When Clarke storms through the door that evening the vexed expression on his face tells me all I need to know. His shoulders hold an amass of tension from the day's events, making them appear larger and bulkier than usual. And he looks rough. As if he's just vacated a boxing ring after a few unsuccessful rounds.
I'm not at all surprised to see Logan following behind sporting an impressive black eye. He gives me a half smile, wincing a little in obvious discomfort but still seeming satisfied with himself. Ezio is last to appear, unharmed I might add. Obviously, he didn't aggravate Clarke too much. Sensible.
Clarke and I's gazes meet and he says nothing before ascending the stairs.
"He'll get over himself," Logan assures me clapping me on the back in a very 'part of the gang' fashion. That doesn't sit well with me. Particularly taking into account that I need him amicable for my plans to work tonight.
Earlier I'd exchanged further correspondence with the mystery person willing to take me to my mother. A plan had been set in motion, and all I needed to do was take care of Clarke. That would be the easy part. I hope.
It's not long before the others decide to hit the sack. Akira is the last to go as he finally manages to tear his eyes away from the computer screen. Tucking it securely under his arm he turns to me.
"Are you avoiding going to bed?" He asks, that smarmy but cheeky grin present.
"No," I lie shifting my position on the couch.
"If you're worried about him, sleep in the guest room," he chuckles, one eyebrow raised towards the ceiling.
I don't need any further explanation of who he's referring to. Shrugging my shoulders I lift my hand to cover my mouth, faking a long drawn-out yawn.
"I'm not scared of him," I assure Akira, who chuckles again warmly before heading for the stairs himself.
Left alone, with only the dim light of a desk lamp, the cogs begin turning in my mind. My heart races as a heavy realisation overtakes me. I'm actually going to leave here. For good.
Tonight.
I can't suppress the rather overwhelming wave of guilt that floods over me. Not only that but deep sadness. For many days now the guys had been my only company. I know it wasn't through my own choice, but I'd witnessed their close-knit family-type bond, their ridiculous banter and a fair few emotions too. Maybe I'm stupid to even think it, but there's a part of me that will miss it. They were the closest thing to a family that I'd experienced in a long time. One of them is part of my family. Just one I never knew I had.
Being away from the gang will undoubtedly make me vulnerable.
But it won't make me weak.
Having endured everything in the past few weeks proves that I'm so much stronger than I ever believed. With my entire world thrown upside down, and learning my life has been full of lies and deceit. I could have given up a long time ago. But my burning thirst for answers drives my somewhat foolish actions.
With the strategy set out clearly in my head, I make my way upstairs. The bedroom light is on, confirming what I expected. Clarke's awake. Taking a deep breath I push the door just enough so I can slip inside. His eyes immediately find mine, watching my every move with firm suspicion. He sits up in bed, phone in hand, completely shirtless. Trying my damnedest not to stare at his godly physique and imagine what's under the covers I force a smile that I hope looks genuine.
"Hi," I squeaked meekly. That's a good start.
"Princess," he acknowledges me with a curt nod. "You're up late."
"Yeah. I slept most of the day away on that luxurious sofa of yours," I giggle keeping the mood light-hearted, "I couldn't drag myself away from it."
He nods again. Why does it seem he's already suspicious I'm scheming something?
"How are you?" I asked sidling up to the bed.
"Sore," he says simply with a frown, "thanks to you."
I furrow my brows clambering onto my side of the sheets. Clarke smells fresh and citrusy, he must have recently showered. I try not to let it deter me.
"How is it my fault?" I grumble back, raising an eyebrow at him.
He observes me for a second, with that piercing dark gaze before reaching down to grab the quilt. In a flash, he whips it away revealing his half-naked body. I can't help but release a squeal in response.
Well as he's inviting me to ogle his body I willingly oblige. My eyes cast down to examine his torso, golden with a couple of lingering rogue water droplets. I watch them slide down past his mouth-watering six-pack.
I hastily switch my attention to the location of his tattoo attempting to hide the flush of heat in my cheeks. Blinking to make sure I'm not seeing things I stare hard at the new ink. My name stares back at me in clear, if a bit wobbly, black ink under his hood's tattoo.
I blink several times more, raising my eyes back to Clarke's face. He's smiling sheepishly, making him appear innocent and much younger than he is.
"Oh my-! Holy shit," I gawk at his pretty face, "you're meant to tell people before you do this kind of shit, Clarke. We're not even in a relationship."
"What are you talking about?" He replies skimming the tips of his fingers over his tattoo and flinching.
The skin surrounding the tattoo looks puckered and red and the font appears like it's been scrawled by a ten-year-old. Not Bernards's usual artistry that's for sure. I guess it's difficult to immobilise that part of the body, tied down or not.
I drag my eyes away from it. I'd always sworn never to have anyone's name tattooed on me and vice versa. The satisfaction I feel knowing my name is branded on his body is sickening.
"You got my fucking name on you! Are you serious?"
"Didn't have a choice," he shrugs, "not just me, all four of us, well Akira will when he gets a chance."
"Why?" I question feeling confused.
Clarke gives me a small smirk, "because you're our contract, Princess. Signed in blood and ink."
"But I never asked for that," I retort back, swiping a hand down my face in frustration, "this is ridiculous. I've barely known you a month."
Clarke brings his hands to either side of my face, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs. His touch sends a jolt of electricity straight through me.
"And yet I am sworn to protect you. I would gladly take a bullet for you," he whispers, edging closer to my face.
"We're not in a bloody fairytale Clarke," I sigh rolling my eyes. But I can't help thinking that I wish we were, with a happy ending to top it off. Unfortunately, that's not how life works. Clearly not mine anyway.
"But we could be," he purrs in an animalistic tone that sounds very unlike him, "A very bloody one."
Before I know it Clarke captures my lips with his own. He presses his hand to the back of my neck deepening our kiss and I melt against his sweltering hot body. The swelling mound in his boxers tells me how eager he is to please me. I have to turn this around before it's too late. I can't allow 'that' to happen again. It's difficult enough to leave him as it is.
I gently push him away, forcing our lips to part and Clarke makes a sound like a wounded puppy. I pluck the handcuffs from the wooden dresser and dangle them on my index finger in front of him. Clarke eyes them up, raising both brows skywards.
"Do you trust me?" I ask simply, with a coy smile.
"Not an inch, Sweetheart," he quips instantly.
"Oh come on," I tease, "I'm the queen around here now," I chuckle prodding his hard chest.
"You can't be Queen until I'm the King, Princess," he replies. "One day we will get married, and then you'll be mine and we can run this world together," he adds, and I watch the spark of excitement light up his eyes.
I lick my lips.
"How romantic. Now shut up. You need taking down a notch," I insist whilst I snap the cuff around the wrist nearest me.
Metal eh? No one's fucking around now.
"You trying to tame me, Princess?" He smirks watching me as I thread the metal through the head of the bed, "because you best be ready for me once you let me go because I'm going to grind that ass of yours into the bedsheets."
I gulp securing the second cuff in place. With his hands now suspended above his head, poor Clarke will have been restrained twice in one day.
Once I'm sure he's not able to escape, I pull open the drawer once more. With my back to him, he can't see what I'm up to. If he could I'm pretty sure he'd be less than happy.
The masking tape tears easily with my teeth.
"Octavia. What are you doing?" He questions, his voice showing increasing suspicion.
I turn to face him and his eyes sweep to the piece of tape between my fingers.
"Octavia-" he tries to warn, but I shove the tape over his mouth before he can say anymore, patting it into place.
"I'm sorry Clarke," I whisper watching his eyes change as he realises he's very much fucked up.
He tries to talk through the gag but it just materialises as incoherent mumbling.
"But I need answers. And if you're not going to give them to me, I'll find out for myself."
Clarke's eyes are wide with a mixture of emotions, the sclera a stark contrast to the darkened room. He shakes his head vigorously from side to side in an attempt to communicate his complete disagreement. Then he yanks at the chain attached to the bed, glancing upwards at his imprisoned hands.
When he turns his gaze on me again his eyes flicker with rage. I don't need to see his mouth to understand how royally pissed off he is.
"Easy boy," I coax running my fingers through his damp hair, "I told you I'd never stop running from you, Clarke. You should have listened to me."
"Hmm-mph-" he growls furiously through the gag.
"This is my parting gift to you, a little revenge if you will," I explain giving him a coy smile.
I grasp hold of the waistband of his boxers and tug them down to his ankles. His huge hard cock springs free, standing to attention. My core throbs in wanting and I have to force myself to turn and leave the room. I don't look back over my shoulder as I run down the main stairs. I'm pretty sure after the stunt I just pulled Clarke would be conjuring up every possible method of torture for me for the rest of my living days. And those thoughts caused my legs to wobble beneath me.
The front door was wide open just as my mystery adversary had informed me it would be. I sprinted out into the open air and darted down the many stone steps. At the foot of the steps stood a male figure dressed in pure black. Next to him, was a motorbike shining in the glow of the moonlight.
I jumped onto the back seat without speaking a word, just as we had previously discussed via text. The male nodded and took his place at the front. Gulping down a lump in my throat I wrapped my arms around the mystery man. And we sped off down the road at speed.
It was at that point and that point only that I enabled myself to glance back at what I was leaving behind.
A/N- Here we go guys! This one was rather fun to write. Octavia has finally got one up on him =p. I hope you enjoy reading and don't forget to vote to show support.
Piccie of the beautiful Octavia above =]
Beth xxx