I awoke within an unfamiliar room, feeling groggy and slightly beat up despite all physical evidence proving otherwise. I had been placed unceremoniously atop of an unfamiliar bed, my shoes having been removed but otherwise untouched. As I sat up, I glanced at each of my arms, spotting the marks of Levi and Sebastian's bite already healed and fading slowly.
I looked around the empty room carefully. It looked average, without décor or otherwise used. The furniture around the room didn't match as if someone had just randomly selected them without concern.
I pushed myself to the edge of the bed, touching my head as though I could shove away the fatigue from it. Then I traveled across the room, accessing the closet absently. My clothes had been tossed without much care on the floor of the closet, causing me to hesitate before looking over my shoulder at the room again. I picked out a pair of pajamas, intending to go back to sleep as soon as I'd had a shower.
As I washed the dried blood and other filth from my skin, I began to recall the night before. I recalled the witches, their spell over my body, and the fear that held me then began to choke me all over again. I placed my hands over my face, my breath shallowing as I calmed myself. Sebastian had saved me. I recalled my hand over his chest and his soothing words. They would protect me.
Why couldn't I protect myself? If I had magic within me and could use it to tear down buildings and otherwise injure myself, why couldn't I use it to protect myself and those I loved? I looked at my hands with a frown. It was an easy answer. I didn't know how to use my magic. Sure, I had thoughts and some words in my mind occasionally, but the practice was something different. I needed help.
I finished my shower, brushing my teeth and finally dressed comfortably enough to feel prepared to sleep my fears away. But as I sat atop the unfamiliar bed, I found myself feeling more awake than expected. I crossed my legs comfortably, looking at the palm of my hand determinedly.
"Etign," I said quietly, waiting for a flame to appear. Nothing came. I frowned and tried again. "Etign." Nothing again.
"If you set my bed on fire, you'd better burn with it," Miles warned, causing me to gasp in surprise. I closed my hand into a fist, pulling it to my chest quickly. He stood in front of the bedroom door, leaning against it with his arms crossed. "What are you doing?" He waited for my answer and I swallowed with difficulty.
"I was... trying to use magic," I admitted honestly, glancing at my hand briefly before lowering it to the bed sheets uselessly. I thought a moment before an idea struck me. I turned my eyes on Miles with hope. "Can you teach me how to control it, Miles?"
He paused, watching me with quiet, fierce eyes. Then he lifted his hand abruptly, holding up a finger before placing it over his lips in warning. He wanted me to be silent. I watched him obediently as he tilted his head towards the door, no doubt listening for the others. Did he not want them to know about my using magic?
Whatever it was, he continued in silence before a slow smile rose on his features. He turned to me with a dark, intense look. It sent a chill over me, reminding me of the same look he'd given me just after I had offended him. Dangerous.
"We're all alone, now," Miles informed me coolly, his words trilling over my skin. I moved my hand to rub the goosebumps from my arm, glancing away from his menacing eyes. When I moved to look at him again, he was suddenly there, crouched on the edge of the bed. I yelped in surprise, unconsciously moving away and finding the end of the bed. I yelped again when I tumbled over the edge, collapsing on the floor clumsily.
I planted my hands on the floor, lifting myself partially and looking up at the bed to find Miles propped where I had been. He leaned his head on the palm of his hand, watching me with calm intelligence. I saw a hint of amusement cross his feature which he promptly smothered.
"Teach you magic, hmm? You want me to make it easier for you to use it against us?" Miles asked me suspiciously. I shook my head quickly.
"I want to protect myself," I told him sincerely. "And I want to protect all of you." Miles observed me quietly a moment more, obvious disbelief in his eyes.
"Did Levi tell you how we came to be vampires?" He asked me, causing my heart to pause momentarily. I had gone against his wishes and asked Levi to tell me his story. I knew he wouldn't be pleased if I told him this. I also knew I couldn't lie to him.
"He did," I admitted quietly, looking down guiltily. "I'm sorry."
"Then you know how much I quite enjoyed power," Miles continued, ignoring my apology. I looked up at him carefully. He had sacrificed human life to gain more power, so I understood his comment. I wasn't sure what he was getting at, though. "I saw what Seb did with you. More than that, I understood what he did."
"He fed from me," I supplied a response with uncertainty. I hadn't been sure what Sebastian had done to save me, if I was honest.
"That he did," Miles said slowly, beginning to tense with purpose. My heart rose to my throat, my body tensing as well in response. Did he aim to attack me? For what reason? "He fed from you and you gave him magic. Power. He was able to cast and even after he broke that curse from you, he still had magic for quite some time before it faded."
I was beginning to connect the dots. I abruptly pushed myself from the floor, moving a good distance away so that I could see him clearly. He didn't attack. Not yet. He only watched me move away with fierce observation; an animal in sight of its prey.
"I was thinking, why teach you to use magic when I can use it myself?" His voice was empty and emotionless as he watched me.
"You want my power?" I asked him, a pain throbbing in my heart in response. My voice quieted, the pain lacing my words, "You're going to hurt me?" I knew Miles was fighting the imprint, but it never truly occurred to me that he might actually harm me. Threaten... frighten even, but never actually harm.
My words seemed to make him hesitate, but then he hardened his expression.
"As I recall, I told you to watch how you speak to me," Miles stated slowly, shifting on the bed towards me carefully. His eyes were hypnotizing, calling out to that animal within me that thrived in the danger. "What was it you said? About me not being able to get any action?"
This wasn't good.
I quickly turned, meaning to escape from this room and from whatever plans Miles held for me. But before I could take a couple of steps, he grabbed me, roughly pinning me to the wall. His warm touch was like a shock of electricity against my wrists and he held them firmly over my head. My heart raced painfully in my chest, my breath short with exhilaration. I was caught, but I also felt brave under his grip.
"A blowup doll," I gasped spitefully, causing him to turn his gaze from my skin to my eyes. "You can only get action from a blowup doll." Miles tightened his grip on my wrists painfully, causing me to whimper from the slight pain that resulted.
"You're funny," He told me, gripping my face in his other hand determinedly. He closed his eyes momentarily, a pained expression crossing his features. It shifted into one of anger. His eyes turned back on me, a fire within them. "I guess it's a good thing you're a blowup doll, then."
Miles suddenly captured my lips with his in a rough kiss, claiming me dominantly. My mind reeled, alarms ringing as my body responded to him recklessly. I wasn't a mindless doll; something to be used how he wished and thrown out when done. But his touch sang to the instinct within me, which demanded I give myself to him. I whimpered against his mouth, fighting with myself.
His lips traveled over my jaw and to my neck possessively, one hand running under my shirt wildly while the other kept me pinned against the wall firmly. I gasped as his touch lit my flesh, trying to struggle against my own desire.
"Miles," I whimpered breathlessly, finding my voice with difficulty, "Stop." I didn't want this; to be treated as a toy. I didn't want this form of love; the kind used without love's intention. I wanted Miles, but not as he was now. He, on the other hand, wanted me immediately.
"Be quiet, doll. You've been begging for this. I can smell it," He growled before abruptly turning me to pin me face first against the wall. He lined his body with mine from behind, his hands still traveling my flesh as his lips claimed my shoulder. I gasped as he nipped at my skin dangerously, my body throbbing with desire. But I wasn't a doll. I wasn't.
"Stop," I gasped as his lips moved over my skin lustfully. "Stop. Please."
His hands moved lower, traveling between my legs seductively. I moaned with pleasure, stifling the sound as I fought with myself. I wasn't a toy. I wasn't a doll. I didn't want Miles like this. Fear was beginning to creep in. He wasn't stopping.
"Miles," I whimpered as he moved against me roughly, shifting his hand to pull at my pajama bottoms. My fear was rising, beginning to coat my veins. The cold of the fear countered the warmth of his touch. "Stop! Stop, please." I struggled against him, feeling him tense dangerously. He continued to rip at my pajamas, baring me to him without pause. Tears spilled over my cheeks as the fear took over, my breath becoming short and ragged.
"Stop!" I cried out in fear, a sob tearing through me loudly. Miles froze against me, his hands no longer grabbing at me and his lips no longer tasting my skin. I trembled under his grip, sobbing uncontrollably. He shifted towards me, inhaling my scent deeply before freezing again.
"Fear," He growled, stepping away tensely. I slid uselessly to the floor, clinging to the remains of my clothes as he stood like a statue only steps away. My sobs quieted to morose cries, my body continuing to tremble fearfully.
Miles suddenly snarled, turning towards a nearby end table. He lifted it easily, throwing it across the room ferociously before reaching for the next nearest furniture. His rage was loud and wild. It broke everything. Wood was shattered throughout the room, glass spilled over the floor, and nothing was safe. When there was nothing left, he stood huffing in the center of the room, his anger and frustration still not satisfied. My cries had quieted among his fit, but my trembles still resumed throughout me.
Miles suddenly crouched in front of me, pinning his hand against the wall behind me. I whimpered in response, tense and trying to prepare for whatever attack he had planned. He reached for me, placing a finger under my chin to lift my reddened eyes to his.
"You win," He told me simply before disappearing altogether.
~...~
I was curled comfortably within large bedsheets and torn pillows; the remains of the bed having been discarded throughout the chaotic room. After Miles fled the room, it had taken me awhile to realize I had been unharmed after all. And not long after that, I found my exhaustion had returned. I found myself new sleepwear and searched for the remnants of the bed before deciding to make my own among the rubble.
When I next awoke, I was no longer alone. Miles sat lazily not far away, an arm on his knee and absently biting into a bright red apple as he watched me quietly. I didn't move or say anything in fear of upsetting him all over again. He looked from my form to the room around him slowly, taking in his destroyed surroundings apathetically.
"Oliver made fun of the fact that I slept on the couch, if that pleases you," Miles said, his tone careful and quiet. I remained silent and unmoving. After a moment, he cleared his throat, mimicking Oliver's voice but in a higher pitch. "'What, don't tell me you're afraid of a girl now. Was she unimpressed with your smiley face pillows?'" When I didn't respond in any way, he shifted uncomfortably.
"Won't you spar with me, Katia? I'm sure you have a whole list of insults waiting for me," He refused to look at me as he said those words, a look of guilt and regret crossing his features. When I remained quiet, he tossed his apple away and covered his face, growling at himself. He began muttering to himself in a hushed voice too quiet for me to distinguish the words, but the frustration was easy to hear in his tone. With his hand still covering his face, he spoke to me again.
"I know you'll never forgive me," Miles stated dully, defeated. "Won't you just say you hate me already?" I held my breath, watching him as he refused to face me. My heart was still hurting from his previous attack, but something about watching his responding pain only added to mine.
I lifted myself quietly, crawling silently over the rubble towards him. I slipped between his parted legs easily, reaching to grasp his shirt before resting my body against his; my head centered on his chest. Miles became rigid under me, removing his hand from his face to look down at me with disbelief.
"I don't hate you," I said quietly, shifting to settle closer against him.
For a moment, he only sat frozen and silent under my sudden embrace. And then he slowly lowered his arms around me, holding me warm in his grip. It was a contrast to the Miles I had come to known so far; instead of angry or suspicious, he was muted and gentle. He lowered his head against mine carefully as if afraid I would disappear any moment.
It was a silly fear. I wasn't going anywhere.
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Music: Paint It, Black as sung by Ciara