by Lani Lenore
I’ve done this before, she remembered, thinking of the time in the washroom that she’d cleaned him off. It was so simple, yet it spoke volumes.
The cloth was lowered after she’d finished, and Anne’s weak hands moved to her throat, working against the scarf that had been tied there so tightly. She fought with the knot she couldn’t see, though not very vigorously, until Armand reached up and took her hands away. He took his own turn with the scarf then. Anne watched him silently, hardly feeling the untangling of the knot against her bruised skin, thinking this must have been the gentlest thing he’d done all night.
2
The scarf slid away finally, revealing the line of bruising that had hued to a dark purple across her pale skin. Armand brushed his fingers against it lightly. She did not wince or push him away. His hand slid down her shoulder with an agenda he was hardly aware of. Could she think she still loved him after he’d hurt her so much?
What was that look in her eyes? Was it possible that she didn’t know that he had allowed her to be captured? That he could have stopped it and that it was completely his fault?
His hand moved down her chest, treading partially over a bare portion of ample curvature before he stopped short. There was something on his hand–something grainy and sticky. He moved his gaze from her eyes to look at it, removing his hand from her flesh. His palm and fingers were covered in crystals that glittered in the faint light.
“Sugar,” he heard her say.
He looked over her fully then–how her hair was fixed and curled, how her face was painted with makeup, how her dress was much too tight. And she was sprinkled in sugar. Through all her running and struggling, the woman had gone from looking like an exquisite doll to appearing as some ruined whore.
The sight of her made Armand feel sick at his heart. It made him think of Clara and Augustus’ vile actions toward her. Perhaps the same thing had happened to Anne? Is that why she looked so empty? Surely, hopefully, not. A puppet had already tried to rape her. Wasn’t that enough for one night?
“Did he…?” Armand started, but found himself unable to finish. He didn’t have to though. The woman read his mind.
“No. He told me what he was going to do to me, but I got away.”
No thanks to you, she could have said. He knew she could have; knew she probably should have, but she didn’t. She didn’t look at him this time though. She looked toward his arm, but she really looked at nothing, her expression blank. He wanted to say something–anything–and he opened his mouth but nothing would come out. Not even a simple ‘I’m sorry’.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she said, surprising him.
She finally looked into his eyes. “Nothing happened. I’m fine.”
They stared at each other a moment. She looked at him to keep herself firm. He stared at her because he knew the dam was about to break.
Anne gasped once. She couldn’t hold her breath or her tears any longer. The woman cried in short sobs that she tried to keep quiet but was unable to stifle completely. Where she sat atop him, he felt her begin to quake. Had she cried tonight at all? Even through all that had happened?
You made her think she shouldn’t, his self reminded him.
“I’m sorry,” she choked, putting her hand over her face as if to hide her emotion. “I know I’m not supposed to.”
For the first time in years, Armand felt like a monster. Had he truly been so cruel to her? Yes; he supposed he had been. At the time, it had been for her own good as well as his. Now, it seemed like too much.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he told her. “I’m the one who should, but I’m not even sure of where to start. I’ve done so many terrible things to you…”
“I forgave you,” she said quickly, stopping him.
He sat silently while she dried her tears and pulled herself together. He watched the woman look around herself, examining the box they were in and the lack of light that didn’t allow her to see the room beyond.
“Where are we?”
“Safe for now,” he assured her. “You should rest while you can.”
“I’ve had enough rest,” she insisted. “What are we to do now?”
She was anxious to move on? No; her words were empty. She was too tired still, not ready for anything else yet.
“I told you,” he replied. “We’re going to rest.”
That grey gaze he’d been missing lifted up to him, staring boldly. Challenging him.
“And I told you I’ve had enough.”
He didn’t bother protesting again. She could get as angry as she wanted, but he wasn’t moving from this spot. He wasn’t ready.
Anne glanced toward his hands. There was brief silence before she spoke again.
“You shouldn’t have stopped,” she said.
He didn’t respond, but he had no idea what she meant by that. Stopped? What had he started? It surprised him that after so many years, he could still be so oblivious at times.
Her hand rose to touch the side of his face, stroking his cheek. He felt every movement of that flesh; every shift of her fingers. Her body moved closer. She had that sultry look in her eyes, commanding his lusts and pulling them forward no matter how much he wanted to fight. But he didn’t fight this time. He wanted her closeness in whatever fashion he could get it.
The woman’s arms moved around his neck, touching his hair softly. He felt her breasts press against his wooden chest as she moved her lips closer to his. Armand was helpless to stop it. He embraced it instead.
He pulled her in and pressed his lips to hers, but it was not like it had ever been before. It wasn’t for spite or to inspire hatred. He desired, as well as needed, her kiss. By it, he felt like the man he was once. At the same time, it made him remember fully that he was no longer that man. Sometimes though, suffering was worth having.
Anne kissed him out of pain and desperation–for the desires of her heart and knowing she could not ever fulfill them. She was going to lose him in a way that she could never have him back. She’d known it all along, but it hit hardest now.
Because somehow, she knew that the resolution was coming. This night was almost over.
Armand stopped kissing her suddenly, managing to escape her tongue and put a short distance between their mouths. When he pulled away, she felt like she’d lost him. She tilted her head and moved back in.
“I have to tell you something,” he said before she could have his lips once again.
Her eyes searched for answers while her nose brushed against his.
“I’ve made a decision,” he told her.
His words made her tense, bringing on fear for what he might tell her.
“About what?” she asked hesitantly.
“About what I have to do,” he said. “Losing you put everything into perspective. I can’t repeat my past mistakes.”
He saw that she still didn’t understand what he meant. Armand put his hands on her warm face.
“I’m going to help you, Anne,” he said softly. “To get back to the way you were. Even if it means not killing him tonight. Even though it might mean I’ll lose him again.”
This was not what she had expected him to say at all. The promise touched her. It proved that he truly cared.
“I shouldn’t be so hasty, after all,” he said, a tiny smile of irony emerging. “I have an eternity.”
At his words, she began to cry again, made happy and sad all at once. She felt so terrible for him! Even worse than she did for herself.
“That makes me feel so selfish,” she sobbed.
“No. It’s the right thing for me.”
Anne sighed as a tear dripped down, making the lining around her eyes run in black streaks down her face.
“I don’t know if I can,” she confessed, nuzzling into his hand a bit.
“Can?”
“Go back,” she clarified, looking into his eyes. “How will I ever be able to forget all this? How can I go on normally, knowing that Olivia was right? I
can’t imagine the girl forgetting either. But there’s something else crooked going on here. I can’t go back until I’ve got it all sorted out. If it happens though–if Mrs. Ellington dies and Todd takes Olivia away, I’ll have to leave the house–give up everything I’ve worked for. And how can I leave you, not knowing what’s going to happen and act like you never existed?”
Her concern was touching, but he couldn’t allow it to make him forget the truth of what was going to happen to them both. He loved her, more than any woman he’d ever met, and perhaps in some other life they could have been together. But not this one. Even if she had been willing to stay in this world, he could not resign himself to that. She would grow old and eventually die, and he would be left to go on without her, even more miserable than before. He would help her return to the life that she deserved to live, and he would go off to end his.
What had been her question? How could she forget?
“I’m sorry that I can’t answer that for you,” he said gently, “but you’ll have to find a way.”
3
Anne knew she had to accept that for what it was. Goodbye was inevitable. Best, then, to use the time while it was theirs?
She sank deeply into his kiss once again, no longer noticing that it was wooden. His hands slid down her back. Anne thought of something then, briefly in the back of her mind–a flicker of memory. When she’d been young and living with her aunt, a chore of hers had been to do the sweeping. When no one was looking, her broom became a prince, and they’d danced around the room together. She’d placed it a few brief kisses on the bunch where the straw was bound together as if it were a face, so why had she ever thought it was so odd to have Armand’s living lips? He was a person inside there, after all, and he could feel her enough to press back.
Those thoughts brought on another memory and another concern. Again, she broke away from him.
“What are we going to do about Olivia?” she asked breathlessly.
“We’re going to find out what we can to fix things, and find out what’s going on within the house. If she won’t come with us willingly, I don’t think it’s wise to uproot her from her throne. We’ll have more trouble than we need.”
Anne wasn’t sure how much she liked that idea, but she could think of nothing better. Olivia needed to be at her side, but that was obviously impossible. She drew in a deep breath–
Pain within made her gasp before she could exhale. She gripped her stomach, wincing lightly. Armand’s hand immediately followed hers there.
“Are you alright?”
Anne smiled at him weakly. “It’s the dress. Made for dolls and not for so much breathing.”
He examined her a moment, and then his response came easily and softly.
“Take it off.”
4
At many times in her life, when Olivia was feeling sad or frightened, she would pull all the dolls down from their shelves and gather them on the bed around her. Their closeness made her feel safe, and it was nearly the same thing in the throne room now. Toys that had gathered into the palace were congregated tightly around their leader to claim their own comfort, and the girl hated to admit that she had very little to offer them.
She’d ordered a regiment of soldiers to lay siege on the camps of rodents that had invaded her kingdom, and from within the castle, she could hear the sounds of war. Where was the Lady Sovereign to turn when she was feeling frightened? There was no one there to help her. Her uncle was dead, Anne was God–knows–where, and the one who should have been there had not shown his face in quite a while.
Armand…where are you?
“Lady?”
Olivia looked down at her side to see her lovely, dark–haired ballerina doll staring up at her adoringly. This one was her precious one–her favorite aside from Armand.
“Yes?” the Lady asked graciously, hiding any waver in her voice.
“I just want you to know that I would never leave your side, especially in a time like this,” the ballerina said. “Do consider taking me by your side instead! I’ll do anything to keep you happy, mistress.”
At the offer, Olivia smiled, but she knew that she could not accept. A prince was what she desired, not a doll.
“I believe you,” Olivia said, “but you know that I’ve already chosen. I stand by that decision honorably. Armand is the only one for me.”
The doll’s pretty mouth angled down in a frown, but she was forced to accept this rejection.
“I understand, majesty,” the ballerina said, kissing Olivia’s hand respectfully before continuing to sit quietly.
The Lady sat up a bit straighter then, wondering in the back of her mind if she looked foolish for waiting on someone who might never come. But that wasn’t true. Armand would come. He was on his way now.
He was hers…
5
There was something about being naked that had always appealed to Anne. Perhaps it was the sight and feel of her own warm parts, or perhaps it was being caressed and admired by the one who was with her. Either way, there was nothing quite like it. Even the sex that might have followed normally paled in comparison to the simple freedom and concentration on her own body.
Armand’s simple admiration of her aroused her even more.
His earlier suggestion for her to undress had sent a tingling sensation to a deep part of her–a place she hadn’t felt it in a long while. She’d never imagined how this sort of thing might have worked with one who was not human–perhaps that was a fantasy of Olivia’s–but that way of thinking had existed before she had met Armand. She’d certainly had such thoughts about him, though she’d never believed it would truly happen.
In the moment that this notion had arisen, she’d not questioned it. She’d only complied.
It was pleasant to feel the slight drop of her breasts when she’d pulled the straps of the dress away and slid it down around her hips, gathering it around her where she sat. She took a deep breath then, letting it cleanse her of any stale air that might have been left in her lungs. She stretched out a few kinks in her sore muscles. Then she was able to breathe easier.
“Feel better?” he inquired, his hands patient.
Anne smiled sheepishly back. Her instincts as a desirable woman took over. She saw no insanity in what she was doing, for it wasn’t madness any longer. It was simple reality, and there was no shame in love.
She kissed his lips, and though they were stiff and tasted like sawdust, they moved easily against her own. His tongue was wet and warm; not unpleasant. In that moment, it was the most perfect thing about him–perhaps aside from the glide of his hands as he found the curves of her hips and moved up across her back.
His hair tickled her skin, teasing it. She could feel his heart thumping against his chest as he pulled her in tighter. The metal ridges were cold and hard, but gentle as they held her. She was chilled.
Anne couldn’t deny how pleasurable his touch was. His need alone enthralled her, but there was something about the soft, wetness of his tongue countered by the pinching, hardness of his lips that balanced pain and tenderness to create a perfect euphoria. She knew she likely should have been quiet, but the feelings were overwhelming. She couldn’t stop her gasps.
She understood that she likely wouldn’t be fulfilled by any of these acts, but she hadn’t cared when they’d started and she wouldn’t care after it was done. However it would turn out, she still wanted this. It was all she could have with him.
As if she’d even had those concerns in these moments that she felt so much more like a woman than she ever had with William, she was surprised to feel movement below. A sensation crept along her thigh, testing slowly but unrelenting, and she gasped when he slid two fingers into her.
He let the fingers linger a moment to see if she would protest, but when she only moaned lightly, he continued, pulling out and sliding back again. From some age long ago, he knew precisely what he was doing. Anne tilted her head back and gripped his shoulders in appreciation.
It didn’t take much effort against her pent–up desires. She felt her release.
Anne felt the groping pulsation kneading his fingers down below, felt her legs weakening. She released a single cry and gripped a handful of his hair. All there was left to do then was to complete her brief moment of bliss.
She shared it with him in the only way she was sure she could. She sighed out his name.
When the feeling had faded and weakness took its place, she collapsed on his legs, panting and feeling her heart pump strongly. The method had worked well enough for her, but she was certain that he was still full of tension. In fact, she wasn’t quite sure of what to say to him now. What could she have offered? Perhaps he might have been angry with her for achieving with he could not?
Anne looked back to him, seeing that he was staring down at the glistening liquid on his fingers. What was that expression on his face? Longing? Sadness? Awe?
“You didn’t have to,” she said, still trying to gather her breath.
“Yes,” Armand insisted. He didn’t look away from his fingers, entranced by the fluid he hadn’t seen in ages. “I actually feel much better now.”
6
It was shortly after the ballerina had made her request that Olivia rose up from her throne. All eyes moved to her, but no one tried to stop her as she moved through the midst of the toys at her feet. Sitting there, lost in her thoughts, she’d come to a decision, and it nagged her until she acted on it.
“Is there something that you need, Lady?” asked a guard in red when she’d caught his attention. “Anything we can get for you?”
Behind her, some of the toys whispered to one another, wondering what it was that had brought the Lady down from her throne so abruptly, moving through the palace as if possessed.
“I just need to be alone for a bit,” she said. “To rest. Could you see that no one disturbs me?”
The guard seemed a bit unsure, but what could he do but agree? Following her around the edge of the throne room, he watched her enter into the back chamber that had been fixed to serve as her bedroom. Curtains separated it from the rest of the castle and a large pillow within was her bed. She did feel a bit tired, but that was not her purpose for coming here. She came here to get away.