Taking What's His

Chapter 8

Tendrils of my hair stuck to the bright white material of his sweater as I pulled away from him, knowing I had been embracing him but unable to feel his warmth or the pressure of his touch. I couldn't feel anything, nor the floor beneath my feet, nor the beating of my heart quickened by his presence, nor the large tan hand that cradled my cheek. All I could feel was the gentle content being in his presence had always brought me. Like he was my barrier against all the stresses and worries of the rest of the world.

His face was blurry, I could just about make out that he was smiling down at me, saying something but I couldn't make out what. All I could do was stand there as strands of my dark hair slowly dropped away from his sweater.

Suddenly his hand was on my shoulder, I heard more than felt myself gasp at the sudden searing heat compared to the absence of feeling from before. He slowly began to fade away though his grip on my shoulder remained tight, taking with him the content warmth blooming in my chest. I opened my mouth to call out to him, reaching out to stop him as he faded into a blur of tan and white but suddenly everything went black.

I opened my eyes, blinking away the drowsy bleariness of sleep only for his face to come into focus. All sharp edges and bright colours that I'd come to hate despite how dizzyingly beautiful they may be.

"Time to wake up baby. Were you dreaming about something nice?" He asked, red lips quirking into a small smile as he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was deeply inhaling my scent. I pulled away from the touch that had cruelly pulled me away from the wonderful image my brain had conjured so I could finally feel the peace he was currently getting high off of sniffing, and completely ruining.

I gave a small nod, avoiding his eyes, hoping he wouldn't ask but knowing he would. I wondered what would happen to that smile if I were to mention the name of my fiancé?

"What about?"

"A white sweater." I answered, looking directly into the bright amber eyes that always seemed to be on me. His brows furrowed for a moment and I felt a brief flash of amusement at his expense. Hopefully if he thought I was insane he'd decide he could do better and leave me alone.

"I ordered Indian food, I hope that's okay."

He seemed to have come to the conclusion that he wasn't going to get much more out of me and given up. I shrugged in response, my poor appetite hadn't gotten better. If anything it had gotten worse.

At least for my first few weeks here I had been able to cry myself to sleep at night, but now I lay tense and wide awake in the stiflingly warm embrace of my captor night after night. Only when the sun came up would my eyes droop closed for what felt like seconds before he was awake. My body somehow sensing the danger and instantly waking me up so I would be conscious as he pulled me impossibly closer, kissing my forehead and acting as though we were some lovesick couple.

I felt numb, and though I had never weighed less since hitting puberty, my limbs felt impossibly heavy. Food held no appeal, nothing here did. Everything, including him was loathsome. Instead of being sad I was aggravated, I'd taken to biting the inside of my cheek to keep from saying things to him that would get me five claws digging into my internal organs. There was a constant wound in my right cheek from the biting, spicy curry would be a right delight today.

I tucked my legs up to my chest, hoping he would leave me alone in favor for returning to the paperwork he had been bent over since he had forced me to come sit in his office. I'd grabbed a book off the shelf to give myself something to look at other than him.

"Food's here." He said suddenly, holding a hand out to me to help me up. I kept my gaze lowered as I stood up, hoping it would seem as though I hadn't seen his hand despite him having thrust it right before my face.