::CHAPTER 24::
{Third Person POV}
Ria stood opposite Alejo. Their little talk went a lot better than she’d thought it would. Hell, she was still conscious and everything. Setting the boundaries had been the best thing she’d ever come up with. Because of it she’d gotten the confidence to do a lot more than she would have dared to before.
The white room they stood in was a little too sterile for her liking. It was spotless and windowless but it was painted such a blinding white that it was hard to feel claustrophobic. Instead it opened the room up more.
“What is this place?” she asked after turning full circle and taking in everything.
“My art room. I’ve decided that if you’re going to know anything about me, we should start with this. My art.”
“There is no art in here.”
“Not to the naked eye, no.”
“Is your art really such big a part of you that you’d start with that?” she asked, “I thought you’d start with your military.”
“No. This place is more important to my personality.”
“Doesn’t really fit with the idea I have of you.”
“It does. You just haven’t realized it yet,” he said, “Everything in this room is a representation of me. From the actual room, to the art I make, to the glass box.”
“The wha—,” she stopped when she spotted it, “I didn’t even notice that there.”
In the very heart of the room was a large, glass box.
But it really wasn’t even a box at all. Not really. It more resembled a tiny room about the size of an elevator car. The walls of that room were so clean and streak free that she hadn’t noticed it the first time. It appeared to be invisible at first glance. She mouthed her praise at the illusion and walked over to it. It was a pretty thing up close. All sharp edges and razor lines.
“What do you do in here?” she asked touching the tiny hoop that made the door’s handle.
“I paint. Every single one of my paintings are done either in there,” he responded, “or a similar environment.”
“All of them?” her eyes widened, “You have this huge room and you only use this small one?”
“I enjoy the impact of being trapped inside against the feeling of openness that I get from the white room. It works for me,” he looked at the glass box.
“Trapped and free. That’s a facet of you,” she made a guess.
“Yes,” his eyes scanned the extremely bare room, “I have no problem with what I do but I admit, I’m trapped under this condition that ensures that I’m never satisfied or content. Yet I’m free to have, take and control whatever I want.”
“If that isn’t a paradox I don’t know what is,” she shook her head.
“I know. I have the means to have whatever I want and yet I will never have enough. Even if I had the world, it wouldn’t satisfy me. I do all and anything I can to keep myself interested in things but none of it lasts. I even keep my brother alive hoping that he could be enough. He’s only barely.”
“That’s why you haven’t killed Loki? For your entertainment?” she scoffed.
“Those of use will be safe,” he gave her an encouraging nod.
Ria turned back to the glass box and opened it. There was no way to get air into it. She couldn’t help but wonder how he survived not only the lack of air, but the paint fumes inside. Ria knew that she would have went a little mad if stuck in there for a long time.
“You said that you do all your paintings in here.”
“Correct.”
“Or other similar places,” she continued, “What other similar places?”
He smiled at her. It was with that unmistakable chill that was at home on him. She made it a point to remind herself that she was safe as long as she was his Pet. Or in his words ‘of use’. Because of that, she didn’t run full speed toward the nearest available weapon.
“I should have figured that you would pick up on that,” he mused, “I started painting when I was human. Long before I lived in this castle.” She looked at the glass box and understood what he wasn’t saying. He never had a room like this in his human years. It would have been impossible to have a glass box like this built in the era he lived in.
“You were trapped in another way. Were you locked away when you first began painting?”
“Yes,” he nodded, “In an asylum as a teenager. I used to ask to have my body restrained but my arms free so that I could work. The white walls of my room helped me do the work I had to.”
“You were in an asylum?” Ria said suddenly noticing the starkness of the walls and the clinical way the lights made the place glow. It was the way she imagined asylum walls to be.
“Yes, of course I was. Surely you don’t think my talents would be acceptable in that time.”
Ria walked over to him. Slowly. He didn’t move but his eyes followed her movements as she made it over to him. He was still sitting on the same white table he’d taken perch on since they had walked into the room. With her height and his seat, she was forced to look up at him.
Her mind still ran through that word over and over. Talents. It was such a strange word to describe murder.
She realized that once she got over the fear she had and then her wariness, she was actually fascinated by him. She had never met someone with a mind or personality like his. Ria, like so many before her, wanted to know more about what made Alejo tick.
“Tell me about your talents?”
“Are you sure, Little Red? Do you really think something like that would help your feelings about our feeding situation?”
“I already know what you’re capable of,” she said.
“No. You’ve only seen the tip of the tip of the iceberg,” he responded, “You haven’t any idea of what I could do in a true rage.”
“Hard to believe that you can get worse,” she scoffed.
“I can surprise the best of them.”
“It’s not hard. I just want to hear why you think it’s a talent.”
Alejo’s gaze hardened. “I don’t think it’s a talent, I know it is. From the age of thirteen, maybe even before that, I’ve been able to dissect animals. I could cut with the lightest touch, make the most flawless arcs and not destroy any important organs. I taught myself where each organ was and committed their sizes to memory. I could cut to hurt and yet not kill. Sometimes I could perform amputations without killing. I used little tricks to do it but it was perfect work. I had my own style and technique. My own personal flow. It is a natural talent.”
Ria folded her arms around herself. It was weird to hear him talk like that. She used to think of him as a psychopath who sometimes lost himself to the violence. She stupidly thought that it was something he couldn’t control. She’d thought that lack of control was why he distanced himself from people. Why he was so cold. Why he made it his duty to ensure that no one would want to befriend him. Now she knew better.
Her new Master was in total and absolute control of everything he did. She touched the cross at her neck and prayed that she survived him. And in spite of the chanting words she spoke in her mind, a part of her was more fascinated by him than she’d been before.
The way he spoke about his talents got to her. It was the same way she talked about acting or the way Ana talked about her art. There was a certain devotion and reverence to what he did. As gruesome as it was, she didn’t feel as if she could take this from him. This was something he was truly proud of. Something he put work and practice into.
And as wrong as she felt it was, it was his art or acting. It was what he cared about. He might never describe it that way, but it was obvious. Ria had heard it in his voice. He couldn’t stop what he did any more than she could stop drama or Ana could quite drawing. He truly did see it as a talent. An art form he was born to do.
“You don’t have to hurt people. Cutting isn’t your only talent,” she said finally, “I’ve seen you paint.”
“Same old story,” he said, “Everyone gravitates toward my socially acceptable talent.”
“No. I saw it. I get how much you pride your gift with a blade. I might not support it, but I can accept it.”
“Liar,” his fingers clutched the table harder, “No one in this era understands this thing I do. All they care about is the art inside the exhibits and shows. The legal kind. They can’t appreciate my talents. They don’t want to learn how.”
“Such is the life of a psychopath.”
He nodded, “I’ll drink to that.”
“Not yet, dude. My blood’s off limits for now, remember?” she shot him a look, “Anyways, how does this glass box painting thing work?”
She noticed that his face brightened a fraction at that question. She wondered what exactly it is that put that look on his face but saw that she didn’t have long to wait.
Alejo crossed the room and touched the wall. It slid aside to reveal a hidden closet. There were several blank canvases and easels inside. She stepped closer to look it. There were a few shelves stocked with paint, brushes and trays to carry them all.
Ria imagined that there were other parts of the walls that opened out too. She itched to touch a few and see what was hidden inside.
Her mind didn’t get to linger on those thoughts. Alejo was already striding past her and entering the glass box. It was so confined that he seemed to have to put in everything in a particular order.
The easel went in first and then he put the canvas on top. The tray he’d brought had an assortment of art supplies on it and he placed it on a tall yet tiny stool. The surface area was small but the legs were long.
He didn’t pay attention to any of that though. He was already touching another wall in the white room. Ria craned her neck to see what was behind this one. The wall revealed that it was a little washroom. White granite counter tops with a stainless steel sink and faucet set.
It all looked expensive but by now she’d learnt that Alejo settled for nothing but the best. After filling some water in a glass, he placed it on the tray in the room and closed it behind him.
Ria walked closer and took a seat on the floor. She was too curious about what he was about to do to watch from afar. She’d seen her sister paint many times before, but this was different. Art was an intimate thing for this man. He took it seriously. The passion he had for it wasn’t lost on her. It was a rare side of him to see and she didn’t want to miss a thing.
Alejo clapped his hands and the place fell into darkness. Ana’s heart leapt into her throat as the sudden pitch black took over the room. She couldn’t so much as see her hands in front of her. The windowless room left no room for light. The idea of being in a locked, dark room with Alejo made her skin prickle with a hyper awareness of him standing a few feet from her.
She didn’t think he was even breathing. There was a deafening silence surrounding her. Her eardrums felt the silence pressing against them. When she felt like she could no longer handle the stress of her unease, she heard him clap twice more.
A spotlight came on to shine down on him. It wasn’t very bright but it felt like sunlight after those tense moments of abysmal darkness. Her tension morphed into curiosity when her ears picked up on the soft sounds of classical music. It was a dark sort of classical music. Something out of an opera tragedy. It was slow and melodious but it hurt her heart to hear the woefulness of it.
She couldn’t help but imagine it playing a gothic castle up on a hill at night. Perhaps under a starless sky as a beautiful, trapped ballerina danced up in her bedroom tower. The music was just so bittersweet even in its serene creepiness.
She felt like a voyeur sitting there staring at him. Alejo ignored her as he stood in the not so private privacy of his glass box. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn that the box was made of one-way glass and that he couldn’t see her at all.
The spotlight threw parts of his face into shadows, adding mystery to the already mysterious man. Adding a sense of danger to him when he appeared dangerous enough on his own.
Goosebumps rose on her arms.
The music was not meant to be listened to in the darkness. Especially when the only other person in the room was a man capable of ripping out her throat with only his teeth. She reminded herself that she was still safe. He would not touch her. In fact, all he was doing was standing still with his eyes closed.
Ria wrapped her hands around herself, waiting for him to snap. Because he looked too much like a predatory animal that was temporarily caged.
She blinked when Alejo pulled off his shoes and socks. It was odd seeing him barefooted and so calm. But he didn’t stop there. She looked around her as if someone would pop out and say that this was a joke. Nobody did. Her cheeks just reddened by the second as he pulled off his jacket and then unbuttoned his shirt.
It was all done with closed eyes and that swift, all-business-no-nonsense way Alejo had about him. As much as she felt that he should have his privacy, she didn’t look away. The curiosity was too much. She convinced herself that if he truly wanted privacy, he wouldn’t be stripping inside a glass box with a spotlight that ensured that he would be the only thing on display.
He grasped the hem and tore the undershirt from his back in the first show of impatience. His pants soon followed and Ria slumped with secret relief. She had worried that there would be nothing under the trousers. That relief was short lived though.
The shorter pair of pants he now wore lacked the modesty she’d hoped for. It was in no way tight, but it gave a very good view of what would be an enviable body part for any man’s nether region.
She forced her eyes onto his face and noticed his shallow breathing. He was now standing with his forehead pressed to the glass, finger tips practically digging into the smooth surface. His eyes were closed once more, his face showing the first light sheen of sweat, lips parted.
For the first time, something occurred to her. She straightened up. “Can he breathe in that thing?” she mumbled to herself. She kept her voice quiet because it didn’t matter that she had permission to be here. It still felt too intimate a moment to openly interrupt. Even to ask such a crucial question.
Thinking on it, she figured that if he did all of his work in here then it must be fine. There had to be some way to breathe in there. There had to be.
Unknown to her, her fists were clenched so hard that her nails were close to breaking skin. In that moment he wasn’t the bastard who had kidnapped her and her sister. He wasn’t the pig who had forced her to watch her sister tortured until she agreed to be his Pet.
In that moment, he was just a man with a life that could be lost before her eyes. She’d never admit it aloud, but she was worried. She was too good a person to wish death on anyone. No matter if the person deserved it. A life was a life.
It didn’t even occur to her that the loss of his life would rebound on her. She was too focused on those trembling hands and shaky breaths. On the now tightly shut eyes and the hair that fell into his eyes. He looked so vulnerable and yet so in control. So defenseless and yet so powerful. He seemed at a breaking point; somewhere between falling apart and lashing out with everything in his violent nature.
She sat waiting to see what would happen next.
Ria remembered some of the paintings she had seen as Ana’s DataPod wallpapers. She had wondered how someone could paint like that. That level of artistic genius melded with a truly shattered mind showed in the darkness of the pieces. Ria had thought that someone had to have lost their sanity to paint in that way. She hadn’t known how right she was.
She watched fascinated as he stood to his full height. His usual composure was lost, but she saw the awareness in his eyes. He was in full control of himself. She relaxed visibly at that.
Alejo had a strange wildness in him that she’d never seen before. He was pacing as much as he could in the confined space. His face was twisted, deep in thought. She couldn’t help but be reminded of a caged animal. The idea strengthened when he placed his palms flat against the glass peering out, yet not seeing a thing.
He touched his throat in such an unconscious movement that she knew, in that second, that there really was no ventilation in that box. It was sealed shut and he was denying himself the oxygen that he needed to function. What she didn’t get was why.
He enjoyed hurting others. Why hurt himself? Was it possible that he was both masochistic and sadistic? She shuddered at the possibility. Those traits were not good for someone like him.
She watched as his eyes darted this way and that. It was the oddest thing. As if he was slowly short circuiting. As if he was giving into the mania causing chaos inside his mind.
Alejo grabbed something from the tray. Ana couldn’t see what it was in the limited light, but whatever it was, he was using it to draw. If you could call it that. He was making angry slashes at the canvas. She looked on with wary curiosity. The slashes made no obvious shapes and told no story but there was such anger and abandon and utter rawness to the black markings that she felt it reflected the sadness of the music.
She heard the object fall from his hands even as he grabbed tubes of paint. One by one colors were splashed across the canvas. He used what looked like a sponge to work in the colors together. Then he used his fingers to add texture and movement before using the paintbrushes to move in and around the dark slashes he’d drawn earlier.
Soon the canvas was starting to fill with a background that began taking shape. It was beautiful. Ria clutched her chest. She felt her heart break at the emotions that hit her. So much desolation and pain and utter loneliness in one art piece.
Ria understood it.
Alejo was always the tormentor. The abuser. When he painted he went into the mind of the tormented. Of the abused. When he painted, he painted from the victim’s point of view. He poured what they felt into his work. As much as he distanced himself from them during the act of hurting them, he knew what they felt even if he didn’t truly understand it.
His psychological condition made sure that he couldn’t feel what they felt, but he surely knew how to mimic it. Ria felt a tear run down her face. The emotions coming from the piece reminded her of that night she spent with a screaming, crying Ana. She and her sister had been his victims that night, and now she suddenly felt better looking at her new Master’s work.
It touched her and calmed her inexplicably. She wiped the tears from her eyes, knowing her nose was probably turning red.
The light came on full blast suddenly. She figured that it was timed to do that because there had been no clapping this time. The sudden brightness made Alejo squint at first, but took a second for his eyes to adjust before he looked around the room. Turning in a circle he drank in the room around him.
Alejo shielded his eyes and staggered backwards. He took a few breaths and Ria was surprised to see him calm down. He took a few more breaths and relaxed the tension in his shoulders. Picking up a paint brush, he started mixing colors into his palette as if he hadn’t just tripped off just a while ago.
His face smoothed out into peaceful lines. With an almost dainty poise, he used the brush to begin painting again. He ignored the paint splashed all over his hands, face, chest and feet. He was in his own zone. Ria pitied the person brave enough to disturb him at a time like this. Calm as he was, his mind was surely still fractured.
She finally understood why his face had brightened when she asked how his painting worked. She was only looking on and yet it was so addictive to watch him lose himself and then find himself back like that. It had drawn her in and she couldn’t explain why. For him it must have been a type of release to give into his own mania.
Even with his sanity openly coming back, his eyes blazed as he painted. Ria leaned her weight back on her hands and stretched out her legs in front of her. Before her the picture transformed from blank canvas, to heart-wrenchingly painful art to a masterpiece of magnificent proportions.
She felt a lump in her throat and tried her hardest not to cry again. She never cried like this over just anything. She wasn’t a crier in general. That was Ana. Her sister was the one with tear ducts that rivaled a broken pipe. But this piece…it did something to her.
Ria jumped at the sound of the glass door shutting. Alejo stepped out with his clothes perfectly folded in his arms. His hair was stringy and hung around his face, taking five years off of his physical age. His skin was sweaty from the heat of the glass box and he looked a little lightheaded.
Stumbling over to one of the walls in the room, he touched it and it slid aside to show a well stocked fridge. He pulled the transparent door open and a gust of fog hit him. A small smile flitted across his face and he tilted his head back as the coolness touched his damp skin. Pulling out a bottle out, he shook it and opened the cover.
Ria recognized it as diluted bottled blood infused with sodium, calcium, potassium and magnesium. It was an energy booster, rehydrated and replaced any electrolytes lost from sweating. Basically it was a sports drink designed for immortals.
Alejo guzzled half of the bottle before making a face and putting the bottle back in the fridge. She held back a laugh. His expression when he’d tasted it was priceless. For a second he’d transformed into a two year old eating vegetables. He shook his head and the glazed look left his eyes for a second.
Ria crossed her outstretched legs. His head whipped around as his focus turned on her. She couldn’t help but be reminded of a cobra the way his head had darted around.
“You stayed for the entire thing?” he asked Ria as he glanced at the watch on his wrist, “It’s been over five hours.” Ria blinked in shock. It hadn’t felt like more than an hour. A part of her knew that it was impossible to create what he had in such a short space of time, but that was how it felt. “Hours?” she repeated. He nodded and pushed his hair from his eyes. “I hadn’t noticed,” she pushed herself into a standing position.
“You are seriously talented.”
“Well obviously,” he rolled his eyes, “I’m not a famous artist just because.”
“Duh,” she copied his eye roll, “But it’s different actually seeing it all happen as you do it.”
“I’m surprised that you didn’t run for the hills actually.”
“Why?”
His brow furrowed and he surveyed her, “You are an odd little thing, aren’t you. Normal people wouldn’t have to ask.”
“And you’re an expert on normal?” she scoffed.
“Crazy people are the greatest experts on normal. We know what we aren’t,” he said, “Most people would be afraid of spending hours in a dark, locked room with a sadistic immortal who suffocated himself into a crazed, animalistic state of mind. The lock on this room’s door keeps people out not in and you knew you could have left.”
“You’re…hard to look away from when you’re like that. I needed to see you finish.”
“You see? Not normal at all,” he said and went over to another wall, “I’m going to take a shower.”
She figured that there was a shower hidden behind that wall so she didn’t question it. Almost immediately after, she found herself spinning away from him with wide eyes.
“Could you give me a warning next time you do that?” she grumbled.
“What did you think ‘I’m going to take a shower’ was, if not a warning?” was his rationale.
Alejo had pushed down the waistband of his short pants causing the scarce bit of fabric to swish to the floor. Free of those, he was otherwise naked. Ria rubbed at her steadily warming face.
The man had no problem with his nudity. Of course, that was no surprise. Ria figured that if she was a guy with a body like that, there’d be no need for shame. Her finger brushed the cross pendant at her neck asking God for strength to deal with the impossible man currently in the shower behind her.
She didn’t dare look around. It didn’t matter that he was in a closed shower because it was a completely transparent stall.
Ria wasn’t the type to fall for someone just because they were good-looking. They had to have a personality that she liked. And while Alejo’s personality drew her in, she didn’t like a lot of it. It was a miracle that they had gotten along for this long without fighting.
She peeked behind her to see that the glass had fogged over from the waist down. His face was upturned and the water fell into his eyes. She turned back around as a gentle knotting in her stomach formed.
She shook her head and took a cleansing breath. Her Master wasn’t blatantly good-looking. His nose was too crocked, his eyes too cold, his face almost reptilian in bone structure. But there was something about him that made him attractive in that unconventional way. He exuded power. He had a quiet confidence. Sure he boasted about it, but just the quiet manner he carried himself screamed it.
It was not hard to see why Ana had fallen a little for his charms. When he wanted to be, he could be a gentleman. Other times, she wished the myth about crosses and holy water worked on vampires. Her pendant from Father Samuel, his old advisor, would have repelled him and saved her the trouble of even being here.
The news of his death had stunned her. She hadn’t thought anyone would be so brave as to kill a priest. It seemed like such a taboo thing to do. But when it came to Alejo, the rules changed.
Her back stiffened as the shower shut off and the door slid open. The room was too silent not to notice the sounds of the towel rubbing against his skin. He seemed to dress with military swiftness because a moment later, he called her by name.
She turned and was relieved to see that he was wearing actual clothes. He went over to the glass box and peered inside.
“What do you think of it?” he asked.
“It’s perfect. I’ve never seen anything like it. I feel connected to it somehow.”
“That’s because it’s yours.”
“Why would you give it to me?”
“Because it’s yours,” he repeated, “Yours and Ana’s. That first night you spent here. I cannot empathize unless I’m in that state. I paint emotions because it’s the one thing in the world that I can’t have. Not that I want them, but it is a fascinating topic. It’s like I personally don’t feel the emotions but my artistic mind does. I go to that place and work and this is what I came up with trying to empathize with you two.”
“Is that…us?” she whispered. Her eyes focused on the splashes of red that seemed to be hair painted in abstract swirls.
“You and Ana? Yes.”
“So that’s what your paintings have in them. None of those media critics were even close.”
“If they were, I’d be in jail. Not that anyone would want to have me locked up. I sorrow for the guards and men that would be my daily companions.”
“So do I,” she gazed at the painting, “I want it.”
“When it is dry. No rush.”
Ria still hated what he’d done to her and her sister, but she had made the effort to forgive him. And while no amount of piousness would help her to forget, she would accept this painting. Oddly enough it was a soothing reminder, if that made any sense.
“Go get something to eat,” he said combing a stray hair into place, “I already have my own never ending hunger to deal with. I don’t need to deal with yours too.” She nodded and they left the room together.
Instead of going down to the kitchen, she went to her own room for a shower first. By the time she was done, there was a maid setting down a tray on her vanity table. There was a china tea set there with a plate of sandwich triangles, ends cut off.
She poured a cup of the tea and sweetened it just as Ana came into the open door. Ria shared the early morning meal with her sister as she filled her in on what had just happened. Even Ana, who had lived the torture personally, wanted to see the painting. She even left Ria’s room early to look back on Alejo’s past work on the Internet.
Ana had been a Veracci enthusiast for years and now she knew something about his art that no one knew. She wanted to see if she could figure out the secrets hidden in the pieces.
Ria thought it made sense in retrospect. Psychopaths always kept tokens of their victims right? What better token than a depiction of the act done by the psychopath himself? It was nothing short of genius really. He could not make society accept his darker talent. So instead he forced them to accept his killing through accepting his art. It was twisted and sad and clever all at once.
When she was finished eating, Ria used the intercom to call a maid to get the tray. She admitted that she felt a lot better with something in her stomach. She hadn’t even realized that she was hungry until the first bite.
Still on a high from that night, she went over to her window. It was only half twelve so the chill of the early morning hadn’t started yet. Ria pulled her fluffy robe closer to her body. It was way more comfortable than clothes. She shot her wardrobe a glance. She really didn’t feel like changing into her sleepwear.
A knock on the door spared her that decision. Crossing the room, she went over to let the maid inside. The lady grabbed the tray and left without a word. Ria scowled. She didn’t like that no one in this castle talked to her except Ana and Alejo. If it was of their own free will, she wouldn’t have cared but she knew it was her Master’s doing.
Speaking of which, she felt the now familiar burn in her throat and stomach. It was uncomfortable, but she knew he was feeling the brunt of it. She knew he didn’t deserve her sympathy, but she was too damn good a person. She couldn’t help it. She felt bad for him. She could only imagine what it was like to feel that kind of hunger and not be able to sate it no matter how much you ate. That there was only one food that would help and that food was unattainable.
Ria had to give him his due. He was trying. The Alejo she knew and hated would have just taken the blood from her and moved on with life. It must eat at him to go against what he was used to. “He must really hate emotions to keep his distance,” she mumbled.
Toying with the belt on her robe, she wondered if it would be so bad to give him one taste again. The last time hadn’t been too bad. And the fact that he wasn’t in the room this minute tearing her neck open gave her some faith in him. Clearly he had restraint. Maybe in this she could trust him.
She thought that, but she still didn’t move from that spot. Her fingers just toyed with the belt. She was anxious just thinking about it. “It won’t be so bad. Ana does it all the time. She doesn’t even mind. Then again, Loki is no Alejo,” she muttered rubbing her sweaty hands together.
A knock came at the door again. Somehow, she wasn’t too surprised to see Alejo on the other side. “Your anxiety is making it difficult to sleep,” he said looking a little bored. Despite his tone, his hand clutched his stomach.
“Your hunger is making it difficult to not be anxious.”
“I told you already. You get to decide when you do your first feeding,” he sighed.
“Is the hunger pains really bad?” she asked, “What I’m feeling is faint but I have a feeling that it’s worse for you.”
“Faint,” he smiled, “If only I were so lucky.”
“…how about now?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Our feeding. We can do it now if you like.”
“No, Little Red,” he patted her head as if she was a child, “We’ve only spent a few hours together ‘bonding’. Not even actively together. And worse yet, you were watching me lose it. We will need more time before we do this.”
“Why are you denying me? You’re Alejo Veracci. Since when are you noble?”
“I’m not noble. I’m selfish. And in my selfishness, I would prefer you to be calm when we do a feeding. The last thing I need is to be sating my hunger with your emotions going haywire all over the blasted place and making me feel even worse. I’ve had just about enough of your emotions leaking into me, thanks.”
“I can do it. Without worrying,” she scowled.
Ria hated to feel looked down on and that was just what Alejo was doing. He could make her feel weak and not even mean to. It pissed her off. He was one of those men who not only thought women were weak but thought humans were weak too. In essence she wasn’t useful for much. That patronizing look on his face ticked her off more than anything. It was as if he thought she would fall to pieces if he did the feeding.
She glared at him. That anger she felt blocked out any anxiety. “I feel nothing from you now,” he said frowning. I took two steps towards him. “Why is that?” he asked searching her face for an answer. “Does your anger trump anxiety?” he answered himself aloud, “Yes, of course. I already know anger. I wouldn’t feel that one much.”
“Are we going to do this?” she demanded.
“Why not?” he grinned, “If you can handle it, we’ll go through with it.”
“I can handle it,” she gritted out.
“Sure. Right. We’ll see.”
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Yeah I know this chapter was a little slow but the next one will pick up a bit with the first feeding and other things. Time to get a glimpse of the old, bad Alejo. He's been pretty good lately.
Anyways give me some feedback if you like :)
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