Embers (Burn #1)

Chapter Two; Maroon

His weight shifts, barely, as he leans down and runs his tongue down my neck. If it weren't for how demolished my purity already was, I'd shiver, pull away and slap him. But all I do is grit my teeth and stay still.

"I know you, Ebony. Know how much you crave my defilement. But you'll be begging for it, when I have you. And stop fucking forgetting who the fuck I am. I could have your brother in a shallow grave if I wanted-" my back arches at the sound of brother. It takes work but I lean forward onto my elbows to reply.

"But you won't. You may be exceedingly used to getting your desires, Damian. But you aren't stupid."

My leg hooks from under him, and like a dance, I slip back on top, straddling him. "I'll give you what you want Damian. A hard, fast couple of fuckings that you won't forget," my nail traces delicately down his neck and I dig into his groin, feeling his body tense under me. "But if I don't get what I want..." I dig my knee a little bit harder into his crotch and I hear him groan under me, tracing his bottom lip with my nail.

"I can't get ready, and I don't have a slutty enough evening gown," let alone any, "Be a good boy and send someone out to get me one? And some black lingerie. I look best in maroon," the words are dismissal, and as I swiftly get off of him, all he does is watch me with that peculiar gaze from the floor.

Let him.

---

Waiting. That's all I do anymore. It's a redundant cycle of relying on Damian to get me what I want. While every single pore and atom in me tells me this is wrong. That I'm digging my own grave and starting the violin at my own funeral.

The clock in the room here keeps ticking and it takes every damn nerve in me to keep from throwing a chair at it. It helps me keep track of time. Drags every second out.

Makes my breathing a living hell.

I could easily end it. But that's cowardice. To be to scared of life, too weighed down to save my brother. It's selfish.

Insanity makes people selfish, whispers that little voice.

It can't make up it's damn mind can it? One second it's 'oh don't kill yourself' the next 'do it'. Maybe it's gotten tired of breathing too. Of watching all my mistakes unfurl into a massive chaotic explosion.

And this isn't even the aftermath. This isn't even the ringing when the bomb goes off. This is the part where you should run for your life, but you stay put and hope you live to see the next day.

Except, I didn't want to live. I would get Xavier the fuck out. Damian or Cole would kill me. A heart string pulls as I think of Cole. He would make it slow. Damian... he would make it quick. Honor or painless?

Painless. My life has already been too saturated with pain to be filled any further.

It was a nuisance. Breathing, that is. A god damned nuisance.

My tense and dirty body demands something soothing, and I search for a bathroom. I find a room with one and slip in, stripping of my sticky clothes. The shower is complicated and it gives me a headache so I look for soap first. Shampoos are stuck in cabinets, unused and I figure this is a guest room. The flavors make my head spin.

You can't afford water. Let alone shampoo. Poor little meek girl. Poor little insane girl.

I grit my teeth and ignore myself while grabbing the apple and vanilla scented shampoo and tentatively getting into the shower. I mess with the knobs and handles, flinching when a rush of cold water comes down from the ceiling. I step back and wait for it to heat up, hugging my shivering body. When I step in, I moan, the water is a rush over my dirty body and I feel my muscles loosening. When was the last time I'd taken such a ridiculously luxurious shower? Cole. When the thought pops into my mind, I grab the shampoo and use my nails to dig it into my hair. I feel dirty, disgusting at the thought. I'm rubbed raw by the time I'm done and my body is still tense.