. . .
Andros Kozlov
There weren't many advantages of having parents who were feared by everyone who knew them. Except one - it taught me how to be ruthless. I knew what buttons to push, what words to say, and how to look.
In the starting years of my life, I had truly believed our parents were doing the best for us.
But then the Monets' came along. They didn't really talk to us at first, but we were eager to talk. Hedeon especially. He would ask them questions about the world and their family.
They indulged him. There were not many things to do back then. They told him about their father, how he wasn't cruel to them. They told him about their mother, and how she freaked out if they hurt themselves. Hedeon told me all of it with wonder in his eyes.
And then we wanted that. We wanted a family that would care in the way Monets' parents cared for them.
We did get that. They rescued us and adopted us. But, no matter how much they tried, I never felt like I was supposed to be with them. I was like a guest, sitting on the edge of the seat, looking at the clock, expecting to be asked to leave any minute.
"Andros."
I looked up from the knife I had been polishing. Hedeon was standing at the door, the chains in his hands. "Are you sure about this?"
I looked at the thick chains in his hands. They would be able to keep me down if I sleepwalked. There was no way in hell I'd be able to get out of them.
I didn't sleep much since what happened. And that was starting to weigh me down. I don't want to hurt Dahlia. This was a good way to make sure I wouldn't be able to.
"Yes," I said to him. "I'm sure."
. . .
Dahlia
I knocked on Andros' door, sipping the tiny amount of coffee that tyrant Lucian let me have every day. I wished I had never told them about the coffee thing. "Andros?"
I was here to rant to Andros. He was a bit more lenient.
"Dahlia." His voice was monotonous. I frowned. Why did he sound like that? The last time he had sounded like that was when...
Oh.
I opened the door.
He was sitting up, his arms pinned to his naked torso with huge, chunky chairs. His head was bowed, and strands of his hair fell over his forehead. I set my coffee down somewhere. My whole attention was on the man in front of me. His tattoos glinted in the soft golden light of his room.
He looked like a fallen angel. His wings were cut off.
"Andros?"
His head snapped up. Eyes blank and so, so beautiful. The green of them threatened to drown me. "Dahlia."
I approached him. He was sleepwalking. Well, not really walking. I think he would have been if his legs weren't chained to the bed, too. Right now, he was sitting on his knees.
"Hey." I was wary, but definitely not as much as I should have been. Hedeon and Andros had told me Andros was dangerous when he was sleepwalking.
But...he was Andros. I didn't know how to feel threatened by him.
I set my hand against his face. He blinked up at me, his face set in stone. My eyes fell on the scars on his neck. How had they replicated that? "Dahlia."
I looked at the chains around him. I didn't like seeing him like this. I hated it. I hated that he was cursed with this.
I touched his chains. His eyes followed my hand. His arms struggled in the chains. He didn't stop struggling. His muscles looked like they were going to break the chains at any moment.
I tried to find where the lock of the chains was. It was a giant lock. It needed a key.
"Dahlia."
I looked up at him.
I kissed his cheek. He stopped struggling. "I don't know where the key is."
He tilted his head. He shifted till his back was against the headboard. He looked down at his lap and then at me.
I frowned but climbed on his lap, anyway. The chains were cold against my skin and his skin was hot, but I wanted to be there with him. I wrapped the blanket around us, setting my head against his chained chest.
My eyes closed, and the last thing I heard was him again saying my name as if it were a prayer.
"Dahlia."
. . .
I stood aside as Hedeon unlocked Andros's chains, my arms folded against my chest and Andros' eyes on me as if he wasn't allowed to look away.
Hedeon threw the chains away. "It seems like you two have things to talk about, so I will set up the plates till then, hm?" He kissed my forehead and left.
Andros relaxed back on the bed, his shoulders resting on his pillows as he kept looking at me. "Well, did you curse him out for me?"
"I couldn't. He is cute."
"Baby, you should stay away from me when I am sleepwalking." He looked serious. "It's not me when I am like this."
"Have you always been a sleepwalker?"
He paused at the sudden question and then gently shook his head. "No. Not really. It started after Monets' father saved us. First, there were just nightmares. And then this bullshit started."
I walked closer to him. He held me beside him, tucking me under his arm. "In the beginning, it was harmless. But then it got more aggressive. I once tried to..." He looked uncomfortable. "I once tried to kill Monets' mother. She tried to get me off, but I wouldn't. Their father hit me across the face, and I woke up."
My breath hitched.
"After he hit me, I got even more aggressive. I made Hedeon be in the same room as me every time I slept. Then, Lucian and Alexandre offered to do the same."
"So, chains are not a new thing?"
"They.." he hesitates. "They are. I don't...I don't like chains. They're too familiar in the worst way. Our parents had a thing for thick rough chains that dig into our skin if we ever misbehaved."
He pulled me closer, squishing me against his chest. He dropped a kiss on my lips. "But, don't worry about me. Chains will keep everyone safe."
"But you hate them."
"It's not a big deal."
It was.
. . .
For the next few days, Andros slept with chains around him. I visited him every night. Sometimes he woke up and talked to me, sometimes he'd be sleepwalking and just say my name.
I spent my mornings with Alexandre, watching the sunrise.
I spent the lunch with all of them. Then, I'd head to Hedeon's office, talk his ear off about something, and then I'd be in Lucian's office for the rest of the day, watching him scold people over the phone.
Scolding usually made me anxious. But, when he yelled while rubbing my back and kissing my forehead, it didn't bother me.
"I still don't get the three fathers thing," I said to Lucian one evening. "I mean, one is your father. And the others are your uncles, right?"
"You can say that. We just call all of them dad because they've just acted like that our whole life and mom is with all of them."
"All three of them?
"Yes."
"What is the name of your father?"
"Hugo."
"Mother?"
"Irina."
"That's a pretty name," I said. "Where are we going now?"
"We haven't decided yet."
"Not back home?"
Even though I had snapped at Emilia, I still felt like I had abandoned my mom and dad. I didn't want to feel this way. But I couldn't help it.
"I don't think home is safe, yet. Especially if we go by this ship."
"Oh, what ab-"
I heard a loud sound, and then a scream.
"Andros!" Hedeon.
I shot out of my seat.
. . .
(3/3)