Under The Sea

Chapter Thirty-Two

It felt as if with each throb of my head, a wave of fatigue would wash over me. It took a tremendous effort for me to even lift my head; my eyes were droopy; my body ached to no end; it was the beginning of death. I laid, slumped against the wall, weak and unworthy; although my heart beat hard with hope.

Mason talked on and on about his victories, conquests, and meetings: "I couldn't believe that he thought he could steal from me! But he got what he deserved." I had no idea who he was talking about or why he was even talking to me in the first place. My mind was focused on staying awake, even the fear I felt wasn't enough to keep my dehydrated body alert.

"You look tired princess." He observed stupidly, as he walked up to me and kneeled down to my level. I nearly flinched from his close proximity, but managed to keep a weak poker face, not wanting him to ever be satisfied with my fear.

"Looks like I might have hit you too hard." Shifting my shaking hands away from his view, I looked him straight in the eyes attempting to be fierce and determined; indefatigable, no matter what he did to me. He flashed me a smile full of the malice and recklessness that reflected his personality.

Clearing my throat did no good to prevent the hoarseness from seeping into my voice. "Water?" Just the thought of the clear substance was enough to send my body into overdrive. I had never desired something so importunately before.

"What's the magic word?" His haughty manner was also enough to make me want to hit him, but unfortunately I was utterly defenseless. I had two options; first: say the magic word and potentially surrender all of my dignity while simultaneously giving him the satisfaction he didn't deserve; second: keep up my fake fierceness and slowly torture myself by intently depriving my body of what it did deserve, there was also the possibility of dying within the next week. Poseidon help me.

Aran would say I would be no good to my kingdom if I were dead; he'd tell me to build trust, after all aren't we supposed to keep our friends close and our enemies closer?

Pondering this, I chose the former, "Please."

Mason now radiated the excitement that came after success, "music to my ears," he said before santering over to the big door that kept me locked in. I sensed the water before I saw it; a tiny cup, slightly bigger than a bottle cap, held barely enough water to keep me alive for another week. How nice of him, I thought bitterly. He placed the small cup to my lips and I drank the small amount greedily.

My body immediately felt more alive and less fatigued. I was able to lift my head up and even shift my aching neck from the position it had been stuck in; a relieved sigh escaped me. Now I was ready to speak what had been on my mind for the last couple of days I had been stuck with him.

"Why did you leave the pack, you would have been the Alpha." I blurted. Before the room had been silent, a comfortable kind of silence like the kind you felt when you laid in bed thinking over the good and bad life had presented to you that day. Now, the silence was eerie and almost suspenseful, like the kind you felt when you were alone but felt that somehow, someone was there with you, watching.  When he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, I thought I had possibly made the worst decision yet, and started to curse my curiosity, but then he spoke up:

"My father didn't really give me a choice. I can't shift into a wolf like every other werewolf can, and in my father's eyes, that made me unsuseptible to be Alpha. After my sister," there was care in his eyes when he spoke of her, "died, he accused me of murder and then privately banished me from the pack, my own father. He couldn't accept that I was different, it didn't have to be a bad type of different, but to him any different was the bad type."

By the end of his explanation he had stood up passionately, his body riveting with hate, "he thought I was an anomaly! That I was dangerous! That I murdered my sister!" I was struck with an incredible amount of shock; it crawled up my spine and coated my face. Aran and Mason both told very different stories, and I found myself feeling as if I were stuck in the middle. Of course, I was almost positive Aran was telling the truth, or perhaps didn't know the whole truth.

"Did you?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Not because I feared the anger that would come, or because I thought he might hurt me, but because of the vulnerability I saw attacking him. Suddenly he was a little boy being accused of stealing cookies from the cookie jar; he looked down, averted his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was as  rough as sand paper.

"I didn't really do it. . .I just snapped and. . ." He shook his head as if he were trying to shake painful memories out. It was hard to believe that this was the same person that kidnapped me, and hurt me, and threatened me; this boy seemed more real than the other boy.

"You should have stayed. Aran cares about you, he would have helped you," I straightened my back when I sensed the familiar anger start to seep from him.

His voice lashed out at me like a whip, "Aran doesn't care about me, he doesn't even care about you." I forced my heart to remain strong.

"He does care." My voice was shaky and uneven when I said the words.

"After I left did he look for me? Did he try to do anything? No, he didn't. As for you, he cheated on you! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"His father made him believe that you somehow killed your sister in that car,  he put so much pressure on him after you left! Do not say that he didn't care." I knew I was avoiding my own problems and I was sure I would pay for it soon.

"Ah, don't you know that avoiding your problems only makes things worse? Aran doesn't care about you, you know why? Because you're weak, you already have a kingdom to rule so how can you be by his side? Looks like Aran's realized this and has already started looking for a replacement."

Even as I shook my head, a traitorous tear slipped out of the corner of my eye, "no you've got it all wrong, he'll find me, and when he does he'll kill you."

He brushed off my threatening words casually, as if he knew this already and had a plan. And then there was a knock at the door.

Mason gave a pleasing smile before calling out for the person to come in. The girl was strikingly familiar and almost a few seconds after seeing her, I recognized her; Talia, the same girl that had made it possible for Mason to catch me. She wore a playful smile on her face as she slowly tucked a blonde strand of hair behind her ear, and flashed her winter blue eyes at me.

"Princess, I'm sure you've recognized Talia as the girl who Aran decided was better than you. Talia is a warlock, or witch much like myself, and happens to be very persuasive and very interested in Aran. I'm counting on her to use her magical charms so that Aran won't care so much for you anymore. With her help, Aran will be out of our hair and soon enough, his feelings for you will vanish."

My heart was being attacked with horrifying emotions that I had never felt before; the fear like no other, a fear of losing someone you were potentially in love with. The tears fell with each crack of my heart, as I pictured Aran not knowing who I was, not holding me the way he did, not loving me or caring.

My gaze slipped back and forth between the two oppressors before me. "Y-you can't break our bond, he can't forget me, he won't."

"Your bond is not as strong as you may think it is. You and Aran aren't fully mated yet, so yes, the bond is entirely breakable, with the proper tools." Mason flashed Talia a confident smile.

She leaned down, blonde hair fell into both of our faces as her lips just barely touched my ear, "don't worry, I'll treat him well."

I cried out for Aran as they exited the room.