Beguile

Chapter 79

And yet your beloved father sacrificed himself to get you out of the car, hoping that despite a massive glass peirced through your heart that you would survive.

He was saving you while he was getting burned.

You saw him. Smealt him as he slowly turned into dust.

I couldn't get the words out of my head. I couldn't scream. I couldn't move.

Just hearing that over and over again.

until they began to feel like the undeniable truth.

The next words are faint, as if it's not meant for my ears to hear:

I will keep you kind so youre easier to control.

I awoke to the warmth of sunlight filtering through and the comforting aroma of toast wafting in the air. My skin felt cleansed, devoid of any trace of dirt or cold. Instead, I was enveloped in the plush softness of a comforter that shielded me from the chill.

It was as if I had been transported back to a time before everything changed.

Opening my eyes, I found myself beneath an unfamiliar white ceiling adorned with a chandelier unlike any I'd seen in the dorms.

As I pushed myself up to scan the room, confusion gripped me. I had no idea where I was.

The room was vast, dwarfing even the largest dormitory.

There was no sign of dirt or the lingering scent of blood in the air.

It was immaculate—as if untouched by the bloodshed that had torn through my world.

My head snapped towards the door as it creaked open.

In stepped Lucas, carrying a tray laden with toast and a glass of orange juice. His smile, warm as sunshine, greeted me, bringing a semblance of normalcy to this unfamiliar place

"You're awake," he observed, setting the tray down on the bedside table. As he turned back towards me, his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Looks like you had a restful night," he remarked, playfully tousling my hair. His laughter filled the room, warming the space like the morning sun.

"Yeah, I had a dream," I replied, my gaze shifting between Lucas and the tempting plate of toast before me.

"A dream?" He noticed my lingering look at the toast and extended the plate closer to me. "What was it about?"

Taking a bite of the toast, I was greeted by a taste that seemed heavenly—fresh and warm, a stark contrast to the often cold meals we received.

"I..." Struggling to grasp the fleeting fragments of the dream, I found it slipping away like mist. It had felt significant, but the more I tried to recall, the more elusive it became. "I don't know," I admitted, flashing a smile and glancing at the glass of orange juice, silently conveying my desire to drink.

Throughout my meal, Lucas remained attentive—tucking a stray hair behind my ear, offering a towel to wipe away crumbs from my mouth.

His smile never wavered, a constant reassurance that he was there, ensuring my comfort.

"I'm stuffed!" I exclaimed, sinking back onto the pillow with my hands resting on my full stomach. Letting out a yawn, I added, "And so sleepy."

"That's not good. You've just woken up. You'll end up sleeping the day away," Lucas cautioned, gathering the used plates onto the tray.

"But I'm really sleepy," I protested, pulling the comforter back over me. This sensation of warmth and safety felt almost foreign, a stark contrast to the gritty reality of dust-laden blankets and the lingering scent of blood.

Gone were the days of constant vigilance against potential intruders.

"How about this?" Lucas held out his hand, revealing a handful of candy wrappers.

"What's that?" I asked, curiosity piqued as I sat up to get a closer look.

"Coffee candy. It'll help keep you awake."

"Oh my! You still have these?" I reached out to grab one, treating it as if it were a precious treasure.

"You didn't think I'd forget, did you? You used to stuff your face with this," he chuckled.

"Hey!" I playfully jabbed his shoulder. "Its because you kept giving them to me!"

His laughter enveloped me, filling my heart with warmth. It was as if we had stepped back in time, to a world where everything was as it used to be.

"But I think I'll stick to actual coffee. You know, the strong, dark kind—that'll really keep me awake—"

I glanced up, only to find his expression had soured.

"Lucas?" My grip tightened around the candy wrapper, sensing something was amiss.

Gently, he disentangled my hand from the candy wrapper, enveloping it with his own. Despite the tension shadowing his expression, his touch was tender as he pressed a kiss to the back of my hand. "You don't drink coffee, remember?"

His fingers curled around mine, his touch belying the storm in his eyes.

"I thought I could try now," I ventured, mistaking his earlier expression for a figment of my imagination. "With everything going on, I've felt this urge to try new things."

"No," he countered softly. "It's bitter. Like me, you don't like anything bitter."

My heart raced, my fingers trembling around the candy wrapper I clutched. A sudden realization dawned upon me—I shouldn't drink coffee.

"I guess it's just the chaos making me want to experiment," I mused, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling.

He chuckled, reverting to his usual, comforting self. "Don't worry. Just trust me, and everything will be alright."

As he tightened his grip on my wrist, the mattress dipped under his weight as he leaned closer. "All you need to do is be with me, Princess," he murmured, tracing a finger along my jawline before capturing my lips with his.

His lips were warm, soft, and genuine, reminiscent of the sunshine that he embodied.

I found myself lost in the sensation, unable to get enough of him. His movements were deliberate, his lips gently caressing mine as if savoring each moment, each sensation.

This was unlike any desire I had felt before.

It was the kind that would tickle me from the flutters of colorful butterflies.

Those that wont bite.

I yielded to the embrace of his arms, the warmth of his breath teasing my lips.

He pressed his forehead to mine, his gaze unwavering and intense. "As long as you trust me," he murmured, "everything will fall into place. You'll see the world as I do—and you won't want to turn away."