The Ring

022

A soft beam of golden sunlight had shined through the small circular window, and into Chrissa's half-opened dark eyes blissfully. She was wrapped comfortably in a thick comforter, and relaxation completely took over her body.

Chrissa then shut her delicate eyes again, as the entire world melted away for a second. It suddenly reminded her of her room back at the palace. How it had been decorated beautifully, with color schemes of light green, cream, and gold.

She peered over at a sleeping, silvered haired man. His eyelashes tampered against his pale skin as he was in deep slumber, and his arm was tucked comfortably around her waist. Chrissa carefully removed it, and smiled slightly at him, as a mix of anxiety twisted in her stomach.

When he wasn't opening his mouth and being terrifyingly annoying, he was actually very nice to look at, she thought. His bare chest was exposed, as it revealed the tattoos that had been stained beautifully against the white of his skin. Kandor's arms were lean and muscular, and his abs tight. Chrissa studied the artwork on his skin thoughtfully. Chrissa brought her hand up to his chest and lightly traced over the tattoos.

"You're obsessed with me," mumbled Kandor in tiredness, and an annoying smile on his lips.

Chrissa rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when she heard a knock on the door.

"Hey man, do you know where Chrissa is? She disappeared last night."

The girl's eyes suddenly went wide, as memories from the night before began to creep into her mind. She looked beside her and rolled her eyes at a smirking, silver-haired Vampire. Chrissa bit her lip and tore her gaze away from him.

"What's the matter?" He mouthed to her, with a stupid grin painted across his face. She glared at him. Chrissa wanted to scream. To shout. But she couldn't risk making noise and having Michael find out about what she and Kandor did. She wasn't ready for it. She didn't think she'd ever be ready for it.

"Closet," she mouthed to Kandor, as her eyes had landed on the other door in the room.

He rolled his eyes at the interaction but nodded his head. Michael banged on the door again and had said something else but Chrissa hadn't been paying much attention. She stood up from the bed, grabbed her clothes from the ground, and scurried quickly into the closet. Her hand gripped the doorknob and she shut it carefully behind herself.

"What do you want from me, Michael?" Asked an unamused Kandor, when he opened the door.

He had been dressed in Fae knight attire, the same clothes he'd worn the night he rescued Chrissa. He'd cleaned them of course at the Manor, but a part of him felt forever loyal to the Fae. It was in his blood, and a part of him would never forget it. All he could focus on was Chrissa. The Knight attire reminded him of her, and the night that they met. It was the night that changed everything, and the night that he'd fallen in love for the second time in his entire life.

Chrissa reminded him of his own mother at times, before she passed. Beneath her hard layer of defensiveness held an entire world of compassion, warmth, and love, which Michael loved to often unravel and see. With her gone, it felt as if a part of him were missing. He'd grown attached to her soul like fire to smoke.

"Where is she?" He demanded, with folded arms.

Kandor half shrugged, as he walked over to the nightstand beside the bed. He then picked up an elegant looking bottle, and twisted the cap open. "Like I know," he spoke, and poured the thin red liquid into the glass cup beside the expensive-looking bottle.

Michael squinted his eyes and threw his head back, "you must think i'm an idiot."

"Define idiocracy, what is it, really?" Kandor spoke and brought the glass up to his lips. When he saw Michael's expression he chuckled, and set the cup back down on the nightstand, and turned to him. "The boat has been parked at the dock for quite some time. Maybe she left because she needed some alone time. After all, didn't she say you treated her like a child?"

Michael shook his head in annoyance. He'd dealt with a lot of people in his life. Something about Kandor was throwing him off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "There's something you're not telling me," he spoke, as he dropped his folded arms, and took a step closer to him. "What is it?"

"Well I've gifted you with my commentary." Kandor spoke again, with a dry laugh. He narrowed his eyes, "now rummage elsewhere. You're interrupting my morning routine."

Michael rolled his eyes, "whatever. I'm wasting my time."

"Always a pleasure seeing you," Kandor responded sarcastically at him, as Michael walked out of the door and slammed it shut. "And I thought I had a flair for the dramatics," spoke Kandor with a chuckle, when he walked over to the closet and opened the door.

The closet revealed an angry Chrissa. Her eyebrows were knitted together, and she shook her head at him, as she pulled up her skirt. "Why did you express to  him that I feel he treats me like a child?" She exclaimed, as she walked out of the small space and placed her hands on her hips.

Kandor rolled his eyes, "It's simply the truth, is it not?" He smiled slightly, "you spoke it yourself earlier, princess."

She then glared at him, "d-don't princess me. And we aren't together," she told him with venom, but then she froze for a second as she locked eyes with him, and looked away. "Kandor...last night was a mistake and-and I must go."

Kandor sped in front of her where the door was. His eyes searched hers and his expression grew serious, "mistake?" He asked, his voice made her feel like chocolate did; warm and sweet. Her eyes shifted into his gray ones, and then shifted down to his built tattooed chest again.

Chrissa then shook her head and pushed him away with force. "I regret every second of last night. We shouldn't have done...that. It was very unbecoming, and-and wrong."

Kandor threw his head back and scoffed. He took a step back as if someone had shot him in his chest, "unbecoming? You said that you didn't think I was a monster," Kandor seethed and narrowed his eyes whilst he gazed at her in longing. "You kissed me."

"You asked me to," she said dismissively, not looking at him. "And besides," Chrissa scoffed, "I'd rather not exist as your mistress."

He laughed dryly and walked over to her. "Oh, you know that's nonsense," he looked at her seriously, "I could never dream of such a thing..." he trailed off, while he gazed longingly into her eyes. It was the way he looked at her the night before.

With Michael, he gazed at her with love and nothing more, but with Kandor there was obsession, and the pain of longing. It was a gaze she didn't understand, but it made her terribly vulnerable to him, like an addict almost. She wanted to try it again and again. She didn't understand how a person could want and crave her so much. How a man could want her so much that he'd curse her with immortality, so she could be forever frozen in a world with him. A man who remembered the one thing about her that many never noticed. He had been art, in the midst of a storm. Her favorite sensation, her most favorite color.

She uncrossed her arms and pressed her lips together. "I have to find Michael," Chrissa spoke, as she turned around to open the door. As her hand rested on the knob to twist it, she felt the heat of Kandor's body behind her. He placed his hand over hers and spoke to her in a low voice, "don't go."

She shook her hand away from his and turned to where she could face him. Chrissa felt torn between two worlds, and both felt and tasted so good. One felt like pure sin and exhilaration and fulfilled her and pulled her into a void of pleasure, and another fed a deep need within her that she loved and associated with a deep comfort that she'd never felt before. But she had to be logical. Her and Kandor would never happen. It wouldn't work. She hated him, right?

Chrissa shook the thoughts away and gazed up at him through her eyelashes. She had to be strong. She wouldn't let her emotions take over.

"This started in this room and it ends right now. Leave it be." Chrissa said simply, but then her expression grew serious, "and Michael must never know. Ever. I-It was wrong."

"Christabell–"

"No," She said with force as she shook her head, and left the room.