I was gasping with relief, though I wasn’t sure if I should be. All I knew was that I had almost had pieces carved out of my flesh and now I was alone. Though it didn’t feel particularly safe being shackled and naked from the waist up, I was relieved not to be in any immediate danger that I could tell. I waited maybe a couple of seconds before I started struggling to get out of the shackles with new determination. Of course, after pulling enough, all I felt was an increasing pang of agony through my wrists and the feel of wet blood seeping down my arms. It was clear that I was not going to be getting out of these things myself.
My sense of relief was promptly squandered when the doors to my torture chamber were slammed opened viciously and the demonic girl who had already cut my face stormed into the room. The man followed closely behind her, obviously annoyed by something… probably me. Perhaps he thought I actually did know things and was bringing her in to get me to talk. It was an effective maneuver; I couldn’t tell which one I was terrified of more.
She didn’t even stop to threaten me, but merely twisted me painfully around to look at my back. I gasped in the pain that shot down my wrists and then the pain in my scalp that followed when she yanked my hair to the side.
“It’s a trick, obviously. They must have tattooed it on her,” The girl hissed in disbelief.
“She said it’s a birth mark,” The man responded with frustration.
“She’s a Monet, the only mark they’re born with is on their brain which results in every word they say being lies,” The girl tugged on my hair in order to further hurt me. I cried out and whimpered. “There’s no mystery here, she’s his fucking daughter, flesh and blood. Either you kill her or I will.”
There was a thick silence which was only filled by my pained breath. I prayed and prayed for them to let me go, to not kill me. If ever I was killed, I never wanted it to be because of something my father did. And definitely not by supernatural demons.
“We’ll wait for Darsana,” the male demon finally stated. I held my breath, feeling a twinge of hope at the word ‘wait’. Waiting meant time, and time meant possible escaping. Then I felt the strangest sensation of claws swiping across my back, followed by deep agonizing pain shooting through my body. I only choked on my breath for a moment before I finally swallowed in air and screamed.
I didn’t hear the sudden commotion behind me. I only felt the pulsing pain across my back, met with wet blood dripping down my legs. I lost strength in my legs from the shock, letting my body hang from my bleeding wrists, and sobbed when I could finally stifle the screams in my throat.
“I said we wait, Corentine,” I heard a monstrous roar declare behind me. “Get the Monet girl out of here.”
“She killed my mate!” The girl demon scream fading in the distance, “I will fucking kill her. I will kill all of them!” I cried out when hands gripped my arms and lifted me up, undoing the shackles around my wrists. I felt a wave of dizziness hit me as I was dropped onto the ground roughly.
“Where does he want us to take her?” I heard from above me.
“I don’t know but I don’t want her blood on me unless I’m allowed to kill her,” a voice stated in disgust. I turned my face away, pressing into the ground in hopes that the floor would swallow me. There was a sudden noise of distaste before I felt someone’s hands reach under me swiftly. I whimpered at the aching pain across my body as I was lifted from the ground bridal style. I weakly moved to cover my breasts but doubted I did a good job and opted to press my face into the stranger’s chest with eyes firmly closed.
“It’s just a little blood, boys,” The unfamiliar voice said with a note of humor before carrying me out of the room from Hell and up the stairs. I refused to open my eyes, afraid of more pain and humiliation, as I was whisked away to God knows where. After a moment, the man carrying me opened a door, moving through it before I heard it thud behind us. Then I felt the soft reassurance of silk as he lowered me onto what undoubtedly was a bed.
I opened my eyes quickly, whimpering at the brush of fabric against the wounds of my back before quickly rolling over onto my stomach. Presented with the opportunity, I bunched the sheets in my hands and gathered a nice mound around my upper body so I felt more covered, though covering my back was definitely not going to happen anytime soon. When I gathered courage, I turned my head to look at the man who had brought me here and prayed he hadn’t done so in intent to harm me.
The immediate reaction was relief, being that he didn’t appear to have black eyes and fangs or any other demonic features, though I noted that the demon girl had appeared normal at first as well… This man was eyeballing my back, probably at what had to be some nasty gashes across my birth mark. He was thickly built, muscles obvious through his shirt. His hair was blonde, bright, and had a slight twist that indicated curls would be birthed if it was allowed to grow further. He had a mild 5’oclock shadow that at the same time seemed well kept. His eyes were a blue almost-green color, and they noticed I was staring at him.
“Oh… small, potentially gorgeous, red hair, stunning eyes,” He said as-a-matter-of-factly, “My mate will love you just as soon as she’s over the whole you being a Monet thing.” I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, and I wasn’t sure in what way he meant his ‘mate’ would love me. He suddenly reached to touch my back and I winced in anticipation, but he only brushed against the design untouched by the demon girl’s vicious claws.
“You’re very lucky Jacobi spotted this before he had carved your stunning eyeballs out of that pretty little head of yours,” He stated with amusement, “And you’re lucky he’s one of the few of our kind who has amazing self-control.” If this Jacobi person was who I thought it was, I did not think he had any self-control beyond senseless torture of innocent women and I did not think I was lucky at all at this point in time.
The man barely brushed the skin near one of the wounds of my back, causing me to close my eyes and whimper pathetically. “That will not due,” he said suddenly, “No doubt, you’ll get sick and die. Either by infection or shock. But don’t worry; it’s nothing a bit of medicine can’t fix!” I could feel a cold sweat beginning across my skin, but I still couldn’t find the courage to say anything. I expected this man to attack me any second, to accuse me of horrible things and then hurt me.
When he suddenly moved closer to me, pulling me up from the bed, I began to panic. I pulled the sheet with me, covering my chest as though this would save me from any harm. He quickly pressed me against his chest, maneuvering me in such a way that his hand didn’t affect the area of the wound on my back and that I had no choice but to look up into his face. For a moment, he only looked at me breathing rapidly in panic in his arms, and then he flashed a very calming smile.
“My name’s Xander,” He said brightly, “I might scare you but really it’s for your own good.” Before I could register what he was saying, his pupils’ bled black over his eyes and fangs extended in his mouth. I gasped, moving to struggle, but his grip was iron and unrelenting. Without hesitation, he bit into his own hand, tearing a bit at his flesh to free a sudden rush of blood. And then he pressed that wound against my mouth which had been opened in an attempt to scream.
I struggled against the wet wound, my screams muffled until choked by gagging through the blood. And then I pushed past the wave of nausea in order to swallow what tasted like sour wine tinged with copper. After the initial intake of blood, Xander had to actually pull his hand away from my grip, which I hadn’t known I had in my hand. Though I definitely wasn’t a fan of the taste, I had suddenly felt a wave of numbness, like being injected with a high dose of morphine. It was followed by the most pleasurable feeling of ecstasy crawling across my skin. It wasn’t a feverish type of ecstasy, but more calming.
Xander let me fall back on the bed easily, apparently not surprised by the events occurring. I let the sheets fall away where they may and instead rode what felt like the most soothing sensations across my entire body. I hadn’t noticed Xander taking off his shirt and pulling it over my head, which normally would have brought me a plethora of gratitude. All I knew was that I didn’t feel any more pain or fear or worry. It was the best relief and it sent me right off into a peaceful sleep.
~..~
I was 16 years old when my mom had finally succumbed to her illness. There were hundreds of nights of her choking on sickness, coughing blood, and even now I can sometimes smell the twinge of medicine and urine in the air. She had refused chemotherapy, but I never quite knew her reasoning. I assumed she was the type of person who believed in fate beyond that of medical science. No amount of begging from me would change her mind.
When her health had made a turn for the worse, I feared most of all seeing her pass. It still made me feel ashamed to this day. But something about death struck fear in me. I pretended it didn’t happen, hanging around my mom when she was awake and aware. Then when she began vomiting and coughing, I’d only be able to stand watching for a moment before I ran.
In the end, I wasn’t there for her. The doctors called for me when it looked like she was about to go, and instead of racing to reach her, I hid in a nearby closet for hours. By the time they found me, my mom had long passed, and even then I refused to see her body. It was the biggest regret I ever held. I didn’t say goodbye… and I wasn’t there for her. I was a coward.
~…~
I woke to the brush of fingers across my face. With a quick reminding memory of recent events, I gasped and shot up in the bed I was in, quickly scrambling to back away from whatever could have touched me. When nobody attacked me, I blinked the sleep from my eyes and focused on the face of a woman who frowned at me with narrowed hazelnut eyes.
“I’ve never seen a wimpy Monet,” She stated with a hint of suspicion before turning to look at the figure of what I recognized to be Xander standing at the end of the bed with his arms folded in front of him. “Not even a wimpy girl Monet. How long did they torture her?”
“They barely got a cut in, except for Corentine, but only a few scratches,” Xander winked my way and I folded my knees up to my chest. I noted that I was wearing a shirt now, which was a relief. I also noted that I wasn’t in any pain, though the memory of drinking a demon’s blood was fresh in my mind. Who knew what kind of effect that had on my body? Perhaps I was one of them now… I quickly reached up and touched my teeth to make sure there were no fangs. And then I touched my cheek where the girl, Corentine, had scratched me in the vehicle. It was no longer there.
“So she started out all… timid, then?” The woman sighed, “What’s wrong with her? Is she mute?”
“She’s a babe; a lost lamb in the wilderness,” Xander responded, moving closer to the woman who was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Honestly, Aveline, she’s harmless. You think I would have brought a dangerous Monet to my mate’s bed?”
“I’ve never heard of a harmless Monet,” The woman stated suspiciously, but she seemed to begin to believe whatever it was exactly Xander was trying to convince her of. Though I kept my eyes cast away, I began to glance more and more at her being that she wasn’t trying to torture or kill me just yet. From my quick assessments, she was obviously very gorgeous. She had short sable hair in a pixie cut that fit her intense but pleasant facial features well. I couldn’t tell based on her sitting but I assumed she’d be a rather tall individual, no doubt with natural grace, and had a model-like figure without appearing to be stick thin. And with the low neck shirt I could see she had been blessed with great breasts. It made me want to roll my eyes.
“Very well, then, what’s she here for? Is she a gift? She does have a very appealing look to her, I wouldn’t mind having some fun with a…,” The woman winked at Xander with a sly smile, “harmless Monet. Sounds similar to wrestling with a leopard, though. It should make for good stories.”
Xander slipped onto the bed next to her and I moved away a tiny bit more, not provided with much room now that I was pressed against the headboard. I did not want to have ‘fun’ with these people. I’d had quite too much fun as it is. I would have rather gone home, actually.
“Hmmm, well we weren’t told we couldn’t have some fun with her, but you know I don’t like unwilling lovers,” Xander said, moving his finger side to side in a mild-scolding manner. Then he looked to me with a very charming smile on his face. “What do you say, Ms. Monet? Would you like to explore some forms of pleasure with us?”
“Yessss, would you? I promise you’ll enjoy it and… if you’re nervous, we’ll take it real slow,” The woman moved her hand up my bare leg to my knee and I jerked away in shock. My heart began racing in my chest at the proposition and a deep red flame rose to my cheeks in embarrassment.
“N-no, thank you,” I managed to choke out in a small voice. This appeared to please them to no end because they both immediately brightened up; looking at each other with expressions I couldn’t quite understand but had to be similar to satisfaction. It was strange being that I had just rejected them.
“It speaks,” Xander exclaimed, “Wonderful.”
“Good. It makes introductions so much easier when both sides participate,” the woman smirked pleasantly. I was slightly glad she no longer seemed suspicious of me; though I’m sure the feeling was still there inside her somewhere hiding. These people were with the ones who had kidnapped and partially tortured me, they weren’t friend-material. “My name is Aveline and this is my mate, who I hear you already met, Xander. What’s your name?” Xander waved slightly at the introduction.
I hesitated, not trusting these two at all. But then again they personally had done nothing to me. And maybe if I proved to them I was innocent, they’d help me go back home. Or if anything they could explain to me what exactly was going on and why exactly I was here. I mean, I understood it had to do with my birth father and that apparently the Monet side of my family line was immensely disliked here, but I still didn’t understand what exactly that had to do with me. Unless… I was a means to a pointless stab of revenge against the Monet family, which to me made no sense. I mean, you could kill my father and I wouldn’t exactly feel anything for it because well… I didn’t know him, so why would he feel anything if I died? So after a moment of deliberation I decided it would probably be better to convert some people from my enemy to my partial friends at the least. Perhaps if I had a trial, it would help me or something.
My courage level reached its peak and I finally whispered, “Elysia…”