into my skin, but I can't stop wanting him. I lean my head back and he catches me in his long, muscular arms, pulling me up and then spinning me around. We dance and dance until we can't dance anymore, until the music stops and it's just me and Sebastian, me in his arms, panting and sweating and trying to focus on my breathing. All of the air seems to be sucked out of the room. Everything but the pulsing of our bodies and the heat and tangled desire disappears. It's just us and the music, and I can feel myself drawing closer to him as we dance, can feel myself wanting him, even after everything he has done to me.

By the time we stop, Sebastian holds me in his arms. My breathing comes in slow pants, my skin as sweaty as his is, but I can't look away from him. I'm lost in the beautiful blue in his eyes, in the closeness of his body to mine, and all I want to do is push on the space between us until there is nothing there, nothing but his body. He holds me in his arms with surprising grace. My back is bent backwards, but he keeps me from falling by holding me in in his arms, leaning forward so that his mouth is only inches from mine. Sebastian's breath comes in slow gulps. I feel the tingling and heat crawling into my skin at the possibility of kissing him, and I concentrate on the silence of the room, the way both of our bodies feel so connected as we danced. I can still hear the music in my ears even though it's long gone now.

All of my instincts are screaming at me to pull away, to push him off of me and try to get out of here, to not feel anything but hatred for him, but the rest of me refuses. The rest of me wants this, this moment, this man. I can't put the feeling into words, but I find myself gravitating toward him despite myself, needing him in ways I can't possibly express.

I know it's wrong. I know none of this makes any sense. But something about this man… something draws me in. Something makes me want to trust him, even though I shouldn't.

"I didn't know you could dance, Sebastian," I whisper after a minute in between breaths, my eyes fixated on his, drowning in the sea of his blue eyes.

He smiles, one of those sad, fleeting smiles of his. "You don't know a lot of things about me, angel."

And then he pulls me up so that I'm standing right next to him. Our mouths are inches away, hovering there. The music has stopped. The rain has stopped. Everything has stopped but this moment. It's just us in the darkness of the room, and I can barely see anything but I have enough senses to tell that all I need is right here in front of me, right here for my taking.

"Kiss me," I whisper despite my protesting instincts, and when he does, everything is fire. His lips are hot and passionate, urgent even, like kissing me is the air he needs to survive. I kiss him back, harder and harder, and he matches me, and I don't even know what I'm doing but I can't bring myself to stop, either. My arms go around his body and his slip down my back, moving lower and lower, faster and faster. Kissing Sebastian feels wrong in every possibly way, and yet, so, so right. I press myself closer to him, moaning as he trails his kiss down my neck and toward my breast. He teases me at first, moving his mouth around the arch of my breast, and I feel the tingling race through my body as he, finally, kisses me there. My head goes back, and his mouth moves lower and lower, ever so slowly, down my stomach. I feel the pressure building up inside of me, feel my stomach gets hotter and hotter the closer he gets to me. I need him, I need him so bad, and I moan at the thought of him going there, at the desire that pulses throughout my body. But when he reaches the space between my inner thighs, Sebastian stops. His lips don't move. I moan again, wanting him to finish it, closing my eyes and falling back and back. "Do it," I whisper desperately. "Touch me there."

But he doesn't. He pulls back and stands up, blue eyes hard and passionate. "I can't," he growls. His breath is hot and thick, and I can see he wants to touch me there–touch me everywhere–but is holding himself back.

"Yes," I gasp, the need racing through me. "Yes, you can."

"No." He looks so conflicted as he shakes his head. " No. I don't deserve you, angel. I can't make you mine, because I don't deserve you. I've done bad things, really bad things, and I love you too much to let you fall for me."

My heart aches at his words. After everything, Sebastian is… scared of me? Scared of loving me? Scared of being with me? My hands shake. No. No. I need him. I need to have him. And in that moment, as much as I wish it weren't, I know it's the absolute truth.

"But I want you," I say, pressing myself up against him.

He looks up at me, shaking his head. "You're beautiful, angel," he says at last. His voice has this sad little edge to it, as if he's reminiscing about an old friend. "Did you know that?"

"You've told me, Sebastian," I breathe. I can still hear myself panting, but all of that seems to fade away now, because every part of me is focusing on Sebastian and how fucking much I want him. "You've always told me."

"I just wanted you to know," he says quietly. "I don't want you to forget that. Not ever." His voice is so quiet and meaningful that I can't turn away from him, no matter how hard I try.

"I won't," I promise, looking into those scorching blue eyes of his. "I won't ever."

"Good," he says in his same, rough voice. He looks like he wants to leave now, to be anywhere but near me. He pauses for a minute, not moving, our bodies intertwined for what feels like eternity. Finally, he sighs. "You know how I told you I locked you up here to save you… from the men?"

"Yes," I say slowly. I'm still reeling from what just happened. My hands shake at the realization that I almost let the man who locked me up in here go inside of me, and I wantedit.

I fight back a tear, self-hatred rushing in. What is wrong with me? How am I so desperate that I'd want the man causing all of my pain this badly? Oh shit oh shit. I can't want him. I can't feel anything but hatred toward him.

I bite my lip. Hard.

Sebastian's gaze is as intense as ever, trained on mine. "Well, it's true, those men do want to hurt you." He drops his voice to a hush, but it sounds so sincere that it catches me off guard. "But I also locked you up here so you could be protected from me," he whispers. "So we could be separated, and I could save you. From myself."

I stop. Stop moving. Stop wanting him. This is not what I expected I hear. "Why do I need to be saved from you?" I whisper. My hand starts shaking. "Who are you, Sebastian?"

He pushes me away, ever so gently. "I'm no one. I'm the man you can never want." Sebastian turns away at that and heads to the door, shaking his head back and forth and back and forth. "You don't want me, angel," he repeats quietly. "Trust me on that."

Then he reaches the door, swings it open, and steps through, slamming it behind him. But I swear to god I hear him add something on his way out, so quietly I think I might be dreaming: "Nobody wants me."