Chapter Sixteen
Let me make something clear.
I am not some innocent little virgin, and I am not a child despite how disarming my looks can be to the people around me. I'm further from either of those things than anyone would probably ever really know. I'm a grown man, after all, with needs, and history, and I know my way around a bedroom since I dated an amazing and highly attractive man for fifteen long years.
That does not, suffice to say, mean that I am experienced with seeing other people naked, or even that it wasn't awkward for me to be in such close quarters with two huge, sculpted, very chiseled men who were so scary on a psychopathic level but still so fucking hot on the physical side.
My subconscious was squealing in delight but my brain, on the other hand, was caught between going 'oh, yasss!' and panicking blindly.
Why me all the freaking time?
I hated Sebastian in that moment, hated him so much I could have screamed, but as things were all I could do was cling to his bare back and pray that the shoulder digging into my solar plexus wouldn't leave me bruised and contused like an apple that had been used in a game of major league baseball.
Heavily decorated hallways slid past us, but I hardly saw them since I was too busy trying to stare at a specific spot on the floor. If I raised my eyes, I'd have a full head-on eyeful of a blonde, naked Adonis, but if I lowered them, I'd have a similarly provocative view of Italy's finest glutes.
Either way, the last thing I needed in this situation was to deal with my own hormones, and eventually I couldn't take it anymore.
"Is carrying me really necessary?!" I finally complained, kicking my legs. "Put me down right NOW, dammit!"
The only response I received was a particularly painful bounce in Sebastian's step. Leo snorted and lifted his burly arms behind his head with a smirk, but I looked away with my cheeks burning since I once again caught a glimpse of far too much. Not that I minded, really, but I had to remind myself that the guy was a werewolf who'd intended to rip my throat out earlier.
That thought was definitely an attraction killer.
I avoided looking at him when he fell into step beside us, but when he did I noticed that the other two werewolves had vanished. The hall was empty, and I wondered at that right before we went around a corner and Sebastian finally put me down, none too gently I might add.
I grumpily straightened my pale pink sweater as Sebastian opened a dark brown door.
It was old, and it creaked.
"Get in," he growled, gripping my arm and dragging me across the floor; I stumbled, dropping the hem of my shirt, and flailed my free arm in an attempt to catch my balance. "You're staying in here for the time being."
"W-what?" I asked, confused; I tried to get free, and fought against him as he roughly and unceremoniously tugged me inside. "Hey, what are you doing?!"
"Silence," he hissed, eyes flaring yellow. "Not another word."
"B-but, what are you-"
He abruptly let go of my arm mid-pull, sending me careening backwards to the ground with a pained cry. I caught only the briefest glimpse of Leo's wince as I fell; my hair tumbled about my face as I lay exhausted on the hard wood floor. Footsteps, presumably Sebastian's, moved away from me and the door shut a moment later, casting me in total darkness.
I twitched as the sound of a lock clicking filled the room like the tolling of a funeral bell.
Silence filled the air after that, deafening, ringing in my ears.
I didn't stray from my spot on the floor for a long time. For one thing, I was exhausted after the fiasco from earlier, and for another, the wood felt cold beneath my palms and bare legs. I enjoyed the sensation because it counteracted the flaming ache in my left wrist, but eventually my body started to hurt from the awkwardness of my fallen stance, so I sat up cross-legged in order to get a better look around.
Not that there was much to see.
A tiny, cell-like room with no windows, an empty bookcase, and two doors constituted my prison, and with a grunt I stood up and swept over to another door that Sebastian hadn't taken the time to shove me through. I hoped, vaguely, for an exit, but when it turned out to belong to a small junk closet I didn't feel all that disappointed. I hadn't been hoping very hard, you see, so it was only with a mild sort of sigh that I propped myself against the wall facing the door.
Staring contest time, I thought. I'll sit here until they come back for me.
The silence continued to ring, the only thing breaking it being my own rapid pulse, a physical sign that I was more afraid than I'd realized. Perhaps I'd gotten so used to feeling fear that I didn't notice when it was affecting my body. An uncomfortable thought, but possible.
My tailbone started to ache from sitting in one position for too long, so with yet another weary sigh I got on all fours and crawled to the door.
"Is anyone out there?" I called, rapping my knuckles against the wood, but when I didn't get an answer I assumed that I was alone. Either that, of course, or I had a guard who had no intention of speaking to me, and since that made me mad, sad, and jittery all at once I decided that I was simply alone. I crawled back to my spot against the wall and pulled my knees to my chest.
I had no way to tell time without a clock, or my phone, which had been lost on the porch somewhere during the fray, but I probably sat there for at least an hour, replaying events in my head before the boredom of doing nothing overtook me.
When it became too much, I flopped down on the floor and rolled around for a bit, singing and humming songs from various artists as I stared at the wood on the ceiling to pass the time.
Spamalot's "Always Look On the Bright Side of Life," whistling portions and all, made the quiet of my cell almost bearable, but soon even that grew wearisome.
Dear God, I need something to do, I thought, grumbling to myself until I remembered the closet and paused. Maybe there's something in there that I can use to amuse myself.
Shrugging, I crawled to it and opened the door.
To my bafflement, I came face to face with a wooden rocking horse with a broken-off tail and a green vase as tall as my thigh with a giant crack down one side waging a valiant battle against clutter. These two objects seemed to be holding back an avalanche of other junk, and with a frown, I stood up and yanked at both of them as hard as I could.
I stumbled backwards and landed on my butt when they both came free, skittering backwards with a yelp as the rest of the stuff came cascading out onto the floor.
Vases, scrolls, old books, three faded seat cushions, a small stuffed reindeer, a wooden box, papers, a streamer of those men-holding-hands cutouts that I used to make as a kid, a lonely boot, a flower pot, a wind-up toy shaped like a green robot, a metal sculpture of a pony... and that was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg, although this iceberg was more than a little dusty.
I tentatively poked and pawed through the kitsch, extracting the seat cushions for my own personal use, and that's when I saw the drum. Specifically, a small goblet drum made of whitewashed leather and pale wood.
"Now there's something I can put to good use," I murmured, smiling a little.
I took the drum and settled against the wall, cushions tucked beneath and behind me as I held it tight between my knees. I started with a simple beat using first the side of my hand and then my entire palm: chik-chika-CHONK-CHONK!
Drumming with one hand was tricky, but I'd always enjoyed personal challenges.
Sure enough, the beat progressed like a wild thing, raging out of control the moment I let it free. I went slow and then fast, and then I double timed everything and half-timed it again. I tried beat-boxing along with the rhythm for a little while, but I'd never been much of a beatboxer and soon gave that little diversion up. My adrenaline pumped the way it always did when I made music, and the sound of my hand smacking against the leather had never sounded so sweet.
To me, the voice of the drum sounded a lot like Bye bye, boredom!
I loved drumming. I was good at it, too, having been in drum line in high school and the member of a drumming class before I'd dropped out of college. The rhythm, the feel of the instrument beneath my hands, the sound as it pulsed against my eardrums... I loved drumming.
I didn't love it it as much as some other instruments, mind you, but drums were ambrosial despite being simple. I started singing not much later, mapping out a string of little wordless notes to the beat of my hand on the drum. The beat was leading me somewhere my mind couldn't yet see, but pretty soon the song I had been edging towards came out in full force.
"Feels like I'm falling, into a world... into a world I can't control. I hear it calling.... down in my soul... gripping my bones, it won't let go...."
I paused with the drum beat, taking a second to focus on the vocals, but when they petered out I all but slammed my palm against the leather, belting out each and every note forcefully, the lyrics half like a prayer and half life a vicious demand.
"Wake me up! Won't you wake me uuuup?! Caught in a bad dream... caught in a bad dream! Wake me up! I wanna feel the suuuun! Caught in a bad dream... caught in a bad dreeeam. Feels like I'm frozen... nowhere to run... nowhere to run from here. These walls are closin'... closin' me in... wearing me thin, with fear..."
Maybe my mood was too dark thanks to being locked up in a tiny, dim room with nothing but a rocking horse and a stuffed reindeer for company, but I felt more than a little pleased with myself as I ran through the lyrics and let myself get lost, for a time.
"Bad Dream" was probably too close to home for the situation I was in, but in a way I figured it was more helpful than harmful since it let me vent.
Three revolutions of the song had passed me by before the door to the room burst open and I dropped the drum, nearly jumping right out of my skin as the blonde man, Leo, walked in and stared at me like I was some sort of freak of nature. My voice faltered, cracked, and dropped off into oblivion as we stared at one another, because what else was I supposed to do?
I noticed almost immediately that he looked far neater than he had earlier. He'd thrown on a pair of weathered blue-jeans and a grey turtle-neck, and his wild blonde hair had been pulled back into a messy man-bun which was a look that somehow suited him. His eyes flitted to the drum lying on the floor and then to my shaking hands before he shut the door.
I broke out into a cold sweat when he swaggered over but remained completely still.
He stopped when he was about a foot away from me, looming like a pillar of muscle, and I bunched my shoulders up in preparation for the oncoming hostility, the warning, the whatever it was he was going to throw at me, but instead he just plopped down on the floor and folded his legs.
I blinked, staring at him as he made himself comfortable.
"Go on," he said, eyes narrowed.
I hesitated.
"Go on, keep playing," he said, miming out beating on a drum when I didn't start. "Please?"
I did a double take and looked at him blankly since I hadn't been expecting him to be polite.
Not really knowing what else to do, I started a rather bare but bouncy two-bit rendition of Katy Perry's 'Roar' and Leo stared at me with his eyes bugging until I finally finished.
"Wonderful!" he hollered, clapping wildly; a huge crooked grin split his bearded mouth, crinkling his dark eyes in a surprisingly handsome manner. "Sing some more!"
I had no complaints about that so I obediently went through a whole playlist of songs from the early 1990s and 2000s. Top 40 hits and obscure indie folk pieces, rap tracks and country blues, R&B crooners and hard rock ballads, all tweaked to fit into my vocal range with a bit of skillful improvisation.
Leo got pretty excited during a few of them, swaying in place and grinning like a mad man when things got intense, but my voice got rough after a while and when I finally ended Matt and Kim's "Good Old Fashioned Nightmare" with a croak he let me have some peace.
"Wah, I've never heard any of those songs before," he said, eyes bright and eager; the guy seemed so laid back that I couldn't help feel myself opening up to his cheerful personality and personable expression. "Did you write them yourself?"
I mutely shook my head.
"Oh... well, where did you hear them then?"
"Music from when I was a kid," I said in a quiet, clipped tone; I looked away from his eyes, suddenly feeling super uncomfortable, which was strange since I hadn't while singing. "Music like that was everywhere back in the day."
"Ah, so its retro music," he practically purred, nodding thoughtfully. "That would mean you were turned before World War Three, which probably makes you older than me."
"Wait, what?" I asked, staring at him more attentively; my discomfort went out the window. "I'm only seventy six years old."
That got a very loud, very abrupt, very booming belly laugh out of him... hell, he practically roared with mirth, even going as far as throwing his head back and clutching his stomach. I felt my cheeks flame and I looked away, wondering why I suddenly felt embarrassed.
"Only seventy six?" he chuckled, wiping his eyes with an amused shake of his head. "You tickle me, Vampire. It's a shame that you are what you are."
A weight settled across my body, making my limbs sag; all of a sudden I felt tired and sad.
"I didn't ask to be like this, you know," I muttered, and in my peripherals I saw him go still. "I already told Sebastian that I live as honestly as possible and I fully intend to prove that I'm not a threat to anybody. All I want is to go back home and return to my normal every day life."
Although deep down a part of me whispered that it would never be fully normal again.
Louise knew that I was a vampire, my apartment was going to be different forever, and the trauma of almost being raped by another vampire, of seeing what they were really like, still hadn't left me.
The fear that I might become like that someday made it ten times worse, too.
"For being what you are," he said slowly, quietly, "I, personally, think you might be okay."
I stared at him.
"You... attacked me, though," I pointed out.
"And I stopped," he said flatly, raising a single eyebrow. "For me, all it took was one look at your eyes to know you're not a predator of any sort. The others are saying you're a threat to us but Sebastian completely disagrees and I think he's right."
"You do?" I asked, startled. "Why?"
He smirked, then, and leaned forward with his eyes half-lidded, swinging himself so close to my face that I flinched and leaned back against the wall. His eyes studied mine from a distance of about an inch, and even as I watched that grin widened into something a little more feral.
"I have a certain knack for reading people," he said in a deep, throaty tone, "body language, facial expressions, I see it all, study it all, right down to the minuscule changes in how a person's eyes shift as they look at you. You're not a predator. You're more like prey."
I swallowed hard, staring at him with huge, unblinking eyes.
I'd underestimated this guy... he was just as intimidating as Sebastian, if not more, but I had to admit it also felt good that he knew I wasn't a bad person.
"So... you figured out I'm not a monster, then?" I wheedled, tensing when his eyes flitted down to my jaw, where the bruises from the vampire's attack were still healing.
"Oh, I've figured out far more than that," he murmured, grinning yet again. "Don't worry, I'll stick up for you if they ever decide to switch guard duty and let me back into the meeting."
"Meeting?"
"To decide what to do with you," he reiterated, finally pulling back; I let out a breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. "So, what's your name, Vampire?"
I was taken aback yet again by his interest in me. I figured it was because I'd gotten too used to Sebastian's behavior and had associated it with him being a werewolf... perhaps on a subconscious level I'd been expecting the same from his fellows.
Birds of a feather and all that.
"Aerin," I said, looking at him warily. "Aerin Vanderhill."
"Unusual name for a man," Leo said in a lazy, calculating drawl. "Well, Aerin, my name is Leonardo Dietrich. As I'm sure you've already guessed, I go by Leo."
I nodded but said nothing in return, because I wasn't sure at all if pleasantries were appropriate.
I'm a literal prisoner right now, I reminded myself. I can't get carried away.
"Like I said before, I think you're all right, but the others aren't so sure," he said, but my resulting grimace must have spoken volumes because he reached out and unexpectedly set a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, though, Sebastian is the one in charge and its ultimately his decision."
My grimace intensified.
"Not sure if that's comforting considering how bad I was treated before I got here," I sourly informed him, rubbing my neck in remembrance. "He's a really scary guy."
"Only with vampires," Leo snorted, rolling his tongue on the last syllable, like a purring cat; I stared at him, since it hit me then and there that his accent was surprisingly thick for someone living in the United States. "Trust me, he's got a permanent case of stick-up-the-ass."
I snorted, unable to help it.
"I may have picked up on that," I told him, and I tapped my neck. "He has a fixation with grabbing me by the neck and pinning me down."
"He's like that with everybody. You'll get used to it. "
"I'll get used to abuse and death threats?"
Leo twitched, staring at me with a complete lack of expression for a second, then shrugged.
"You'd be surprised to know that werewolves are simplistic creatures," he told me. "As long as you don't go out of your way to challenge or defy the Alpha, life is simple and very enjoyable. Do what Bash says. Eventually you'll get used to his prickly behavior... if, that is, things go well."
"Go well?"
"Ah, meaning you're not executed."
My throat constricted and I abruptly looked away from his face, since I felt like I would throw up.
"If they decide to kill me," I said tonelessly, trying to hide how afraid I was, "they'll be no better than the vampires they all seem to hate so damn much."
Silence came from in front of me for the longest time.
It was so quiet that I couldn't even hear Leo breathing.
"They don't know that," he finally said, and I looked at him to see a thoughtful expression on his face, "but as I said, Sebastian seems to want you alive, and his word is the law around here. He's more prejudiced towards vampires than any of us, which makes me believe you'll be fine."
I had no idea how to counter that.
We sat in a contemplative silence for a moment that stretched into several minutes.
"So... what happens now?" I asked when it finally became too much to bear.
Leo planted his hands back against the floor and nodded at the drum.
"Keep playing," he said, smirking. "It'll help pass the time."
I didn't really have the motivation now that I knew my life was being tossed around, but I still picked up the drum and started up another beat. I'm sure he could tell how out of it I was.
After all, he'd said it himself.
He was good at figuring out what made people tick, and ticking I surely was. Hell, at this point, I was more like a bomb than a person, and every second brought me closer to mass destruction.
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Author's Note: SLEEPSONG HAS A NEW TRAILER! Be sure to give your thoughts on it! It took a fuck ton of effort to make.