Alara
I felt like I had been hit by a truck, repeatedly and then stabbed a few times for good measure, the pain in my head was blinding as my eyes flew open, the breath in my body rushing to get out in heaves and coughs and I felt bile curl up the back of my throat.
I woke and there was no one around, no one at all, no Cameron, no Dane, no one. It was a completely empty room, the walls bare and a vomit green colour, and I was on a foreign bed.
I was slowly but surely becoming very annoyed at waking up in strange places with no recollection of how I had ended up there.
This whole scheme reeked of Dane Laurier, and I was very disappointed in myself for not shooting him on site. I tried to rise from the bed, when I felt the bite of metal against my skin, I looked down at the shining loop of metal curled around my wrist handcuffing me to the bed.
I swore under my breath as I tried futilely to pull the cuff away from the bed frame but these weren't just the standard handcuffs that the cops carried around, they were reinforced with an extra layer of hardened metal and alloy I assumed, and it didn't have the traditional lock, no there seemed to be a thin layer of glass that glowed a faint blue, a fingerprint lock, so I had no way of picking it even if I did manage to pull on of my Bobbie pins from my hair.
I didn't even have time to wallow in my self-pity before the door was swung open and the last man I wanted to see strolled it. It seemed that all the men I hated had joined some sort of club, the Make Alara's life as difficult as possible club and I really, really wanted to abolish it. Burn it to the ground because this was the second time, the very person I wish was dead walked into my room where I was the prisoner of my own circumstance.
"Ah, Ms Mortello," I cringed at the cool voice, a full baritone that was smooth and had it belonged to anyone else I would have said, pleasant to listen to, "I hope you have rested well," my eyes which were brimming with hatred lifted to meet the broad frame of Mr Grayson, Cameron's father, who had blackmailed me and killed thousands of people just to get his hands on me, because of a stupid Blood Diamond.
A diamond whose history was dipped in the very blood it was named after.
I didn't speak, all I did was glare to convey how malignant I thought him to be, all he did was smirk at me, a slight dipped frown that was still somehow a smile, everything about him was intimidating and unnerving even the simplest movements of his lips could insight fear.
It was clear where Cameron got it from.
"No?" he pressed forward and I fought the urge to recoil against his advances, "Not feeling like speaking," he folded his arms behind his back, so his chest was bared before me, and if I had a gun that pressed white shirt would be painted with a pretty shade of red, "That's ok, Ms Mortello, I do not need you to speak, rather I need you to listen,"
I nearly spoke just to spite him but I knew I needed to find out what he was planning, and by the looks of it, he seemed to be the type that wanted you to appreciate his efforts, even as a captive this captor wanted to show off, and if I could use that to my advantage by merely biting my tongue I would do it a thousand times over.
"You broke our agreement, my dear," I didn't like the term of endearment somehow it tasted sour in the air, "You were supposed to marry Cameron yesterday,"
"And?" I could stay quiet no longer, "It's not my fault there's a bounty on my head, I'm pretty sure that's your fault,"
He ignored my statements, as though his whole speech was rehearsed and he hadn't anticipated any interruptions, "Had you married Cameron as planned, you would have had my protection, you would have been safe,"
"Safe?" I laughed incredulously rattling my arm against the cuff it clattered against the metal bedframe drawing attention to it, "Safe like this you mean? A prisoner? Fuck that,"
He tutted slightly and every little thing about him, each calculated movement, each practised word, each punctuated sigh, "Mind your language, my dear girl," and then all of a sudden he was far to close, I could feel his breath on my face, his own, inches away from me with dark malice in his eyes, "That mouth will get you in a lot of trouble, had you just listened we wouldn't be in this situation,"
And then he took a step back, remaining poised and proper the picture of professional, "You will be married today, and the contract will stand, you didn't hold up your end of the bargain so the terms will be reinstated, you will obey the word of a Grayson, you will be the dutiful wife, you will be my crown jewel, the Princess of the Vipers, and you will do it all without complaint,"
"Go to hell," I spat, not caring how uncivilised I appeared to him, I'd be damned if I let a man control me, especially a man as misogynistic as Carlisle Grayson.
"Oh darling," I flinched at the use of the word, only Cameron called me that, and when he did it led to a rush of butterflies beating their beautiful wings in the bottom of my belly, but when Carlisle said it, it felt like acid had been poured over my sensitive skin, burning and eroding until there was nothing but bone and blood, "You are already in hell."
He laughed maliciously, "You will belong to the Vipers, you will be our Diamond, you Alara will be our Blood Diamond until we retrieve the original, and the most perfect thing is that you have no choice but to listen to me,"
Fury raced through me as I lurched forward, feeling metal cut into my wrist as I tried to swing my other arm at Cameron's father, but the effort was futile, and what didn't help was the look of disappointment in his eyes that were far too much like the ones of the man I loved.
"Such violence for such a frail little thing," the disapproval in his voice sent me over the edge.
"Let me out of these cuffs and I'll show you just how frail I am," and with all the spite and disdain I could muster I added, "I dare you."