Despite the wide smile gracing Aren's lips, the weariness etched across his features is unmistakable. My heart twists painfully in my chest at the sight, a visceral reaction to the lingering aftermath of those abhorrent auctions. All I yearn for at this moment is to envelop him in my embrace, whispering reassurances that he will find solace. I vow to stand by his side and get him out of this nightmare. There's no question about it anymore; I'll get him out tonight.
My mind races to process his words. "Saw who?" I blurt out, my hands reaching out to him through the bars, and my eyes scanning him instinctively for any sign of injury.
Relief floods through me as I find no trace of injury, his vitality palpable beneath my touch. Yet, I'm acutely aware of the scars I can't see, those of mental anguish rather than physical wounds. The mere thought of what he's endured sends alarm bells ringing in my mind, urging me with a sense of gravity to whisk him away from this place as quickly as possible. Our words intertwine in a chaotic symphony, my concern echoing in the question of his well-being, while he simultaneously responds to my question.
My hurried concerns grind to a halt as he mentions Idalia. "She was at the auction?" I inquire, a hint of surprise coloring my tone at the notion of her swift return to search for something so soon.
"You were worried about me?" he interjects, sidestepping my inquiry.
"Of course," I respond quickly before pressing on, "She was there? Did she see you?"
Once more, he bypasses my questions, focusing instead on my concern. His surprise at my evident worry strikes me as odd; naturally, I was worried.
"You were thinking of me?" he asks.
"Yes, Aren, I was thinking of you. I couldn't stop thinking about you," I confess, the words tumbling out as if they were the most natural thing in the world. "This supposed cure they concocted is proving fatal for older vampires; I feared they might have administered it to you. I was on the verge of losing my mind thinking I wouldn't be able to leave this place with you," I continue, emotion welling up within me until a stray tear escapes, betraying the depth of my feelings.
The idea that he might doubt my genuine concern for him is unfathomable. To me, showing empathy towards someone enduring such trials is simply what feels right. The thought that he could question my care is deeply disheartening. Yes, our acquaintance has been brief, and there have been moments of irritation. However, despite it all, we are united in this ordeal. We're in this together, facing the same challenges, and I am steadfast in my belief that we will leave this place together.
I will get him back to his sister, I swear it. And while Idalia may not warrant such kindness, he certainly does. He's endured the trials of this place for far too long. He deserves to embrace freedom, to live a life far removed from the shackles of this place.
"I was thinking of you too. You're always on my mind," he blurts out, his eyes widening with disbelief.
A gentle chuckle escapes me, and I watch as his cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I thought you were gone forever for a moment there," I confess softly, feeling a slight quiver in my lip.
His fingers stretch through the cold steel bars, a desperate yearning in his touch, as though he's reaching for something beyond our confines. Without hesitation, I lean closer, allowing his embrace to bridge the gap between us. It's slightly awkward, unable to hug him fully, hindered by the unyielding metal barrier separating us.
As I draw back slightly, his arms linger, one hand finding refuge on my arm while the other rests gently on my thigh. Our eyes meet through the narrow gaps, sharing a moment of intimate connection. "I'm sorry for causing you worry," his voice is barely a whisper, carrying the weight of remorse.
A bittersweet chuckle escapes me, accompanied by a smile tinged with tears as I gaze at him tenderly. Using a hand, I swiftly brush away the evidence of my emotions. "It's alright. Just promise me you won't do it again, okay?"
"I won't," he affirms, his eyes holding mine with a mix of gratitude and determination, though a fleeting glance betrays a different kind of longing.
Swiftly shifting gears, he steers our conversation back to the pressing matter at hand. "About the cure... I'm not quite following. What did you mean by that?"
I realize he's completely unaware of everything I've experienced. I never shared the true ending of my story. It's strange how quickly I've become comfortable with him, as if I've known him for ages, despite our brief acquaintance. Yet, he's clueless about my past. Dr. Gavens mentioned the cure, but he still doesn't know what it all means. Despite the possibility that he may not be receptive, I feel compelled to share everything with him. It's important for him to understand, even if it's uncomfortable.
"It's quite a complicated story; maybe I'll share the details another time. But in short, my parents modified my blood while trying to turn me into the cure, ensuring I'd become a vampire after death. Surprisingly, it was Idalia who ultimately ended my life. But—"
"She what?" he practically growls, startling me.
I didn't even know the sweet, timid man could react so fiercely. "Right, when I said we were friends, that wasn't entirely true. Idalia and I are more like... business partners," I explain, my words hesitant as I struggle to convey our complex relationship. "I was helping her find you and she was helping me take down members of WWA. I'm sorry I wasn't completely honest from the start."
"No, you don't need to apologize, Av," he shakes his head, his expression clouded with anger. "God, I can't believe she would do such a thing. I'm so sorry, I don't know how I'll forgive her for this."
"It's alright. It was bound to happen eventually. I'm kind of glad it was sooner than later." He nods, but the creases in his forehead remain. I divert my gaze, my eyes falling to Jeannette's empty cell. "Where did they take her? I don't hear her."
His eyes follow mine and he shrugs. "I'm not sure. I can't imagine it's anywhere good."
As his words sink in, my mind races, scrambling to concoct a viable escape plan. Jeannette's sudden absence throws a wrench into my plan. The optimal plan was for all of us to leave together, but Jeannette's absence complicates matters. We'll scour every inch of this building if necessary, but there's a haunting possibility she's not even here. The veil of uncertainty only amplifies the pressing need to escape.
"Aren, we need to—"
My words come to a halt when I feel his other hand meet my other thigh, both now inching upward. "We need to what?" he asks, his eyes boring into mine.
"Uh... we need to—"
He breaks away to glance downward, his fingers fidgeting with the bottom of my boyshorts. My mind goes momentarily blank, a surge of nervous energy coursing through me, tinged with an unexpected flicker of excitement. My stomach flutters as he slips a single digit beneath the fabric, tracing the inner curve of my thigh.
"I'm really sorry for what happened," he murmurs softly.
"What are you sorry for? I—" I start to respond, then pause as realization dawns. "Oh, I said it's alright. Just no more worrying me. We—"
"No," he interrupts, shaking his head, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he clarifies, "For that day on the medical table."
It takes a moment, but understanding eventually floods over me. "Aren, I said you could bite me. It's alright. You don't need to apologize for that."
His eyes meet mine and he narrows his brows. "What? No, I mean for what happened when you bit me. It wasn't fair. You should have got to finish too."
Finish... what?
"Okay, I'm lost," I confess with a nervous snicker, the sound escaping awkwardly as his finger continues its tantalizing descent.
Sitting with my legs crossed, the tension in the room becomes palpable, urging me to flee, to shield myself from embarrassment by covering my face and hastily snapping my legs shut. Instead, I remain rooted in place, intrigued, to say the least, and unable to tear my gaze away as he draws nearer. His finger bends, knuckle pressing against my covered clit before slipping four fingers beneath the fabric and gripping it tightly in his hand.
"Is this okay?" he asks.
I bite down on my lip, sucking in a deep breath to steady my nerves. Uncertainty swirls within me as I try to decipher his intentions. If we weren't constrained by time, I'd likely be eagerly nodding along, but the urgency of our situation keeps me grounded.
As he tugs on the material, inching closer to where I secretly want him to be, the time limit momentarily fades from my mind. "I don't remember much after you bit me," I admit awkwardly, my gaze locked on his face. "It's all a bit of a blur."
He releases the fabric abruptly, his eyes snapping up to meet mine. "You don't remember?" he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief.
I shake my head, furrowing my brows in confusion. His expression shifts to one of mortification, and I can't shake the feeling that I've somehow misstepped. "Did something happen?"
His face flushes an even deeper shade of red, and his hands retreat, settling instead on my thighs and squeezing tight. I almost flinch at the unexpected pressure, but manage to suppress the reaction. "I... uh. I mean we... or I—" he stammers, his words stumbling out. "We almost kissed,'' his words spill out in a rushed stream, so rapid they almost blend together.
My eyes widen as the meaning registers in my mind. "No," I shake my head firmly. "No, we did not."
"Oh..." he exhales heavily, disappointment clouding his expression.
Quickly realizing the impact of my response, I scramble to amend it. "I mean... I just don't remember that," I interject hastily, hoping to alleviate his disappointment.
As everything remains a blur, I can't shake the feeling that I would have remembered if we almost kissed. Besides, the vivid memory of being strapped to a medical table with a doctor looming over us makes the notion seem utterly implausible. How could such a moment have transpired in that setting? The mere thought leaves me feeling anxious and perplexed. Perhaps he himself is confused, concocting the idea in his disoriented state of mind. But then again, he appeared to be more conscious than I was during that time.
My cheeks flush instantly, mirroring his own heated expression. "I might have convinced myself it was happening. I was on a lot of drugs," he confesses sheepishly, his nervousness evident as he chews on his lips. "I sometimes make up scenarios in my head. I'm likely confused."
I suppress the urge to laugh at his words, sensing the gravity of the situation. His earnestness makes me hesitant to make light of the situation, especially considering the potential impact on his feelings. Instead, I opt for a more understanding approach. "That's okay. You don't need to be embarrassed. But... do these scenarios usually involve you kissing me?" I inquire gently, hoping to gain further insight into his thoughts and feelings.
He purses his lips, his eyes wandering for a moment before he nods. "Mostly. Sometimes it's just us holding hands and sleeping. I can't shake this image of lying in a real bed. And you're always there..." His voice trails off, then he meets my gaze again, a hint of curiosity coloring his words. "Are beds nowadays better than what they used to be?"
I can't hold back the laughter that bubbles up within me. It echoes through the room, drawing a frown from him. I instantly recognize that I've embarrassed him further, but the laughter refuses to subside. He probably thinks I'm mocking him, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I find it incredibly endearing that he imagines scenarios with me. It's romantic in its own way, even if it's a bit delusional.
"No, no, I'm sorry," I manage to speak through my giggles. "That's genuinely sweet, Aren. Seriously, I think it's adorable that you daydream about me."
His frown lingers, but he finally meets my gaze. "Are you being sarcastic with me?" he asks, giving my thighs another squeeze.
I shake my head, my smile threatening to reach my ears. "No, not at all. I like that you think about kissing me." The words spill from my lips without a second thought, surprising even myself with how effortlessly they emerge. My astonishment reflects in his eyes as we lock gazes, a moment of shared surprise hanging between us.
He seems to lean even further into the bars, his hands kneading at my thighs almost instinctively, as if seeking solace in the touch. His face is flushed with embarrassment, his nervousness palpable as his body trembles slightly. His words come out in a soft whisper, barely audible. "I really want to kiss you."
I smile softly, nodding in understanding as I lean forward. "You can kiss me... but we need to get out of here first."
He tilts his head in confusion, momentarily pouting before swiftly dropping the expression. With a roll of his eyes, he pulls back, his tone taking on a hint of sass. "So never?" he quips, his gaze fixating on the wall.
"Actually, I was hoping we could leave tonight," I assert matter-of-factly.
His eyes snap back to me, skepticism evident in his expression. "Your blood gave me strength. If I could just get enough to feel right, I think we could make our escape. Tomorrow, the headman is scheduled to visit, and the doctors intend to disclose their discovery to him. That can't happen, Aren. We have to leave tonight."
"Go? Both of us?" he echoes, his confusion evident.
I seize his hands, still resting on my thighs, and intertwine our fingers, bringing them to rest against my chest. "Yes, both of us," I affirm. "But I'll need your blood."
//
it's happening :))